"After all," observed Mr. Llewellin, "the simplest form of worship appears to me the most to be commended, where the mind runs no danger of mistaking the mere excitement of the imagination for a burst of devotional feeling."
"Certainly," I returned; "and I quite agree with Cheever's remark in his Wanderings, which I was reading last night, that it is generally the period of greatest spiritual declension where we find ecclesiastical architecture most magnificent. But hark!"
The organist had, unseen by us, ascended to the loft to practise; and at this moment pealed forth a majestic voluntary, which sublimely rolled away to the extremity of the building, and then returned in a softer strain through the re-echoing aisles. Another and another succeeded. We both stood for some moments rooted to the spot, surrendering ourselves to the overpowering influence of the sacred strain. The music ceased for a few moments, and, recovering myself, I exclaimed, "Let us haste from this bewitching influence, which I am afraid savours but too much of mere earthly excitement." "I think so too," rejoined Mr. Llewellin; "and, nevertheless, I can well understand the lines of the poet Gray:—
'Where through the long drawn aisle and fretted vault
The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.'"
As our time was then nearly expired, we returned to our inn, and shortly afterwards started again in the coach; and after a journey of some hours, reached Watville, where we found Mr. Stevens' carriage waiting to convey us to Fairmount. It is needless to say how warmly we were welcomed by our friends, whom we had the pleasure of finding in excellent health. Soon after the first greetings were over, and we had arranged our toilet and made ourselves comfortable, Mrs. Stevens, with a peculiar smile on her countenance, which told tales, said to Mr. Llewellin, "Mr. and Miss Roscoe are engaged to spend the evening with us; no doubt this will be a gratification to you." This communication at once raised his spirits, which had been gradually sinking as we approached the end of our journey. I was no longer at a loss to account for the sighs which had occasionally made their escape from his breast during the short intervals of silence that took place in the course of conversation. His countenance now brightened up, and he seemed to be animated by a more than usual flow of spirits.
A storm of snow began now to descend as we gathered snugly around the cheerful fire, and for a time enjoyed ourselves in familiar converse by its uncertain light. Candles had been brought, and Mrs. Stevens was busying herself with the tea arrangements, when the bell rang, and Mr. Roscoe was ushered into the parlour; but he came alone. "I am sorry to inform you, Madam, that Sophia will not be able to be with you this evening, as she has caught a cold."
"I hope, Sir," said Mr. Llewellin, with a certain awkwardness of manner of which gentlemen are sometimes guilty when they feel too much to express, "that she is not materially affected by it."
"O no, Sir, it is only a slight cold, and she is unwilling to expose herself to the night-air, lest she should be incapable of going to church in the morning."
After tea our conversation turned upon the festivals of the church, and the propriety of observing those days which are set apart for the celebration of the great events which stand connected with the redemption of man. "I was once," said Mr. Roscoe, "superstitiously attached to these days, and regarded them with more reverence than I did the Sabbath; but I have now corrected the error into which I had fallen, and though I still reverence them more than the common days of the year, I do not look upon them as equal to the Sabbath in obligation or sanctity."
"Some Dissenters," said Mrs. Stevens, "who wish to get as far away from the church as they can, reprobate this observance as savouring of Popery. Is it not so, Mr. Llewellin?"