Sunday, Sept. 19. My wife has gone to church. I can hear the bells ringing in the distance as I write.... Now they cease, and at this very moment the clergyman, "snowy-banded, delicate-handed," is ascending the pulpit stairs, amid the reverent hush of his congregation. Though several times of late she has suggested that a little church-going would do me good, Ellen did not ask me to accompany her on this occasion; indeed, I thought at first that she...