It was a beautiful balmy morning in June; the whole earth rejoiced in the soft sunshine and sweet breezes; and around the sumachs and crab-apple trees, by the road-side fences, where the dew was still cool on the green leaves, there were glad birds singing joyously, as the wheels went humming through the sand.

No careless child could have enjoyed the ride more than the good Father Brighthopes did. It was delightful to hear him talk of the religion to be drawn from fresh meadows, running brooks, the deep solitude of woods, and majestic mountains crags.

"And to think that the good God made all for us to enjoy!" he said, with his clear blue orbs tremulous with tears.

"You give me new ideas of religion," replied Mr. Royden. "It always seemed to me a hard and gloomy thing."

"Hard and gloomy?"—The old man clasped his hands, with deep emotion, and his face radiated with inexpressible joy. "O! how softening, how bright it is! The true spirit of religion makes men happier than all earthly comforts and triumphs can do; it is a cold and mechanical adherence to the mere forms of religion,—from fear, or a dark sense of duty,—which appears gloomy. Look at the glorious sky, with its soft blue depths, and floating silvery clouds; pass into the shadowy retreats of the cool woods; breathe the sweet air that comes from kissing green fields and dallying on beds of flowers; hear the birds sing,—and you must feel your heart opened, your soul warmed, your inmost thoughts kindled with love: love for God, love for man, love for everything: and this is religion."

So the old clergyman talked on; his simple and natural words bubbling from his lips like crystal waters, and filling his companions' hearts with new and refreshing truths.

Chester drove up before a handsome white cottage, which was one of a thin cluster of houses grouped around an old-fashioned country meeting-house.

"Here our minister lives," said Mr. Royden. "You must see him, first of any."

He helped the old man out of the wagon, while Chester tied the horse.

"What a delightful residence!" said Father Brighthopes. "Ah! let me stop and take a look at these busy bees!"

There were two small hives perched upon a bench, under a plum-tree, and the happy insects were incessantly creeping in and out, through the small apertures,—flying abroad, humming in the flowers of the sweet thyme that loaded the air with fragrance, and coming home with their legs yellowed from tiny cups and bells. The old man was so charmed with the scene, that he could hardly be prevailed upon to leave it, and walk along the path towards the cottage door.

"We see so little of such delightful exhibitions of nature, in city life," said he, "that in the country I am like a child intoxicated with novelty."

They made but a brief call on the minister, who was a young and boyish-looking man of about twenty-five. He received them in his study, a luxurious little room, with a window open upon the little garden in front of the house, and shaded by thick jasmines, trained on the wall. He showed no very warm inclination to sociability, but deigned to treat the old man with an air of deference and patronage, for which he no doubt gave himself much credit. It seemed quite a relief to him when his visitors arose to go, and he politely bowed them to the door.

"If any man leads an easy life, Mr. Corlis does," muttered Chester, as they went through the little gate.

"Hush, boy!" said his father, good-humoredly. "You can't expect a minister to go into the fields, to work with his hands."

"I don't say what I expect him to do; but I can tell pretty well what he does. During the week, he compiles commonplaces, which he calls sermons, drinks tea with his parishioners, and patronizes the sewing-circle. On the Sabbath he certainly labors hard, preaching dulness from the high pulpit, and mesmerizing his congregation."

"What do you talk such nonsense for?" returned Mr. Royden, laughing inwardly.

"Young men learn the ministers' trade, in order to live lazy lives, half the time," continued the young man.

"Too often—too often!"—Father Brighthopes shook his head sadly,—"but judge not all by the few. Idleness is a sore temptation to young clergymen, I know. Their position is fraught with peril. Alas for those who prefer their own ease to doing their Master's work! This consists not only in preaching Christianity from the pulpit, but in preaching it in their daily walks; in acting it, living it, carrying it like an atmosphere about them, and warming with its warmth the hearts of the poor and sorrowful. O, Lord, what a lovely and boundless field thou has given thy servants! Let them not lie idle in the shade of the creeds our fathers planted, nor cease to turn the soil and sow the seed!"

The earnest prayer thrilled the hearts of Chester and his father. It may be another heart was touched with its fire. Mr. Corlis overheard the words, as he listened at his study-window, and his cheek and forehead glowed with a blush of shame.

Mr. Royden and Chester took their old friend to make one or two more calls, and returned home for dinner. Samuel Cone felt very faint, as he lay on the grass in the yard, and saw them coming.