of them are in any way precious, save to such ignorant and misguided persons as are deceived by external shows. The Soul is all! Keep but that 'breath of God' within you, and the world becomes merely one step of the ladder on which you may easily mount through everlasting love upon love, joy upon joy, to the utmost height of Heaven!" He ceased. For a moment there was a profound stillness. And then, with the usual formula--"Now to God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost be praise, honour and glory for ever and ever"--the congregation stood up. Lady Beaulyon shook her silken skirts delicately. Mrs. Bludlip Oourtenay put her hand to her back hair coil and made sure that it was safe. And there was a general stir and movement, which instantly subsided again, as the people knelt to receive the parting benediction. Maryllia's eyes were riveted on Walden as he stretched out his hands;--she was conscious of a certain vague awe and reverence for this man with whom she had so casually walked and talked, only as it seemed the other day;--he appeared, as it were, removed from her by an immeasurable distance,- -his spirit and hers had gone wide apart,--his was throned upon a height of noble ideals,--hers was low, low down in a little valley of worldly nothings,--and oh, how small and insignificant she felt! Cicely's hand caught hers and gave it an affectionate little pressure, as they bowed their heads together under the solemnly pronounced blessing. "The peace of God which passeth all understanding, keep your hearts and minds in the knowledge and love of God, and of His Son Jesus Christ our Lord,"--here Walden turned ever so slightly towards the place where Maryllia knelt; "and the blessing of God Almighty, the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, be amongst you and remain with you always!" "A---men!" With this last response from the choir, the congregation began to disperse, and Walden, glancing over the little moving crowd, saw the eager bustle and pressure of all its units to look at 'the ladies from the Manor' and take stock of their wonderful costumes. The grip of 'the world' was on them, and the only worshipper remaining quietly in his place, with hands clasped across his stick, and eyes closed, was Josey Letherbarrow. The old man seemed to be praying inwardly--his face was rapt and serene. Walden looked down upon him very tenderly. A verse of Browning's ran through his mind:-- "Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be, The last of life for which the first was made. Our times are in His hand, Who saith: 'A whole I planned,' Youth shows but half; trust God; see all, nor be afraid!" And musing on this, he descended slowly from the pulpit and retired. XIX