Em. usually rode a little, silver-gray horse, which was her favorite because it united the rare qualities of swiftness, gentleness, and spirit, and which she named Pearl. She liked, on a fine summer afternoon, to ride beside the carriage in going through the forest or along the river banks and to listen or reply to the happy chatter of the delighted children; but she liked even more than that to mount her little horse and go for a solitary ride on the mountain, to explore narrow, hidden, and forgotten paths, to startle the deer from its leafy couch, or the eagle, screaming, from its dizzy perch; to find new Edens of light and beauty, and even new Hades of gloom and grandeur. Em. enjoyed this life in the Wilderness more than any other member of the family did, though they were all happier than they had ever been before. There was, indeed, but one cloud on the sunshine of their lives—they missed the pleasure of attending divine service on Sundays. There was no church within thirty miles of the manor-house. Certainly, by getting up at four o’clock on Sunday mornings and harnessing two of the strongest draught horses to the largest carry-all, John might have taken his family to Greyrock Chapel in time for the morning service, at eleven o’clock, but that he had conscientious scruples on the subject. He was a simple and literal interpreter of the commandment, and he held that beasts of burden had as much right to their Sabbath rest as mankind, and that to make them work by dragging Christians to church was the inconsistency of worshiping the Lord by disobeying him, and keeping the Sabbath holy by breaking it. We think John was level-headed on that subject, as well as on some others. Em. begged him to go to the island and hear the blind preacher. But John was strongly attached to the church in which he had been brought up, and the forms with which he had been familiar from childhood. Besides, he did not like worshiping in the open air—“the temple not made with hands.” So John assembled his household in his own parlor every Sabbath day and read the services. And he made himself contented until communion Sunday drew near. Then, on the Saturday immediately preceding it, he said: “Susan, my dear, we are famishing for the bread of life. We must go to church to-morrow, whether or no. Not that I intend to travel on that day! No; but I tell you what we’ll do, my dear. We’ll go this afternoon, and we’ll take vittals and horse feed enough to last us until Monday morning, and we’ll camp out, like we did when we were on our journey. It’s lovely weather for out-doors, Susan. What do you think of it yourself?” “I think that will be very enjoyable, John.” “The young uns would like it.” “’Mazingly, John.” “Very well; you get the eating and sleeping conveniences all ready and I’ll harness up the old wagon we traveled in, and I reckon we’ll leave here about five o’clock and we’ll get to Greyrock by eleven to-night.”