Then Came the Sermon

in the afternoon, and it was exactly like the one in the forenoon except the other end to. Then we started for home—a solemn march, "not a soldier discharged his farewell shot"—and when we got home if we had been real good boys, we used to be taken up to the cemetery to cheer us up, and it always did cheer me. Those sunken graves, those leaning stones, those gloomy epitaphs, covered with the moss of years, always cheered me. When I looked at them I said "Well this kind of thing can't last always." Then we came back home and we had books to read which were very eloquent and amusing. We had "Josephus," and the "History of the Waldenses," and "Fox's Book of the Martyrs," Baxter's "Saints Rest," and "Jenkyn on the Atonement." I used to read Jenkyn with a good deal of pleasure, and I often thought that the atonement would have to be very broad in its provisions to cover the case of a man that would write such a book for the boys, hen I would look to see how the sun was getting on, and sometimes I thought it had stuck from pure stubbornness. Then I would go back and try Jenkyn again. Well, but it had to go down, and when the last rim of light sank below the horizon, off would go our hats and we would give three cheers for liberty once again.

I tell you