her purpose not to enter the parsonage through the kitchendoor; from which it was inferred, that the trouble had to do with the "domestic." And, above all others, came the remark of Mrs. Lewis, that, she "would n't have thought the minister's wife was such a child."

What could all this mean?

Miss Leevy took it upon herself to ferret out and hunt down the scandal; and, pursuing it to "the death," it was found to be simply this:-Mrs. Lewis's dressmaker went over to the parsonage to look at Mrs. Vernon's cloak. Passing in, through the kitchen to the back-parlour, she surprised the young wife sitting on the carpet playing with a pet kitten. Mirabile dictu!

For a more particular account of Mary's relations to the people, at this period of her history, we must refer to her own pen.

"PARSONAGE, SALEM, Feb., 183–.

"MY OWN DEAR PAPA,—

"How I wish I might exchange pen and paper for a seat by your side, in the dear library, and a two-hours' talk, with my hand in yours, and my head on your arm, as in days gone by! I have so much to say, that the very thought of slipping it all off the point of my pen, is a weariness. But, I ought to be thankful for even this resort, and would not waste further words, if I only knew where to begin.

"I cannot tell you all my gratitude for your good, kind letters. The last was just what I needed;—the advice so considerate; the sympathy so precious. Even the commendation was timely. We are not always in a fit mood to receive the latter safely; yet, at that time, I was self-distrusting, and needed a little lifting up. And I feel a security in taking praise from your lips, dear father, that I never do from others.

"In your hint upon the wisdom of confiding everything to

my husband, I understand all you would say; and my practice, I trust, accords with it. I have conferred with him on every point I have mentioned to you, and with much benefit. But then, dear father, he has not the advantage of your experience, or your position as one of the people; and, where I am concerned, he is, I fear, too lenient and partial.

"You will rejoice to know that I am getting somewhat into the affection and confidence of our people. I believe some of them, at first, were jealous of me, for Mr. Vernon's sake; at least, I give them credit for this feeling, and it makes me quite tolerant of their criticisms. One woman loves her minister so well she is afraid he has not so good a wife as he deserves. Another fears his house will not be kept with the nicest regard to his comfort. A third inspects his person, with careful eye, and thinks it 'too bad' if his linen is not as smooth and white as it used to be under the hand of a skilful laundress. A fourth shakes her head, as she sees us taking a ride or walk, and fears that, what with writing sermons, and doing parish duty, and waiting so much upon his wife, he'll break down before long.' But, as it is all out of pure love to their minister, how can I complain? Some persons take the liberty to enlighten me on the subject of his preferences in regard to table fare; and so many favourite dishes have been named that I am led to believe he must have a most accommodating palate.

6

"There are some strictures passed, however, which have no reference to his comfort. When brother William was here, he and I took some nice sleigh-rides together, and I enjoyed it much. I was not aware of indulging an excess of spirits; but some young ladies were quite disturbed, and reported that I was very gay, and that, as I left the house, equipped for a ride, my laugh might be heard across the street. This reminds me of something else, of a very different nature, that troubles me. “Did you ever think, dear papa, that I have an unusually

quick perception of the ludicrous? I never met so much to call it out as since I have been a minister's wife. It really gives me trouble ;--sometimes distresses me greatly.

"Last Sabbath Edward exchanged with Father Smith, a man who stoops very much, though not from age, and whose nasal organ is very prominent. As he wished to go home, after the third service, he rode his horse over to the conferenceroom. He was moving slowly along, half bent, and I was walking, at a little distance, with that solemn-faced Mr. Fenton, when a pert young miss, before me, said to her companion, quite gravely, ' Mr. Smith's nose will get to meeting some time before he does.' I laughed, involuntarily, and looked towards Mr. F.; but his face did not relent in the least. The roguish girls, however, saw that my gravity was disturbed, and they took advantage of it to keep up their sport,-looking over their shoulder, occasionally, at me, then at the unconscious subject of their mirth, with deprecating glances at Mr. Fenton, who frowned upon them with his sourest visage. I don't know what he thought of me.

"I regretted this the more, as only a few days previously I lost my self-possession from a similar cause. It was before the weekly church prayer-meeting. Several persons had called, and, among others, a poor man, in failing health, who wished to ask assistance from his brethren. He had a subscription paper, drawn up by a friend of more literary pretensions than himself, which he handed to Mr. Vernon, with the request that he would present it to the church, and have it circulated after meeting. Edward read it, and passed it to me. I took it unsuspectingly, though I thought there was a curious twinkle in his eye. It was a singular document. I began to read, but coming to a statement that the applicant had 'always been a very disenabled-bodied man,' I could get no further. Rising,, suddenly, to conceal my risibility, I met

Edward's eye (was he not wicked?), and failed to recover my self-possession till I had attracted the notice of all present, except the poor man himself, who sat with an expression of complacent ruefulness, of itself quite ludicrous.

"Since I am upon this topic, I may as well tell you what happened at a wedding, not long ago, though you will think me a foolish child; and, indeed, I am.

His name

"The bridegroom was from an adjoining town. was Hart. He had with him two sisters, a brother, and a cousin of the same name. In offering the invocation, Edward prayed for a blessing on these hearts' [Harts], which struck me so ludicrously that I lost the rest of the prayer, in my remorseful feelings, at this intrusion upon the spirit of devotion. I cannot think of it without self-reproaches; neither can I with. out a smile. What shall I do?

"This letter was interrupted, last evening, by a call from Dr. Alden. He came, as he often does, to hear me play and sing; but I declined, this time, for fear of disturbing Mr. Vernon, who is very busy, this week, upon his sermon. He has taken quite an impulse in his studies, since New-Year's. The doctor alluded to it, in his facetious way. The congregation

seems unusually attentive.

"It is time that this long letter drew to a conclusion. Tell sister Harriet (with our best regards), we see no prospect of being able to relinquish Ann at present.

"What a cheerful rain we have had to-day!—not falling reluctantly, but in a succession of hearty showers. I have been just in the mood to sympathize with it. It has rained so easily, so spontaneously, so freely, as if it couldn't help it, and would not, if it could. I have watched the showers, and thought, 'like this should be our charities, given with the same spontaneity and gladness.'

"Edward has come from the study, and, looking over my

shoulder, quite disconcerts me with the exclamation, 'Capital illustration that! See if I do not use it in my next missionary sermon.' What can I add, after this, except our

united love?

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Affectionally and dutifully,

MARY."

CHAPTER XV.

"They joy before thee according to the joy in harvest."

THE winter months sped rapidly by, and the opening spring witnessed an unusual seriousness in the Sabbath audiences at Salem. Soon one and another inquiring soul sought the pastor's study, for religious counsel and sympathy. His words dropped as the rain, and his speech distilled as the dew.

The merciful visitation of the previous year had shaken the whole field, and gathered many souls into the garner of Christ. This was as the gleanings after harvest. The subjects were not numerous, but scattered, here and there, over the whole parish. Their treatment, too, required an unusual amount of time and skill. They were mostly persons who had been long thoughtful on the concerns of the soul, or who had, at a former period of awakening, voluntarily suppressed solicitude, and banished thought. Frequent personal interviews were the principal kind of labour needed; but some prominent individuals thought there should be an extra sermon or two a week, in such an interesting state of things. To meet both, made large demands upon the minister, especially as he had now his own domestic cares.

At the close of the first week, Mary knew he had not had twenty-four hours to bestow upon his pulpit preparation, and she asked him, anxiously, what he could do for the morrow. He replied, cheerfully," he had no fear but what he could