"Do you live in the city?" There was a frown of stern inquiry on the broad forehead; but the head was bending farther forward. "No," said Jack, "I live in Crofield." "Where's that?" "Away up on the Cocahutchie River. I came here early this morning." "What's your name?" "John Ogden." "Come with me, John Ogden. You may have a seat in my pew. Come." Into the church and up the middle aisle Jack followed his leader, with a sense of awe almost stifling him; then, too, he felt drowned in the thunderous flood of music from the organ. He saw the man stop, open a pew-door, step back, smile and bow, and then wait until the boy from Crofield had passed in and taken his seat. "He's a gentleman," thought Jack, hardly aware that he himself had bowed low as he went in, and that a smile of grim approval had followed him. In the pew behind them sat another man, as haughty looking, but just now wearing the same kind of smile as he leaned forward and asked in an audible whisper: "General, who's your friend?" "Mr. John Ogden, of Crofield, away up on the Cookyhutchie River. I netted him at the door," was the reply, in the same tone. "Good catch?" asked the other. "Just as good as I was, Judge, forty years ago. I'll tell you how that was some day." "Decidedly raw material, I should say." "Well, so was I. I was no more knowing than he is. I remember what it is to be far away from home." The hoarse, subdued whispers ceased; the two gentle men looked grim and severe again. Then there was a grand burst of music from the organ, the vast congregation stood up, and Jack rose with them. He felt solemn enough, there was no doubt of that; but what he said to himself unconsciously took this shape: "Jingo! If this isn't the greatest going to church _I_ ever did! Hear that voice! The organ too--what music! Don't I wish Molly was here! I wish all the family were here." The service went on and Jack listened attentively, in spite of a strong tendency in his eyes to wander among the pillars to the galleries, up into the lofty vault above him, or around among the pews full of people. He knew it was a good sermon and that the music was good, singing and all--especially when the congregation joined in "Old Hundred" and another old hymn that he knew. Still he had an increasing sense of being a very small fellow in a very large place. When he raised his head, after the benediction, he saw the owner of the pew turn toward him, bow low, and hold out his hand. Jack shook hands, of course. "Good-morning, Mr. Ogden," said the gentleman gravely, with almost a frown on his face, but very politely, and then he turned and walked out of the pew. Jack also bowed as he shook hands, and said, "Good-morning. Thank you, sir. I hope you enjoyed the sermon." "General," said the gentleman in the pew behind them, "pretty good for raw material. Keep an eye on him." "No, I won't," said the general. "I've spoiled four or five in that very way."