Before she could speak again, De Forrest was by her side and said, "Let me wheel the lounge up to the fire, and I will read anything you wish this morning." "O, no; I'm going to church." "Miss Lottie, I beg of you do not go. You are not able." "Yes, I am; the air will do me good. It's the Sunday before Christmas, Julian, and we both ought to be at church." "O, certainly, I'll go if you wish it." "I hope your sermon will do me good, Mr. Hemstead. I'm wofully blue," she said, as she left the room to prepare for church. "I think it will," he replied; "for I have prepared it with a great deal of care." The building was a small but pretty Gothic structure, and its sacred quiet did seem to Lottie somewhat like a refuge. With an interest such as she had never felt in the elegant city temple, she waited for the service to begin, honestly hoping that there might be something that would comfort and reassure. But Hemstead went through the preliminary services with but indifferent grace and effect. He was embarrassed and awkward, as is usually the case with those who have seldom faced an audience, and who are naturally very diffident. But as he entered upon his sermon his self-consciousness began to pass away, and he spoke with increasing power and effect. He took as his text words from the eleventh chapter of St. John, wherein Jesus declares to his disciples, in regard to the death of Lazarus, "I am glad, for your sakes, that I was not there, to the intent ye may believe." The importance of faith--believing--as the source of Christian life, and the ground of man's acceptance with God, was his subject, from which he wandered somewhat,--a course often observed in the ministerial tyro. He presented his views strongly, however; but they were partial and unripe, giving but one side of the truth, and therefore calculated to do injury rather than good. He did not--he could not--over-estimate the importance of faith, but he unwittingly misrepresented God, in his efforts to inspire this faith, and the Christian life resulting; and he under-valued our earthly state and its interests. He sketched in strong outlines the experience of the little family at Bethany, portraying with vivid realism the suffering of the man whom Jesus loved; the anxiety of the sisters when Lazarus became ill; this anxiety passing into fear, dread, sickening certainty, and despair; the anguish of bereavement, the loneliness and heart-breaking sorrow of four days; and that most agonized wrench of the heart when the beloved form is left alone to corrupt in the dark and silent sepulchre.