BOB DINGLEY. There was a great gathering of abolitionists in the fallen Babylon, and William Lloyd Garrison came to see how abolition prospered, and Colonel Charles Anderson, brother of Major Anderson, arm in arm with Dr. Theodore Tilton, editor of the _New York Independent_. Two ministers were recorded as being present. Dr. Henry Ward Beecher and Dr. R. S. Storrs, Jr., and many others were in the company. They said brave things over Sumter and raised the flag in triumph. In those days, too, St. Michael’s saw strange things done within her holy walls. One morning at eight o’clock John Beesley, the sexton, who loved the church as the colonel loved a face of the long ago, came through the north door and found a gathering of men, women and children doing things the like of which had never been done before in those aisles. The old wrought iron hinges that were brought from England in the eighteenth century, were being knocked off the doors of the pews, and the handsome carved work of the pews themselves broken off as souvenirs. Upon the breast of the high and holy pulpit, where men had preached in the days of the Lord Proprietors of the colonies, there was an ancient I. H. N. monogram done in choice inlays of rare woods. The sexton saw with horror that it had been knocked out of its place by someone who had ascended the pulpit of God to do it. These men and women carried away their plunder. Nor would it be permissible, save to one who would make his story whole, to leap in a sentence the two years of horror and add that the I. H. N. panel was returned to the rector of St. Michael’s some years afterwards by a clergyman whose name is not to be told, with the remarkable statement that he returned the monogram, as there was no place in his church for it. There were two men who walked in sadness through the deserted city and came at nightfall to the old graveyard of St. Michael’s and entered. It was the hour when the worshippers gathered, a little family band in their home, for the weekly prayer meetings, and the shadows would fall around the old church and rest upon the graves of the departed. Then, while they lingered there with their God and their dead, sometimes the spirits of their fathers would come and join in the service and sprinkle incense upon the fire of their hearts; and the sunbeams would linger a little longer to bear the messages with them before they sped away to their homes beyond the mountains. Thus at the gloaming, when lovers used to meet, would the bridegroom of the Heavens come to prepare the church as a bride adorned for her husband.