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CHAPTER V.

MODERN ACCOMPLISHMENTS.

THE church bell resounded sweetly through the clear frosty air on Christmas morning, and all hearts were ready to obey the welcome signal.

Constance and Evelyn, Vivian and Captain Delamere made up a partie carrée for the open carriage; Mr. and Mrs. Melville, with little Alice, more prudently sheltered themselves within the family coach.

"I hope we are not late," said Mr. Melville, looking at his watch; "our good pastor is always exact to a minute, and faithful to his motto of 'punctual ministers make a punctual congregation.' I wish all our clocks and watches kept time as perfectly as he does."

We cannot venture, as a distinguished author has recently done, to give the sermon of this particular occasion, though if we dared to do so, it would be by far the best part of our story. But the discourses of the pastor were the least part of his ministry, and we prefer giving some idea of his character.

The beautiful portrait of Goldsmith presents an ideal far more perfect than any our feeble pencil could delineate; but there were some traits in the modest

excellence of our model which deserve to be recorded. To the excellencies traced by the poet, Mr. Bloomfield added a strength of purpose and an efficiency of action which could be derived alone from the highest

source.

His anxieties were not for the wealthier portion of his flock, for in their comparatively simple mode of life, they were not exposed to the dangers of either "poverty or riches," the extremes so justly deprecated by the wise ruler of Israel. It was to the poor, and especially to the young, that his attention was chiefly directed. The children of his flock esteemed it a privilege to receive the instruction so regularly and diligently bestowed, and the poorest African looked up to him as a friend who could point him to the way of life.

This humble class, with all the warmth of affection and Oriental fervor of imagination that so readily lend themselves to the teaching of a superior mind, was his especial care; and the afternoon of every Sabbath day was scrupulously and regularly devoted to their instruction.

He was beloved even by the most thoughtless of the younger part of his flock, for while he warned them faithfully, he indulged in no pragmatical interference where pious parents were competent to direct them. Yet even thoughtless youth had been known to sacrifice the "pernicious weed" and other still more dangerous indulgences when he earnestly represented them as destructive to the over stimulated mind of the student, and adding by needless and unwarrantable expense, a still heavier burthen to some

widowed mother who lived in penury to save her scanty pittance for the education of a darling son.

In his parochial duties, Mrs. Bloomfield was his best assistant, simply by relieving him of all the cares of his family, which, if they had devolved upon him, would have checked or perhaps destroyed his usefulness. Her extreme modesty gave her an air of timidity that enhanced the interest she inspired when her real merit was known, for it was felt, rather than seen, by its happy results.

The small parsonage was, under her guidance, a model of exquisite neatness and comfort. The porches with their sheltering vines, the roses and jasmine that clustered round her doors, embellished the more substantial evidences of her good management as seen in "kitchen, parlor and hall." Her children were distinguished equally by their faultless but scrupulously plain attire and their unobtrusive manners. Every duty of a housewife was at her command, and the snowy linen and bands of the minister were always the work of her own hands. It was even said that her industry supplied the leather gloves with which his hands were protected, when engaged, as was his wont, in the culture of the small garden; "for those hands," she said, "merited this peculiar care, since they were, literally as well as figuratively, to dispense the bread of life."

It was no wonder that such a family should have been equally loved, respected, and sought by all who knew them, and they found a cordial welcome more frequently than they had leisure to avail themselves of it, in every home and in every heart.

On the return of the family of Avonmore and their visitors from church, Mr. Melville was met on the steps by Johnson, who informed him that in his absence Dr. Fowler and his family had arrived.

"You have made them comfortable, I hope," said Mr. Melville to him.

"Yes, sir; my mother," for Johnson, though the only son of Mammy, thought it inconsistent with his usual elegant politeness to use the homely appellation bestowed on her by the family, "my mother has carried them to their rooms, sir, and I sent for the baggage."

"Carried them to their rooms, and sent for the baggage," repeated Vivian apart to Captain Delamere; "these words must sound strangely to you, in such use. Perhaps you will feel more inclined to apply the latter word to Miss Kezia, from my father's representation of the paternal."

Constance and Evelyn overheard him, and shook their muffs threateningly at him, as they tripped up the steps of the portico and passed on to throw off their hats and furs. When they entered the parlor they were presented by Mr. Melville to the Doctor and his family, who were already there.

The Doctor was a tall, gaunt man, with a complexion like a winter apple that had been very completely frozen and then very completely thawed again. It was, in short, a miraculous assemblage of wrinkles that clustered around every feature, and especially about his small twinkling gray eyes, where they were magnified into "crows' feet." He wore an auburn wig, which was apparently placed very loosely on his

head, for in animated conversation it was often pushed from one side to the other, so as to give no small variety to the depth and expression of his ample forehead. That it was indeed a wig, was put beyond a doubt by small patches of white hairs that seemed to take a malicious pleasure in peeping out, and as it were, reproaching the hypocrisy of their more youthful and elegant neighbors. But, en revanche, and to please the taste of his younger consort, the Doctor had dyed his whiskers in a color corresponding with the wig, though with so little precaution, that a streak of auburn was visible on the cheek beneath them, and the operation seemed to have given a tinge, judging from their peculiar color, to the ends of his fingers in performing it.

Mrs. Fowler was a fat, jolly woman, short in stature, and with that convenient and nondescript coloring generally denominated sandy; with hair, eyes, skin, eyebrows and eyelashes so perfectly assorted as to defy the most critical observer to detect a shade of difference. Her hair, which had the very great advantage of remaining young, because gray hairs are as imperceptible in it as in the coveted and admired blonde cendrée, was arranged, or rather drawn up to the top of her head with fantastic curls in front that looked as if they had been calmed down from a recent fit of insanity by "pouring oil upon the waves."

Miss Kezia Fowler was the exact resemblance of her mother, only that in face and stature she was smaller and slighter. It was the difference of looking through the opposite ends of a magnifying glass.

They were attired in the same style, in different

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