Bonaparte twisted his eyes without moving his head, to see if supper were already on the fire.
"You must sorely miss the administration of the Lord's word in this desolate spot," added Bonaparte.

"Oh, how love I Thine house, and the place where Thine honour dwelleth!" "Well, we do; yes," said the German; "but we do our best.

We meet together, and I--well, I say a few words, and perhaps they are not wholly lost, not quite." "Strange coincidence," said Bonaparte; "my plan always was the same.
Was in the Free State once--solitary farm--one neighbour.

Every Sunday I called together friend and neighbour, child and servant, and said, 'Rejoice with me, that we may serve the Lord,' and then I addressed them.

Ah, those were blessed times," said Bonaparte; "would they might return." The German stirred at the cakes, and stirred, and stirred, and stirred.
He could give the stranger his bed, and he could give the stranger his hat, and he could give the stranger his brandy; but his Sunday service! After a good while he said: "I might speak to Tant Sannie; I might arrange; you might take the service in my place, if it--" "My friend," said Bonaparte, "it would give me the profoundest felicity, the most unbounded satisfaction; but in these worn-out habiliments, in these deteriorated garments, it would not be possible, it would not be fitting that I should officiate in service of One whom, for respect, we shall not name.