"'The next morning his honest old parish farmer Ebel was at the door with a little farm waggon, and asked him where they were to go? and whether it was to be a long or a short journey? You must know the man was under obligation to take several long journeys for his pastor, lasting some days, and several short expeditions of a day only each. "It shall be a short one for to-day," the pastor answered. "I think with God's help to ride to Zelle." So after Ebel had attended morning worship in the parsonage, for he would not willingly have missed that, Breyhan mounted into the waggon, set himself down upon a spread of straw, took his hat off and said reverently--"In God's name!"--and then they went forward, step by step, as the manner was then; for in those days people were not in such a hurry as they are now. Before the city they stopped, and with prayer and thanksgiving ate the breakfast they had brought along with them. Then Breyhan took his vestments out of a clean linen cloth and put them on, and one could see by his lips that he was speaking to himself or praying. Good Ebel felt himself growing quite devotional at the sight, and he drove into the city with twice the spirit he had had before, because now everybody might see that he had a pastor in his waggon.'" Meredith paused a moment to glance up at the river and hills opposite, and Maggie broke forth, "The people in that country seem to be very unlike the people in this country?" "You mean, nobody here would care so much about carrying a minister in his waggon," said Meredith laughing. "Well--he wouldn't, would he?" "I am afraid not. More's the pity." "Why, Ditto?" said his sister. "What are ministers so much more than other people?" "They are the King's ambassadors," said Mr. Murray, taking the answer upon himself. "And you know, Miss Flora, the ambassador of a king is always treated as something more than other people." Flora looked at him. "Mr. Murray," she said, "ministers do not seem like that?" "When they are the true thing, they do." "But then besides," Maggie went on,--"how could anybody, how could that good man care so much about a _bell_? What difference did it make whether the bell was big or little?" "Superstition"--said Flora. "No, not exactly," responded Mr. Murray. "That other man cared so much about his silver service, and this one about his bell--they were both alike, but I don't understand it," said Maggie. "How would you like your father to have his table set with pewter instead of silver?" "O Uncle Eden! but that--" "Or to drive a lame horse in his carriage?" "But, Uncle Eden--" "Or to wear a fustian coat?" "But that's different, Uncle Eden." "Yes, it is different. This concerns our own things; those matters of the vessels and the bell concerned God's things." "Then you approve of building very costly churches, sir?" asked Meredith, whose head was running on churches lately. "No, I do not." "How then, Mr. Murray?" said Flora curiously.