"You were unjust," I charged back on Conscience; "this morning proves
that I am not an ingrained newsmonger. There is still man enough left
within me to revive at Nature's touch;" and I exultantly quickened my
steps, until I had left the village miles away.

Before the morning was half gone I learned how much of my old vigor
had ebbed, for I was growing weary early in the day. Therefore I
paused before a small gray building, old and weather-stained, that
seemed neither a barn, nor a dwelling, nor a school-house. A man was
in the act of unlocking the door, and his garb suggested that it might
be a Friends' meeting-house. Yielding to an idle curiosity I mounted a
stone wall at a point where I was shaded and partially screened by a
tree, and watched and waited, beguiling the time with a branch of
sweetbriar that hung over my resting-place.

Soon strong open wagons and rockaways began to appear drawn by sleek,
plump horses that often, seemingly, were gayer than their drivers.
Still there was nothing sour in the aspect or austere in the garb of
the people. Their quiet appearance took my fancy amazingly, and the
peach-like bloom on the cheeks of even well-advanced matrons suggested
a serene and quiet life.

"These are the people of all others with whom I would like to worship
to-day," I thought; "and I hope that that rotund old lady, whose face
beams under the shadow of her deep bonnet like a harvest moon through
a fleecy cloud, will feel moved to speak." I plucked a few buds from
the sweet-briar bush, fastened them in my button-hole, and promptly
followed the old lady into the meeting-house. Having found a vacant
pew I sat down, and looked around with serene content. But I soon
observed that something was amiss, for the men folk looked at each