"Not more than usual, sir. My agitation proceeded from animal excitement." "I am fearful it is the same in a majority of instances, Mr. Manly;" said Arthur, respectfully. "You my perceive your error one day, my son; let me entreat you to consider this matter as binding up your eternal welfare; and caution you not to lay a feather in the way of those who may be seeking their salvation." Arthur bowed silently; and the minister passed on. Dr. Carleton retired early that evening with a headache. Mrs. Dana was getting the children to sleep; the young people had the parlor to themselves. Charley was at the piano, fingering over sacred airs; psalm tunes, sung by the Covenanters, in their craggy temples, or murmuring to an impromptu accompaniment, a chant or doxology. All at once he struck the chords boldly, and added the full powers of the instrument to his voice, in the fine old melody of Brattle Street. Lynn ceased his walk through the room, and united his rich bass at the second line; Arthur, a tenor; Carry and Ida were happy to be permitted to listen-- "While Thee I seek, protecting Power, Be my vain wishes stilled; And may this consecrated hour With better hopes be filled. Thy love the power of thought bestowed, To thee my thoughts would soar; Thy mercy o'er my life has poured, That mercy I adore. In each event of life how clear Thy ruling hand I see! Each mercy to my soul most dear. Because conferred by Thee. In every joy that crowns my days, In every pain I bear, My heart shall find delight in praise, Or seek relief in prayer. When gladness wings my favored hour, Thy love my thoughts shall fill; Resigned--when storms of sorrow lower, My soul shall meet Thy will. My lifted eye, without a tear, The gathering storm shall see; My steadfast heart shall know no fear, That heart will rest on Thee!" "There!" said Charley, "there is more religion in that hymn than in all the fustian we have heard to-day; sermons, prayers and exhortations. Humbug in worldly concerns is despicable; in the church, it is unbearable." "Consider, Charley, that hundred of pious people believe in the practices you condemn. Some of the best Christians I know were converted at these noisy revivals," said Carry. "It would be miraculous if there were not a grain or two of wheat in this pile of chaff. I never attend one that I am not the worse for it. It is a regular annealing furnace; when the heat subsides you can neither soften or bend the heart again--the iron is steel. What does Miss Ida say?" "That sin is no more hateful, or religion more alluring, for this Sabbath's lessons; still, I acquiesce in Carry's belief, that although mistaken in their zeal, these seeming fanatics are sincere."