Its sharp pitch roof was pulled well down over its eyes, which were four square, shining windows, divided into twenty-four small panes of glass, so full of bubbles and dimples that they made the passer-by seem sadly distorted, and the spire of the church opposite have a strange bend in it.
John Ward's study had not a great many books.

He could not afford them, for one reason; but, with a row of Edwards, and some of Dr.Samuel Hopkins' sermons, and pamphlets by Dr.Emmons, he could spare all but one or two volumes of Hodge and Shedd, who, after all, but reiterate, in a form suited to a weaker age, the teachings of Dr.Jonathan Edwards.
The dim Turkey carpet was worn down to the nap in a little path in front of his bookshelves, where he used to stand absorbed in reading, or where he walked back and forth, thinking out his dark and threatening sermons.
For before his marriage John preached the law rather than the gospel.
"So I am going to hear you preach on Sunday ?" Helen said, the Saturday morning after their return.

"It's odd that I've never heard you, and we have known each other more than a year." He was at his desk, and she rested her hand lightly on his shoulder.

He put down his pen, and turned to look up into her face.

"Perhaps you will not like my sermons;" there was a little wistfulness in his dark eyes as he spoke.
"Oh, yes, I shall," she said, with smiling certainty.