confident that the recital of such experiences would strengthen every one for greater works of humanity and love." There was a dead silence for several minutes, and the leader finally relieved the uncomfortable sensation of the members by asking: "Has any one any other remarks to offer?" No one responded. "The next lesson, which we will hardly have time to begin to-day, will be upon the third beatitude," said Deacon Bates. "The class may consider itself dismissed, I suppose." "Now, _wasn't_ that just like Alleman?" asked Squire Woodhouse of Captain Maile. "We were having the most heavenly time I ever did know inside of a church, and he utterly ruined it." "The rest of you didn't act a bit as if you'd ruined yourselves, did you?" asked the Captain, in reply. "Why, how?" asked the Squire. "Eyes have they, but they see not," answered the Captain, starting abruptly for his carriage. CHAPTER V. FAMILIAR SOUNDS. The members of the club spent a whole week in trying to recover from the bad effects of Mr. Alleman's peculiar and untimely harangue, and even then they did not succeed. "We were getting into such an unusual, such a heavenly state of mind," explained Mr. Hopper, "and the Lord knows that heavenly states of mind are scarce enough anywhere under the best of circumstances. We were forgetting all the tricks, the games that had been come upon us in the discussion of other points on which the brethren had made up their minds, and picked out their trees to hide behind; and we were having just the happy, quiet, sympathetic time which a man knows how to appreciate when he's knocked about the world for a little while, when all of a sudden Alleman must come in, and spring some of his peculiar notions upon us. I don't see why the Lord lets such men torment the world about religious affairs. They're good enough in every other way." Other members of the class wondered also; and when, on the following Sunday, Deacon Bates asked if any one else had any remarks to make on the late lesson, nobody answered. So the leader read: "'Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.' Judge Cottaway"--the Deacon had skillfully inveigled the Judge into a front seat before the discussion began, so as to have a strong and respectable opening--"we would be glad to learn your views of this passage." "I take it to mean," answered the Judge, "that meekness is a virtue so highly esteemed by the Almighty, that he offers, as an incentive to its cultivation, the most highly valued of earthly inducements. Meekness seems to be the antithesis, the exact opposite of strife, and so much of strife is so causeless and harmful, yet so attractive to the ordinary mind, that those who indulge in it are by this passage warned by implication. Meekness is not a virtue of such greatness as poverty of spirit, as may be inferred from the smaller reward promised to those who practice it, and----"