The Church of Saint Polycarp had very much the look of a Roman Catholic chapel.I do not wish to run the risk of giving names to the ecclesiastical furniture which gave it such a Romish aspect; but there were pictures, and inscriptions in antiquated characters, and there were reading-stands, and flowers on the altar, and other elegant arrangements.Then there were boys to sing alternately in choirs responsive to each other, and there was much bowing, with very loud responding, and a long service and a short sermon, and a bag, such as Judas used to hold in the old pictures, was carried round to receive contributions.Everything was done not only "decently and in order," but, perhaps one might say, with a certain air of magnifying their office on the part of the dignified clergymen, often two or three in number.The music and the free welcome were grateful to Iris, and she forgot her prejudices at the door of the chapel.For this was a church with open doors, with seats for all classes and all colors alike,--a church of zealous worshippers after their faith, of charitable and serviceable men and women, one that took care of its children and never forgot its poor, and whose people were much more occupied in looking out for their own souls than in attacking the faith of their neighbors.In its mode of worship there was a union of two qualities,--the taste and refinement, which the educated require just as much in their churches as elsewhere, and the air of stateliness, almost of pomp, which impresses the common worshipper, and is often not without its effect upon those who think they hold outward forms as of little value.Under the half-Romish aspect of the Church of Saint Polycarp, the young girl found a devout and loving and singularly cheerful religious spirit.The artistic sense, which betrayed itself in the dramatic proprieties of its ritual, harmonized with her taste.The mingled murmur of the loud responses, in those rhythmic phrases, so simple, yet so fervent, almost as if every tenth heart-beat, instead of its dull tic-tac, articulated itself as "Good Lord, deliver us! "--the sweet alternation of the two choirs, as their holy song floated from side to side, the keen young voices rising like a flight of singing-birds that passes from one grove to another, carrying its music with it back and forward,--why should she not love these gracious outward signs of those inner harmonies which none could deny made beautiful the lives of many of her fellow-worshippers in the humble, yet not inelegant Chapel of Saint Polycarp?
The young Marylander, who was born and bred to that mode of worship, had introduced her to the chapel, for which he did the honors for such of our boarders as were not otherwise provided for.I saw them looking over the same prayer-book one Sunday, and I could not help thinking that two such young and handsome persons could hardly worship together in safety for a great while.But they seemed to mind nothing but their prayer-book.By-and-by the silken bag was handed round.--I don't believe she will; so awkward, you know;-besides, she only came by invitation.There she is, with her hand in her pocket, though,--and sure enough, her little bit of silver tinkled as it struck the coin beneath.God bless her! she has n't much to give; but her eye glistens when she gives it, and that is all Heaven asks.--That was the first time I noticed these young people together, and I am sure they behaved with the most charming propriety,--in fact, there was one of our silent lady-boarders with them, whose eyes would have kept Cupid and Psyche to their good behavior.A day or two after this I noticed that the young gentleman had left his seat, which you may remember was at the corner diagonal to that of Iris, so that they have been as far removed from each other as they could be at the table.His new seat is three or four places farther down the table.Of course I made a romance out of this, at once.So stupid not to see it! How could it be otherwise?--Did you speak, Madam? I beg your pardon.(To my lady-reader.)I never saw anything like the tenderness with which this young girl treats her little deformed neighbor.If he were in the way of going to church, I know she would follow him.But his worship, if any, is not with the throng of men and women and staring children.
I, the Professor, on the other hand, am a regular church-goer.Ishould go for various reasons if I did not love it; but I am happy enough to find great pleasure in the midst of devout multitudes, whether I can accept all their creeds or not.One place of worship comes nearer than the rest to my ideal standard, and to this it was that I carried our young girl.
The Church of the Galileans, as it is called, is even humbler in outside pretensions than the Church of Saint Polycarp.Like that, it is open to all comers.The stranger who approaches it looks down a quiet street and sees the plainest of chapels,--a kind of wooden tent, that owes whatever grace it has to its pointed windows and the high, sharp roofs--traces, both, of that upward movement of ecclesiastical architecture which soared aloft in cathedral-spires, shooting into the sky as the spike of a flowering aloe from the cluster of broad, sharp-wedged leaves below.This suggestion of medieval symbolism, aided by a minute turret in which a hand-bell might have hung and found just room enough to turn over, was all of outward show the small edifice could boast.Within there was very little that pretended to be attractive.A small organ at one side, and a plain pulpit, showed that the building was a church; but it was a church reduced to its simplest expression:
