His arrival in the town, which I shall call Grantbury, late on Saturday evening, had given the family little opportunity for forming an opinion of the new pastor; that he was tall and vigorous in frame, with a countenance sad rather than smiling, eyes looking far away, a sweet, musical voice with a sad note running through it, was all that they knew of him until they took their seats in church directly in front of the pulpit. The sermon was on Christ's invitation to the weary and heavy laden to come to him for rest. In the most graphic language he depicted the condition of these poor, sad, weary sufferers, bearing their heavy burden of sin and sorrow, longing to be rid of it, but knowing not how to throw it off, groaning in secret places, with an abiding dread of what the future might bring to them. He brought tears to many eyes unused to weep, by the vividness with which he portrayed the soul in darkness, but longing fox the light, empty, void of faith in God or man, shut up in a prison of gloomy thought and forebodings, every day verging toward the frightful chasm of despair. Listening to the preacher's voice trembling with pathos, no one could doubt that he well understood by personal experience the condition of those to whom our blessed Lord extended this gracious invitation. Every eye was fixed on his, every heart followed him; but when, turning from the weary and heavy laden, he pointed to the One who could deliver them from all their wretchedness, the note of sadness still lingered. Instead of the triumphant ring of victory from the freed soul, the tone of peace and rest from those delivered from their heavy load, there was an unexplained want of harmony between the manner and voice of the speaker and the subject of which he was treating. A general restlessness among the audience proved their disappointment. The sermon closed with a passionate appeal to all present to accept Christ's offer of pardon, peace, and rest. The people rose to receive the benediction, half wondering at the sadness which oppressed them. Under other circumstances they would have crowded around the new pastor, offering their hands in token of their welcome. They had been prepared to receive him with enthusiasm. The weeks of suspense during which they were waiting his reply to their call had deepened their anxiety to obtain the services of one so highly recommended, but a weight had fallen on their spirits, and they silently left the church, a few casting glances back to the pulpit, where sat a figure prone and abject, the face buried in the hands. So it happened that only the Committee who had heard him in the city waited to speak to him, and at length accompanied him, almost in silence, to the house of Mr. Asbury, where he was to remain until after his ordination. CHAPTER II. THE NEW PASTOR.