art weighed in the balances, and art found wanting.” Dr. Coyt, in the progress of his discourse, drew a word-picture, upon which his audience gazed in profound, breathless silence. No one looked upon this picture more intently than Ernest. He saw himself alone with his Creator and the balances which were to determine his everlasting destiny. Never before had Ernest’s relations to time and eternity appeared in so vivid a light. The next morning after this, as the sun kissed the glowing horizon, darkness and doubt were dispelled from the soul of Ernest by the enlightening beams of the Sun of Righteousness. He had found that “peace which passeth all understanding,” and he was strangely happy. That day, without saying a word to any one upon the subject, he went forward to indicate his purpose of joining the church. “Which church do you desire to join?” asked Dr. Coyt. “I have not yet determined,” replied Ernest. “I only wish now to let it be known that I have come out upon the Lord’s side. I intend to investigate the doctrines of the different denominations, and I shall join that one I like best.” “That is right,” replied the Doctor. “Take time for reflection, so that you will have no trouble in the future. Select that church in which you think you can be the happiest.” Those who feel any interest in this story will, of course, desire to know what effect the meeting had upon Clara. Ernest had been so absorbed in his own spiritual troubles that he had had no conversation with her since the hour when he had become interested upon the subject of his personal salvation. But that evening, after he had signified his intention of attaching himself to the church, he paid her a visit. She was not present at the morning service, and knew nothing of the step he had taken. After the exchange of ordinary civilities, she said with a significant flippancy which was chilling to Ernest’s heart: “How have you enjoyed the show?” “Show!” exclaimed Ernest, bestowing upon her a solemn look of inquiry. “Yes,” said Clara, not seeming to notice his serious air. “It is as good as any show. Wasn’t it funny to have them all praying for you?” “I do not see where there was any fun,” said Ernest with an expression of disappointment upon his face, “and I am truly sorry to hear you talk so lightly about such solemn things. They are too sacred to admit of sport.” “So, they have got you, too, have they?” asked Clara, breaking into a merry laugh. “Well, I confess I am astonished.” “Why should you be? I cannot see that it is a matter of such profound amazement for a man to join the church.” “Have you really joined the church?” “I have, or at least gave notice this morning that I would do so, and I earnestly wish, my dear Clara, that you would make up your mind to the same thing. That is needed to complete our happiness.” She made no reply, but laughed in a tone which it would have required no expert physiognomist to pronounce one of derision.