wind up, repeats the hour in deep reverberating tones; for Time has
survived his former progeny, and, with the iron tongue that man gave
him, is now speaking to his two grandchildren. They listen, but
understand him not. Nature would measure time by the succession of
thoughts and acts which constitute real life, and not by hours of
emptiness. They pass up the church-aisle, and raise their eyes to
the ceiling. Had our Adam and Eve become mortal in some European
city, and strayed into the vastness and sublimity of an old
cathedral, they might have recognized the purpose for which the
deep-souled founders reared it. Like the dim awfulness of an ancient
forest, its very atmosphere would have incited them to prayer.
Within the snug walls of a metropolitan church there can be no such
influence.

Yet some odor of religion is still lingering here, the bequest of
pious souls, who had grace to enjoy a foretaste of immortal life.
Perchance they breathe a prophecy of a better world to their
successors, who have become obnoxious to all their own cares and
calamities in the present one.

"Eve, something impels me to look upward," says Adam; "but it
troubles me to see this roof between us and the sky. Let us go
forth, and perhaps we shall discern a Great Face looking down upon
us."

"Yes; a Great Face, with a beam of love brightening over it, like
sunshine," responds Eve. "Surely we have seen such a countenance
somewhere."

They go out of the church, and kneeling at its threshold give way to