A New Graft on the Family Tree by Pansy

SUNDAY morning dawned at last, with as bright a sunshine as ever May produced. The air was crisp and clear, and the level road was frozen hard. Look which way he would, Farmer Morgan would have found it hard to produce an excuse why the family should not appear in church. To be sure, he often said that he didn't "feel like going; " and as John wouldn't go, that had heretofore settled the matter for the mother and Dorothy, whether they would or not. But on this morning, Louise and Lewis came from their room evidently dressed for the day; and Louise, with confident air, remarked-

"What a nice morning for a ride! if one didn't care for church-going, it would be pleasant to get out to-day."

In Lewis's mind were some doubts as to who of the family could go, as the small spring-waggon would not accommodate more than four; but Farmer Morgan settled it by saying in positive voice-

"You'll have to go to-day, John, and drive. I've got a stiff neck, and I don't feel like going out."

"I guess Lewis hasn't forgot how to drive," John began sullenly: "I ain't going to church."

"You can go to church or not, just as you like, when you get down there, I s'pose; but you will have to drive the horses, for the colt has got to go, and she isn't used to Lewis, and I won't have him drive her. It would look more decent to go to church, I think; but you've got so you don't care much about decency, and I s'pose you'll do as you please. -You going, mother?"

"No! " said Mrs. Morgan promptly; "I'll get the dinner. Dorothy can go, if she likes."

And the instant glow on Dorothy's cheek told that she "liked. " Only John was sullen; he did not recover during the entire ride; spoke only to the horses, save when Dorothy gave little frightened jumps when the colt seemed to her not to be moving with propriety; then the driver snappishly directed her to "sit still and not act like a simpleton."

Arrived at the church door, he sat still, allowing Lewis to alight and wait on the ladies.

"Let us wait for John," Louise said, as her husband turned from the waggon; "it is nicer to all go in together."

John opened his lips, and if ever lips were going to say, "John isn't coming," his were; but he hesitated, looked down at the young, earnest face turned with a confident air toward him, then turned away, snapped his whip, and said nothing.

"You'll be here in a minute, won't you, John?"

"Yes," he said, or rather snapped, as though he was disgusted with himself for the answer; then giving the colt a smart touch with the whip, she curveted around the corner in a style which would surely have made Dorothy scream had she been behind her.

"That is only a little short of a miracle," Lewis said in surprise. "I never knew John to compromise his dignity by going to church after he had announced that he wasn't going, and that announcement is the rule rather than the exception."

"I felt as though he must come to church this morning, somehow," Louise made answer in a low tone. "I couldn't give it up; it has been the burden of my prayer all the morning."

To which remark Lewis Morgan had no reply to make; he remembered, with a sudden sting of conscience, that he had not so much as thought of his brother's name in prayer that morning. Reasoning upon common sense principles, how much could he have desired his presence in the church?

It was a quiet little village church, looking natural enough to the eyes of the usual worshippers; but what a strange feeling it gave Louise! She was accustomed to broad, soft-carpeted aisles; richly carved and upholstered seats; costly pulpit furnishing; massive organ, with solemn tones filling the church. Here her feet trod on bare floors, and the old-fashioned pew, to which she was ushered, had neither footstool nor cushion, though it was high enough to demand the one and hard enough to suggest the other. The red and yellow tassels, which depended from the pulpit cushion, were frayed and faded; the sun streamed in unpleasantly from windows that boasted of neither shades nor blinds; and there was a general air of dilapidation about everything. She looked around with curious eyes on the congregation: their appearance was not in keeping with the surroundings; they looked well-dressed and well-bred, as if the most of them might have come out from comfortable homes to spend this hour together. To all such, what a painful contrast between the comforts and the luxuries of their own homes must the house of God have presented; while to those who came from desolate homes, if there were any such, what attractions did the place offer? "It isn't even clean," the new-comer said to herself, her lip almost curling as she saw the stray bits of paper and card scattered over the floor, and the dust lying loosely everywhere. "If they care for the church at all, why don't they keep it in order?"