As we walked the short half mile between the cottage and the church, the stars shone in beauty amid the still rosy tints of the west—the night-hawk stooped towards us, as he wheeled in his airy circles—the whip-poor-will in the adjoining meadows sounded his mournful note, and the crickets, with the chirping frogs in the neighbouring ponds, sustained a ceaseless chorus. Arrived at the church-yard, we picked our way among the old brown tomb-stones, their quaint devices, contrasted here and there with others of more modern pretensions in white marble, and entering the church, took our seats in silence. We were early; but as the church gradually filled, it was interesting to watch group after group, as it noiselessly measured the aisles, and sunk quietly upon the cushioned seats. Now and then a pair of bright eyes would glance curiously around from beneath a gay bonnet, and a stray tress be thrown hastily aside; but alas! those clad in the habiliments of wo, too, too often moved, phantom-like, to their places; the lights, as they threw a momentary glare on their pale and care-worn faces, making more dark the badges which affection has assumed as a tame index of inward grief. The slow toll of the bell ceased—the silence became more deep;—an occasional cough—the rustling of a dress—the turn of a leaf alone breaking the perfect stillness. The low tones of the organ rose gently and sweetly, and the voluntary floated softly and mist-like over the assembly; now rising, and falling, and undulating, with like dreamy harmony, as if the Æolian harp were answering, with the passing airs playing among its strings, the ocean gently laving her pebbly shores; then gradually rising and increasing in depth, it grandly and solemnly ascended upwards, till thrown back, reverberated from the walls of the circular dome above us, it rolled away in deep and distant thunders. All became again silent. The venerable form of a man of four-score years, his hair bleached with the sorrows of eighty winters, rose slowly in the pulpit, and as, with eyes closed, yet lifted to Heaven, he feebly supported himself with outstretched arms upon its cushion, we heard almost in a whisper, “Let us pray, my brethren,” fall tremulously from his lips. Nought, but the perfect stillness, enabled us at first to hear the sentences pronounced with evident and painful effort; but as he advanced in prayer, that almost whisper, became firm and distinct, and his pallid cheek lighted up with a hectic flush, as he waxed eloquent in the presence of his Maker.