CHAPTER XXIII.

"Is it true, think you?"

"Very true. Why should I carry lies abroad ?"

MR. VERNON'S second installation is over, and his family settled, as far as may be at present, in the parsonage. Let us look a little into his pecuniary affairs, and see how they stand at this era in his history. It is nearly three years since he purchased his house in Salem. He has been able, as he expected, to pay the interest on his borrowed money, and reduce the principal a hundred dollars yearly. But he is disappointed now in not finding a purchaser. The Society will not take it as a parsonage, till they settle another minister, and this they seem not likely to do in a hurry. There is no opportunity to rent it at present. So it stands solitary, and the door-key hangs over Mr. Cook's kitchen mantle-sad reminder there, calling forth many a burst of homely eloquence in pathetic lamentation.

Black Pompey has gone with his master to Millville; a noble animal, truly, and a noble price it will cost to keep him there, as his owner will find, when he gets his eyes open.

The expense of the transfer of household stuff has somewhat overrun previous calculation. Several new pieces of furniture have been purchased, and the well-filled purse, which was to be responsible for the living of the first quarter, is (to begin with) nearly empty. But Mr. Vernon anticipates no serious trouble; he can borrow, or live on credit awhile; his salary must be ample enough to cancel all his obligations at the year's end. He was sorry, on the whole, that he had not insisted on a quarterly or semi-annual payment. He did mention it as

desirable; but the reply was, "It is not best to bring up the thing in form before the Society; there will be no difficulty about it. Call on our treasurer for money, whenever you want it." It did not occur to him that he might call on an empty treasury.

Not many hours after he entered the parsonage, Mr. Moulton appeared, with his smiling face and smooth address. His wife had sent a basket of provisions, and he called to say that he had a good assortment of groceries at the brick store, and would be happy to open an account with Mr. Vernon; and, as the latter bowed, and said he should need articles in that line, and would remember it. Mr. M., in the most natural way, took a pencil and card from his pocket, adding, "You have a good many steps to take, sir,-just give me a list of what you want, and I will step round to the store, put them up, and send my man over with them." He then proceeded to enumerate, "tea, sugar, coffee," Mr. Vernon assenting (all the while, unpacking a box of goods), till it occurred to him that the list was swelling, and he said, abruptly, "Nothing more, Mr. Moulton; what you have will make something of a bill." The merchant bowed in his most gentlemanly way, and responded, "Give yourself no trouble about that; our firm (Moulton & Son) is one of the largest supporters. Let the account run through the year, and we will make a set-off. Anything you want in our line we shall be happy to furnish you."

A little after, the corpulent Mr. Elton came puffing in, on the same errand, and, learning what had taken place, said, good-humouredly, “You must divide your patronage among

us, Mr. Vernon."

In the course of the same day, the thin, sharp visage of Mr. Walter (proprietor of the cotton mill), was seen peering round the parsonage. He was a man of few compliments,

who looked, with eagle eye, at any chance of gain. He coolly asked the cost of every new article he saw; said he kept some "furnishing goods" at his warehouse,--among other things, a lot of cooking-stoves, and materials for upholstery; and he added, significantly, "I suppose you will give the preference, in trade, to your own people."

"A new state of things this, to me," said Edward, thoughtfully; as, before the week was through, he received offers of hay, wood, butter, lard, and vegetables; in which cases, when he spoke of payment, the reply invariably was, "We shall be owing the Society; if you will give us an order we would like to turn it." No matter if his purse were low; what need of ready money in so obliging a community?

A letter of Mrs. Vernon's, at this time, admits us to her first impressions of the place and people.

"MY DEAR FATHER,—

"I know you must have waited anxiously for something more from us than the hurried note, informing you of our safe arrival. Days since then have come and gone, and I have not found myself adequate to all the demands upon my time and strength. It is well you decided for me that I should not come till after the installation; the excitement now is more would judge altogether best for me.

than you

"Our house-keeping arrangements have been greatly retarded. The parsonage, during the ten months' interregnum, was rented to a family not over-nice in their habits. They left only a fortnight before our arrival; then the house was to be purified, some painting and papering done, and outside blinds put up. Three days before we came they commenced operations, and a tedious business they make of it. The paint in the parlours was too fresh to allow us to furnish; the paper in the back parlour did not hold out, and nothing could be

done there till they could send to the city for more. The protracted process of putting on the blinds added to the confusion. We had to make ourselves comfortable in the kitchen, and unpack our goods slowly as places were ready for them. The scene was varied by frequent calls from the people, evidently curious to get an idea of the minister's family; besides two or three invitations to tea, at gatherings made specially for us, which we declined as unseasonable, thereby incurring, I fear, the displeasure of one aristocratic lady. I summoned Patience to my side, and walked with her, feeling, however, that something must be lacking in the parish, or the place would have been ready for our reception. Nor was I at all consoled by the remark, that fell from the lips of more than one who called, 'This is always the way of things in Millville.'

Sunday, I went out to one service; but I should not dare write you all I felt on the occasion. The congregation had a fashionable air, and were quite attentive. There was on every hand a brusque air of expectation, as if they had come to be entertained, rather than profited. They evidently admired the preacher, and were interested in the preachment; but I missed, -O, how sadly!--the spiritual atmosphere of our Sabbath assemblies at Salem. I may misjudge; but no,-this is a thing not to be observed, but felt; the heart detects it unerringly. I have not been home sick, except in church. There my heart ached, and it was only by isolating my thoughts from the scene, and fleeing as a bird to her mountain, that I found peace.

"You will expect to hear my first impressions of this goodly village. Let me tell you, then, of two or three things that struck me at once.

"One was, a sense of imprisonment; shut in, environed round with hills, we seem to be down in the depths,--not exactly in the valley of humiliation,' but low enough for

that. I felt at first as if I could breathe freer up on the heights.

"Another thing was, that people live faster here than in any place I have known. Everything moves with speed; everybody is in a hurry. The nights are short. The musical bell of the cotton-mill falls on our drowsy ear at daybreak; then rings out the ponderous stroke of the foundry, and the others follow in quick succession. The streets presently swarm with the operatives hurrying to their toil,-men and women, youths and children. Six times a-day this throng sweeps back and forth. So much noise and bustle is strangely disagreeable; though I must confess to an impulse from the life and enterprise around me. Even this poor quill must have been 'grown' hereabouts, for it dashes on at a pace which sorely tires the hand that holds it.

"Little Abby, as grandpa' predicted, behaves finely among strangers. It is well she is not a child to be easily spoiled by flattery. I foresee her dear papa will wish he had more of the same humility and simplicity. The people shower him with compliments, the tone of which I do not relish. He says it is not delicate enough to hurt him. It seems to me that they praise him, as they do their wares, because he is theirs. It is our Mr. Vernon,' and 'our minister.' I fear the majority think more of his building them up in reputation and numbers than in the graces of the Spirit. But I must not talk in this way; they are our people, and I mean to love them.

6

"In the matter of 'help,' I fear we have not done wisely. The woman is an eeperienced housekeeper, but she is acquainted with everybody here, and makes more gossip about my domestic affairs than I could wish.

"We have just received a precious letter from brother William, which I will enclose. It was directed to us at