XLIX.

EASTER SUNDAY.

Dear sisters:--It seemed to me as if I never could go into that Catholic meeting-house again; but when Sunday came, E. E. got up so cherk and bright, that I couldn't say "No" when she wanted me to start with her to St. Stephen's meeting-house.

"You will hear no more crying and sobbing," says she, "everything will be bright and beautiful; no more penitential psalms; no more darkness.

Christ has risen!"

My heart rose and swelled, like a frozen apple thrown into hot water, when I got into the meeting. It was raining like fury out of doors, but inside everything blazed with glory. The great white altar flashed and flamed with snow-white candles, bunched like stars in tall candlesticks, branched off with gold. Two great candles, as thick as your waist, burned like pillars of snow afire inside, on each side of the steps. Up amongst the golden candlesticks were two square Maltese crosses--like the cross we are used to, only one end is cut off short to match the others--all of white flowers, with just a little red at the tips, as if a few drops of innocent blood had stained them. Then there were beautiful half-moons made of milk-white flowers lying on beds of purple flowers, but there was no other color on that altar.

On an altar which I had not seen in the darkness, when I was there before, a lamb--as large as life, made out of flowers so white that it seemed as if they must have grown in heaven itself--stood among the lights that shone, like crowded stars, out from behind it. Across its shoulders this lamb carried a cross so blood-red, that it chilled me through and through.

Above this altar hung a great cross six feet high, which seemed to float in the air. It was made of gas-drops that quivered into each other, and struck out colors that the fire seemed to have drank up from the flowers, and turned into light that was glorious.

Over this cross floated a crown of fire, that seemed to tremble and shake with every gust of air, as if it had just floated down from heaven, and, meeting the cross, hovered over it.

I had but just time enough to see all this, when from the other side of the great altar, came a lot of boys, walking two and two, with white shoes on their feet, and white dresses--I should have called them frocks if it had been girls that wore them--all fastened with crimson b.u.t.tons, and crimson silk scarfs were thrown across their shoulders. Then came a lot more, dressed in scarlet frocks and white shoes; and after them another cla.s.s in white, with purple scarfs across their shoulders.

These boys--they were real handsome little fellows--stood themselves around the altar. Then came two men, all in black and white, and after them four others, dressed like kings and princes, all in scarlet and gold, and lace and precious stones.

These men knelt down on the steps of the altar. Then everybody in the meeting-house knelt too. After a few minutes they got up, and out from somewhere in the meeting-house, a low roar of music burst over us, and with it came a rush of voices singing out, "Lord, have mercy on us!

Lord, have mercy on us."

Then there was a lull, and after that a whole torrent of gushing music, with an undertone of rolling sounds, and out of the noise came these words that seemed to catch up one's heart and fly away with it:

"Glory to G.o.d on high, peace and good-will to men!"

Oh, how this rush of sound rose and swelled, and glorified itself! It seemed as if you could see Christ rising from the sepulchre, and all the angels of heaven rejoicing over it.

Then came more music. I cannot tell you what it was like, only it made my heart stir and throb, as if it wanted to break loose and mount upwards, singing as it went.

At last a low voice sung, all alone, clear and high as a bird in the air. After that, deep, deep silence settled on the whole congregation, and everybody dropped down on their knees. Then one of the men in scarlet and gold went a step higher on the altar, and took from it a gold cup, which he held high up in one hand. Out of this cup he lifted a round thing that looked more like a cracker than anything else, and held it up between his thumb and finger. I was going to ask E. E. what it was all about, but she was bending forward, with her face almost on the floor, and everybody around us was taking an extra kneel, which I did not understand. Everything kept still, the congregation bent close to the floor, and everybody seemed to be thinking to themselves for as much as ten minutes. Then the whole congregation lifted its head. The boys in red and white frocks swung the bra.s.s lamps, which sent clouds of sweet, white smoke up amongst the flowers, and out came another burst of music, louder, sweeter, and more triumphant than anything I had heard yet. It just carried me right off from my feet.

After this, one of the crimson and gold men on the altar turned round, and spread out his arms. Two others caught hold of his dress, and held it out on each side, and dropped it again. The boys in white and scarlet and purple made themselves into double lines, and walked out of the door they came in by. The leading scarlet and gold man took the gold cup in his hands, and followed after, and the other men in their sparkling dresses--with those two in black and white--walked beside and behind him while he carried it out.

There was a little stir in the congregation after this, but by and by the man who had stood on the steps of the altar and carried out the cup, came back in another dress, and went up into a little cubby-house of a pulpit, where he preached a beautiful sermon, which I didn't understand a word of, and then Easter was over in that church.

When we got out of church I felt like a bird with its wings spread out wide. It was raining like Jehu, but I didn't care for that; the music, the flowers, the bursts of light had made me feel like another creature.

Even the stormy sky looked splendid. But when we got home, I began to think over what I had seen and heard, and as soon as Cousin E. E. seemed to feel like talking, I put a few questions to her.

"Cousin," says I, "who were the men that came out there, all glistening with gold and things, and stood on the steps of the altar?"

"Them? Why, they were the priests."

"Oh! And the one who held that cup in his hand--wasn't he something a little more particular than the rest?"

"He was the arch-priest."

"You don't say so! But what was that round thing he lifted out of the cup?"

"That? Why, Phmie, that was the Host!"

"There was a host of people on the floor, of course; but I mean the little thing he held up between his thumb and finger?"

"That?" says Cousin E. E., a-lifting up both hands, as if I'd done something dreadful. "That is the holy wafer."

"The what, Cousin E. E.?"

"The body of our Saviour."

"Oh, cousin, how can you?" says I, a-feeling myself grow cold all over.

"It is so, Phmie. As yet you may not understand the mystery, but in time you will see it."

I couldn't answer her, she was in such solemn earnest; but then and there I made up my mind that we should have to talk over that matter in earnest before long, for I felt the Pilgrim blood riling up in my bosom.

"Do Episcopalians believe that?" says I.

"Those that take a high stand do," says she.

"Well," says I, "we won't talk that over just now. But whose boys were those that swung the lamps and stood round the altar?"

"Oh, those were the acolytes."

"Any relations to the boys we saw at morning service?" says I.

"Oh, they are all the same."

"Mercy on me!" says I; "what a large family of boys--and so near of an age, too!"

E. E. lifted her head and gave me the ghost of a smile--that was all. I believe she felt that talking was a sin just then, and I felt a little that way myself.

"That music was splendid," says I, "and the flowers. I don't think I ever was in any meeting-house that seemed so close to heaven. But then I always had a hankering after such things. And why not? If G.o.d gives us music and flowers, light and sweet odors, can it be wrong to render them back to him? Cousin, I never knew what power there was in such things till now."

"Phmie," says she--and a queer smile came over her face--"I shouldn't wonder if you go back, at last, a High Church woman. Then what would the Society say?"

I felt myself turning red--as if I, Phmie Frost, could change in the religion of my forefathers!

"No," says I; "there I am firm as a rock; but with firmness, I hope, cousin, that I join toleration. It seems to me that our Pilgrim Fathers made a mistake when they expected all mankind to think with them, and another mistake when they put aside the holiest and most solemnly beautiful days of all the year--those upon which our blessed Lord was born, suffered, and ascended into heaven.

L.