[Illustration: "_Mr. Pomper, thinkin' he would see better, got up on the bench, and jest as he shouted out 'How firm a foundation,' the bench broke and down he come._" (_See page 168_)] As I looked round me, I liked the place more and more. What need wuz there of upholstery and carpets? Brussels never turned out such a carpet as old Mom Nater had spread all round that Temple of hern. Old Gobelin never wove such tapestry. No Empress of the wonder-laden East ever had hung in her boodore such a marvelous green texture as drooped down in emerald canopies above us. No golden lamp ever gin such a light as sifted down over the matchless green overhead, to light that solemn sanctuary. No organ ever gin out such sweet sound as the birds warbled anon or oftener. No jeweled ornaments ever sparkled on a altar like the emerald and gold winged butterflies flutterin' round that sacred hant, amongst the wild flowers that blossomed even up to the door. And it seemed as if the soul could soar up easier somehow when you could look right into the blue mystery of the sky, the trackless path that souls mount up on in prayer and praise. Somehow plaster and mortar seem more confinin'. Though I d'no as it really makes any difference. Heaven is over all, and the soul's wings can pierce the heaviest material, bein' made in jest that strong and delicate way, but yet it seemed more free and soarin' somehow, and as if the path heavenward wuz clearer. The breezes kind of hung off and didn't come in. Josiah said they wuz afraid to land on Thousand Island Park for fear of bein' fined for travelin' on Sunday, but it wuzn't so, they didn't come because it wuz so sultry and kinder muggy. I'd hearn that the man who wuz goin' to preach wuz a dretful smart man, a Evangelist and Temperance Lecturer. A man so gifted and good that folks would go milds and milds to hear him, he seemed to hold the secret of inspirin' men and wimmen, and rousin' 'em out of their cold icy states, and drawin' 'em right along towards the mounts he habitually stood on. He'd done sights of good, sights on it. And anon I see a stir round the preacher's stand that made me know the speaker of the day, the great Revivalist and Temperance worker had come. And most immegiately a tall figger passed through the crowd that made way for him reverentially. There wuz a smile and a good look on his face for all the bretheren round him, some like a benediction, only less formal. As he come out on the stand and stood before us I could see that there wuz a light shinin' on his face as if ketched from some heavenly and divine power. His eyes wuz soft and deep lookin', as if he knew jest how mean and weak humanity wuz, and wuz sorry for folks, and would like to tell 'em the secret he had found out, how to overcome the world, the flesh, and the devil, specially the devil.