easy to explain my absence; not so easy to forgive the thoughtlessness which has caused you such cruel distress. But you will own that my feelings on inquiring for you at the inn may have been some punishment at least!'

'Ah! I see,' said Constantia, beginning to understand the cause of her perplexities; 'it was my own fault, after all! How could I allow my impatience to blind me so far! I might have known you would not send for me in that way. I have read too many novels, Edward; and smiles, shining through the tears which still flowed plentifully, once more lighted the sweet face of Constantia, and cheered the heart of her husband.

'Come, I will tell you all about it as we return,' said Dailey' 'My mother, with a whole party of friends, has come over to L-, to meet you, and they will be anxious until we return, although we had some intelligence of your whereabout from the people of the tavern, who knew your amiable driver, and ought to have interfered to prevent his carrying you off. You will not be very ready to run away from me again, I think!'

To think that so much study of life beforehand should have produced such very ludicrous results! We need not say that the study of living men and women, and plain, common things, proved much more profitable to our fair bride under her husband's tuition.

Perhaps severe judges may say that this was far better than Constantia deserved, for marrying after six weeks' acquaintance. We can only reply that there are some people who are their own letters of recommendation so unmistakeably, that even in this wicked world it is impossible to doubt them.

Still, we are far from desiring to establish a precedent.

SINECURES;

OR A COUNTRY MINISTER'S DAY.

THE REVEREND SYDNEY SMITH makes himself exceedingly merry with the claims which he declares to be habitual among the clergy of his country, to the character of persecuted saints-members of the church militant-called to suffer for the faith. He says such expressions had always been very puzzling to him, until he recollected that no fewer than eight hundred clergymen of the Church of England, had, within a few years, been prosecuted for non-residence. So that the interpretation seemed to be that the reverend gentlemen had made a slight mistake between being persecuted for doing their duty, and being prosecuted for not doing it.

This spark from the anvil of the doughty old Smith, who has given such trip-hammer blows to our sins of repudiation, brought to mind a story which was told in my hearing once, by a friend who remembers everything that has been said and done in New England since Miles Standish's time—an old friend of course. Not a name—not a date-not a place of residence-not a family connection-no root or branch of tree genealogical, is ever wanting in these narratives. And, what is singular, even that rare ingredient,

truth, the desideratum in a reminisence, is always present to give zest to the whole, so that one need never to be afraid to give, suo periculo, any of Miss -'s stories, even in presence of an ecclesiastical court.

The little story I am about to tell is at fourth-hand, yet none the less worthy of credence. It refers to the only sinecure known to New England, and I shall take leave to call it

A COUNTRY MINISTER'S DAY.

'his

9

'When my brother E. was a little boy,' said Miss health was delicate, and he was sent into the country to school, and there boarded at a great old farm-house-one in the real old New England style, of which few specimens now remain. Here, in the first cold weather of autumn, the family congregated about the kitchen fire, so as not to disturb the flower-pots which still ornamented the hearth of the keeping-room. The young student from Boston was accommodated, on one side of the fire, with a little stand, on which was placed a tall iron candlestick, bearing a dipt candle with a wick an inch long, for the furtherance of his studies. Not being much inspired by the book under these circumstances, E. was wont to spend at least a part of his time in listening to the talk of an ancient dame who sat, with a perennial fountain of knitting-work, in a high-backed chair on the opposite side of the fire, bestowing various hints and cautions upon a young clergyman lately ordained, and hoping he would be "kerried through" all the work that was before him in the ministry of that parish.

"The young clergyman, city-bred, and only a guest at the farmhouse, listened with deference, and replied very satisfactorily to most of the old lady's remarks; but he could not be made to understand very clearly in what particulars he was likely to find his

position more than usually difficult. He did not seem to doubt that he should be "kerried through," though he said so very modestly.

"Humph!" said the old lady, taking a spare knitting-needle from her work, and passing it gently under her cap with a reflective air, "did you ever hear about parson Thacher's day, Mr. Z———— ? My mother could remember Parson Thacher, though he died in 1727. He was a man that had been to school, and then to college in this country; and that wasn't enough, but he must be sent to the old country (it was the custom in them days); yes, to Leyden, where he studied for the ministry, and not only that, but learned medicine and surgery, and not content with that, studied law besides."

Mr. Z began to open his eyes at this enumeration of his predecessor's accomplishments.

"Yes," continued the good lady, "and besides, he was a good mechanic, so that he could use almost any tool. Well, he came back, and settled in this town, and married Theodosia F., and she made him a good wife, and they lived very comfortably in their plain way."

"But," said the young clergyman, who, being fresh from college, was the least in the world priggish, "I can scarcely see how Mr. Thacher's European acquirements were necessary to fit him for such a position."

"Humph!" said the old lady again. "Stay till I tell you my story. One Monday morning, Parson Thacher said to his wife, 'I've engaged to go to D to preach an ordination sermon on Wednesday, and I must set out to-morrow; so this day I must have entirely for my study, and you must not allow me to be interrupted for anything short of a case of life or death.'" So Mrs.

Thacher promised, and the good parson went thoughtfully up stairs to prepare his sermon. He was scarcely seated when a woman of the neighbourhood came in, almost breathless, anxiously inquiring for Mr. Thacher.

"He is in his study, and cannot be disturbed on any account.'

เแ "Oh, dear!' says the poor woman; 'I don't know what I shall do, then, for our best cow's very sick, and nobody can't do nothing to help her. We've had Loren, the cow-doctor, and he can't tell what's the matter with her. What will become of us if we lose her? Now Mrs. Thacher felt so bad to think the woman must lose her cow, that she even ventured up stairs, and knocked at her husband's door.

"Wife, you know I told you I couldn't—'

"Yes; but poor Mrs. Trimbley-' and then she told all about the cow, and tried to persuade the parson to go at once. This, he said, was out of the question; but he would certainly call after dinner, as he was obliged to pass by Mr. Trimbley's to go to a raising, where he had promised to make a prayer. So the poor woman went home, very much comforted to think that Parson Thacher would come at all, so great was her opinion of his skill. She had hardly shut the gate, when another neighbour came in, as flurried and out of breath as Mrs. Trimbley, hardly remembering to say, 'How d'ye do?' before she cried out, Where is Mr. Thacher?"

6666 My husband 's in his study, and cannot be—'

"Oh, run up, do, Mrs. Thacher, and tell him that Mr. Vose and Mr. Hunt have had an awful quarrel again, and Mr. Vose says he'll go right off to Boston and employ lawyer Gridley (a pretty awful threat in those days), for he won't put up with ill usage any longer.'