There was something in the fine , elusive air , that recalled beautiful , forgotten things and suggested delicate future hopes . The woods had wrapped fine-woven gossamers about them and the westering hill was crimson and gold . We sat around the Pulpit Stone and waited for Peter and Sara Ray . It was the former 's Sunday off and he had gone home the night before , but he assured us he would be back in time to preach his sermon . Presently he arrived and mounted the granite boulder as if to the manor born . He was dressed in his new suit and I , perceiving this , felt that he had the advantage of me . When I preached I had to wear my second best suit , for it was one of Aunt Janet 's laws that we should take our good suits off when we came home from church . There were , I saw , compensations for being a hired boy . Peter made quite a handsome little minister , in his navy blue coat , white collar , and neatly bowed tie . His black eyes shone , and his black curls were brushed up in quite a ministerial pompadour , but threatened to tumble over at the top in graceless ringlets . It was decided that there was no use in waiting for Sara Ray , who might or might not come , according to the humour in which her mother was . Therefore Peter proceeded with the service . He read the chapter and gave out the hymn with as much SANG FROID as if he had been doing it all his life . Mr. Marwood himself could not have bettered the way in which Peter said , `` We will sing the whole hymn , omitting the fourth stanza . '' That was a fine touch which I had not thought of . I began to think that , after all , Peter might be a foeman worthy of my steel . When Peter was ready to begin he thrust his hands into his pockets -- a totally unorthodox thing . Then he plunged in without further ado , speaking in his ordinary conversational tone -- another unorthodox thing . There was no shorthand reporter present to take that sermon down ; but , if necessary , I could preach it over verbatim , and so , I doubt not , could everyone that heard it . It was not a forgettable kind of sermon .
`` Dearly beloved , '' said Peter , `` my sermon is about the bad place -- in short , XXXXX hell . ''
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