It was now past the middle of September, and the farmers of Summerfield had finished their fall seeding; most of them had spread their flax; some, cut their corn, gathered their pumpkins, and dug their potatoes: and all were enjoying a September of the soul.

Fabens was enjoying it out on his accustomed seat, beneath a favorite shade-tree, in the green mown meadow before his home; and indulging one of those golden reveries that rise in the autumn time. The June-like lustre of the glowing sky; the beauty of the fields now blooming in second verdure, like aged souls with new hopes and loves in the light of Christianity; the affluence of orchards, dropping the burden, diffusing the fragrance of their mellow fruit; the opulence of woodlands, exhibiting signs of the first frost, yet still withholding the wealth of their bright foliage; the pride of his gallant horses, liberated from the plough, and galloping here and there, on sports of majesty in the upland pasture; the appearance of fine cattle grazing on the distant mead; the sight of yellow stubble-fields, sleeping in remoter view; the neatness and abundance of his farm-yard, proclaimed by the lordly cock in a rousing and resonant crow; the odor of hay and grain from his barn near by; the quiet and cosy comfort of his home; the presence of Julia and Fanny, the one reading David from that noble old ode called the Sixty-fifth Psalm, and the other at his side, embracing his neck in a clasp of leaning affection: those pleasant sights that regaled his gaze, and those ardent emotions of gratitude that thrilled him through and through in the sweet contemplation, directed his thoughts to the God who gave them, and he thanked him for his bounty; attained still more lofty conceptions of his love; and, as Julia concluded the psalm, repeated the words, "Praise waiteth for Thee, O God! Thou crownest the year with thy goodness, and thy paths drop fatness. They drop upon the pastures of the wilderness, and the little hills rejoice on every side. Praise waiteth for Thee!"

As he concluded the pious apostrophe, a stranger, till then unobserved, stepped before him, and inquired if it was Squire Fabens of Summerfield whom he had the honor to address. Being answered in the affirmative, the stranger continued—"I know one Daniel Fabens on the Hudson, at whose house I have often tarried, and aware that I was about to visit the Lake Country, he informed me of you, sir, and insisted on my giving you a call."

"Daniel Fabens?—Daniel Fabens;—Let me see. O, it must be my Uncle Abraham's son; he had a Daniel; the only one of the name I know of. It must be he."

"I think he called you Uncle, sir."

"No, cousin. Our fathers were brothers. I am often called Uncle by cousins and neighbors. But it's of no consequence, sir. You are just as welcome. I was only casting in my mind what Fabens it could be. I am glad to see a friend from the Hudson, sir; and what may I call your name?"

"My name is Lovelight. I am a minister of Christ. I have a message to your country."

"I took you for a minister. You are welcome to Summerfield; and to a home with us while you tarry. This is my wife, sir, and that is my daughter. Walk into the house, walk in; and I will take care of your horse: you both look weary."

The horse was unsaddled, and washed with cool water from the well, and turned into a field of fresh clover; and the stranger followed Mrs. Fabens and Fanny into the house; and, after resting and bathing, a good supper, with a dessert of peaches and cream, was taken. Evening came on, and with it a long conversation, and before they retired, the hour was approaching midnight.

"As you are a minister, sir, will you tell me of what persuasion?" asked Fabens, while they conversed.

"The persuasion of Christmas I believe," said the minister with a gentle affability. "I think little of sects. They are too exclusive and formal. I love the church of Christ. That is catholic and real; that embraces the good of all sects, and is the mother of us all."

"I agree with you there. A sect is a body too little and low for the spirit of Christ. But I didn't know but you held to one of the particular creeds of Christians."

"The Bible is my creed and counsel."

"That is right. But you preach a doctrine peculiar to some one of the Christian denominations, I suppose? I am not particular to know, however. It was only my curiosity."

"I am not particular to conceal my views. I would be glad to preach in your neighborhood, and allow you to judge of my doctrine. I would be glad to preach next Sunday."

"The only meeting-house in town, I am sorry to say, is occupied every Sunday. I have no doubt but Mr. Darling, our minister, would be glad to have the people hear you. He is a good man; and, if he is a sectarian, he is not so exclusive as many."

"I would not ask him to give up his pulpit to a stranger. It would not be best, I think, to apply to him. Have you not a school-house, or barn, that would convene the people with comfort? I am used to such temples of worship."

"Our school-house is small, and our barns are full; and I am sorry it happens so, for I want to hear your message."

"Then I will preach in the open air. Fix me a stand under your shade-tree, and I'll want no better place. I'll be in God's free temple then—a fit place for God's free gospel."

"It shall be done for you; and I will send around notice far and near. And shall we hear something against the sects, and their cant and dogmas?"

"No, not at present, from me. Truth will wage its own warfare when given fair play; and while I leave truth to conquer, I denounce less, and invite the more. Set the Infinite Good before the people, and invite them to rise and accept it; and they are very sure, sooner or later, to come. This was Christ's way. He opened heaven on earth, and invited men to prepare and receive its light and joy to their mourning souls. 'Repent,' said he, 'for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.'"

"If the people heard more of this preaching," said Fabens, "they would rouse from their indifference, and live a heavenly life."

"The world has been denounced for indifference," said the Minister; "but the world is not all to blame. The gospel it hears is too seldom of the inviting kind, adapted to its wants, addressed to its affections and reason. Men have been fed on the letter, while needing the spirit and truth which the letter conceals. Preachers have spun too much gossamer and tinsel; and woven too little solid bang-up and beaver for wear and comfort. The people have been served with too many custards and candies of entertainment, while hungering hotly for the bread of life."

"Very true," said Fabens. "I have felt this hunger myself, though our preacher here has given us very good fare."

"In consequence of this error," said the Minister, "many good people have taken the impression that there is nothing in religion worthy of their first concern. That it has not a spirit which will act on a week day; and neither food nor clothing for the soul can be found among its provisions.—Why, sir, religion is a legacy of infinite love to a world groaning in sin. It has power to change this earth to a paradise, and transfigure its inhabitants to angels. It is the one thing needful for every-day life; the principal requisite for a true integrity and honor; the actual virtue; the legitimate hope; the perfect charity; the paramount peace; the kingdom of heaven at hand. As men permit its warm influence to stream down into their hearts, they will kindle and rise to a new and noble life, and walk and live in heaven."

"I am confident of that," said Fabens, "and I am glad you are out on a mission of this gospel. I am sure we need it enough in this neighborhood."

"Christians should be all on fire with the spirit of this religion now," said the Minister. "They should give it forth to the world as a vital heat warming up the temple of the heart like a furnace; a light, flooding every niche and cranny of that temple with full illumination; a fountain, watering all its sanctities and graces; and music, filling it to overflow with the voice of heavenly song."

"Give me that religion," said Fabens, "and I shall be rich and high indeed. But I cannot hope to enjoy it in such full and actual life."

"The world is like you," said the Minister. "It wants hopefulness. It wants hope in God, and faith in his providence. Here is the grand want; hope in God and faith in his providence. God is doing his work in this world at this hour; his spirit moves on the waters now, bringing peace out of discord, and light out of darkness; and the people should know and feel it as a vital truth. When they do, they will rely on his love, and enjoy his religion."

"I wish you would give us a sermon on this subject," said Fabens.

"I will," said the Minister, and they concluded the conversation, attended prayers and retired to rest.

Arrangements were made, and notice, circulated for the meeting. The hour of the meeting came, and it was a placid and splendid hour as ever gilded a country Sabbath.