He had many questions to ask of her first afternoon alone, and she had much to answer.

She had written a letter home, which was left unsealed for him to add a line; and she watched his varying features while he read, now with a smile, some playful passage, and now, with graver mien, some expression of earnest desire to do good, or of inward perplexity in her new vocation, which, with her wonted freedom, she had confided to her only parent.

Then the miscellany-theological and literary-which she had been reading, came in for a share of attention. Some passages she had faintly marked with her pencil, that she might recall them for discussion with him. And this was not the first time he was surprised at the pertinence of her criticisms, and the vigour of her thoughts, on those abstruse themes on which he had been wont to read and meditate alone. She smiled as he said, with emphasis, "Two are better than one."

And now followed lighter discourse, as Mary's fancy took an excursion to her childhood's home, and she pictured the group around that other fireside, more familiar than her own. Very pleasantly passed the evening, till nine o'clock brought the hour of prayer.

66

Truly," thought Edward, "this is better than my poor bachelor room at Mr. Cook's." An instant after, a whispering thought questioned, "Where are the sermons for the Sabbath just at hand?"—and a faint echo answered, "Where?"

Edward and Mary felt but just settled in their new abode. The three weeks since their entrance had flown rapidly by, though on heavy-laden wings.

Their house was in prime order, Miss Allison doing nothing "by halves." But it had troubled her greatly, that she could find no means to induct her young sister into the science of house-keeping, especially that department which provided for

the table. Time, in those days, was too precious to spend in experimenting. Then, she had so little confidence in Mary's capability; and, to increase the difficulty, "Thanksgiving," that notable state festival, was just at hand, demanding the highest culinary skill.

Very pleasant was it, truly, to have so experienced a manager at the domestic helm; and Edward insisted there was time enough hereafter for Mary's season of apprenticeship; and sister Harriet soon settled it, in her mind, that she never would learn, till left alone to depend on her own resources.

The family gathering at "the feast" was delightful. The doctor and William arrived the night before, and a joyous occasion they made of it.

Edward had but a day and a night to bestow on his sermon ; but he did not labour in vain. He had, indeed, no nicely-spun logic in favour of “ conservatism," or burning rhetoric in behalf of "agitation." agitation." He entered into no elaborate analysis of the great national compact, nor made an effort to solve the oft-mooted question, whether a certain form of evil is sin "per se." He broached no new philosophical theories, nor denounced the innovations of liberal thinkers in theology. Yet his discourse was by no means tame. His own heart was alive to the divine goodness. And when he named the passage, "All my springs are in thee," and, in the exuberance of his own joy and gratitude, led an excursion up many a stream which, for a twelvemonth, had been flowing in with blessing, -tracing each by a different channel to the same fountainhead-not an auditor was weary; and wherever devout affection burned, it was kindled to a brighter flame.

The good people of Salem were wont to "send portions to them for whom nothing was provided." Yet it was a new pleasure to have a minister's family on whom to shower their benefactions; and the gifts were neither few nor small.

It was a bountiful table round which the happy circle at the parsonage discussed the excellence of the viands, and the generosity of the people, and the mercies, providential and spiritual, which made their cup to overflow.

There was some drawback to Mary's enjoyment, in the oft-recurring thought that she was to lose sister Harriet on the morrow. That worthy lady had a plan which she had not divulged. Many a time, the last few days, she had asked Mary, "What will do, you child, when I am gone?"poor and though the reply was always a hopeful one, it did not seem to settle the question.

-

True, Mr. Vernon had offered, as a matter of course, to provide domestic help; but his young wife declined, till she should have put her own hand to the business, and thus become able to guide others in the affairs of her house. She would consent to hire a day's labour weekly; but beyond this she chose to put herself to the work, till she acquired skill by experience.

Sister Harriet had not been at the parsonage many days, before she was convinced that this plan was, at present, impracticable. The difficulty was, to get time to do all that was requisite, even in a family of only two members.

There was

so many calls, and so many invitations, and such projects hinted at, whose shadows were already visible, it was plain the new minister's wife was to be put thoroughly in requisition.

"If father is willing," thought the kind-hearted sister, "Ann shall come down when I leave, and stay awhile, till Mary gets through making acquaintance among the people. Father was willing, and so the secret was announced, much to the satisfaction of all parties.

The doctor could not be persuaded to prolong his visit another day. Two nights in succession was a longer absence

F

than he often ventured; and he always had extra calls for a week after Thanksgiving.

And was not Mary very lonely after their departure? Edward had an exchange of pulpit services for the next Sabbath, and so chose to consider himself quite at leisure. It was very pleasant to be alone with him. There was no painful solitude in the parsonage yet.

The following Tuesday called him to assist at an ordination, which would keep him from home over night. With Mary's consent, he asked Olivia Cook to stay with her during his absence.

Miss Leevy's growing familiarity at the parsonage surprised and puzzled the gossips of the parish. That she should feel so much at her ease there was a matter of surprise to herself. When she received the first message, through Mrs. Ely, she resolved, from a sense of duty, to go, expecting to have an awkward and embarrassed time of it. But not so was poor Leevy's night of penitence, and conflict, and noble resolve, to be rewarded. Her minister, if he knew her weakness, was too generous to seem aware of it, and too nice in his adaptation of himself to circumstances to fail in the present instance. Miss Olivia was received with such a mixture of cordiality and respect, both by himself and wife, as soothed her spirit, while it freed her from all constraint and embarrassment.

Instead of a day, she stayed a whole week, making herself very useful, even in the estimation of Miss Allison. She seemed to drop at once into a niche ready-made, which she felt might properly belong to her, and was quite agreeable. Admitted to the generous confidence of the family, and treated like a tried friend, she never gave them occasion for regret; while slanderous tongues were silenced, because they knew not what to say.

After those two days alone with Mary, Leevy told her aunt

that people would find the minister's wife, though young, was not a child. She had a mind of her own; and, though unassuming, and willing to listen to the opinion of others, her own judgment seemed to be formed on almost everything connected with her relations to the people.

This long piece of road, which we went back to travel, brings us up again to the snowy day with which our chapter opens; and the next day, as Mary prophesied, the fine sleighing brought an arrival from Mayfield. It was Dick and the de

lighted Ann, with a package of letters and of love, to say nothing of other packages quite substantial.

Now there will be some one in the kitchen, and we shall hear of the minister's wife out among the people.

CHAPTER X.

"[She] knows

Herself the mark of scrutinizing eyes,

And curious observations. Apt remarks
Are ventured, subtle questions asked, to prove
And fathom [her] opinions."

"WHAT'S the use," said Aunt Deborah, "of having a minister's wife, if she will not go ahead in all kinds of benevolent effort?"

"Sure enough," thought Mrs. Pritchard; " and it is time. we knew whether our pastor's wife is good for anything in this line. I will find out."

It was the middle of the morning, and Mary's hands were in her pastry, when she heard sleigh-bells at the gate, and, sending Ann to the door, hastily washed off the flour, and laid aside her kitchen apron, preparatory to a call.

Mrs. Pritchard swept into the back parlour with a businesslike air. (Mary had seen her before, and she was not a woman