tleman, he controlled himself, and said quietly these words, that, too, have a deep import,—

"I see you have."

He then shook hands with me, and I with him. I, too, am a perfect lady. And then he drawed up a chair for me with his own hands (hands that grip holt of the same hellum that G. W. had gripped holt of. O soul! be calm when I think on't), and asked me to set down; and consequently I sot.

I leaned my umberell in a easy, careless position against a adjacent chair, adjusted my long green veil in long, graceful folds,-I hain't vain, but I like to look well,—and then I at once told him of my errents. I told him—

"I had brought three errents to him from Jonesville,— one for myself, and two for Dorlesky Burpy."

He bowed, but didn't say nothin': he looked tired. Josiah always looks tired in the mornin' when he has got his milkin' and barn-chores done, so it didn't surprise me. And havin' calculated to tackle him on my own errent first, consequently I tackled him.

I told him how deep my love and devotion to my pardner wuz.

And he said "he had heard of it."

And I says, "I s'pose so. I s'pose such things will spread, bein' a sort of a rarity. I'd heard that it had got out, 'way beyend Loontown, and all round."

"Yes," he said, "it was spoke of a good deal."

Wall," says I, "the cast-iron love and devotion I feel for that man don't show off the brightest in hours of joy and peace. It towers up strongest in dangers and troubles." And then I went on to tell him how Josiah wanted to come there as senator, and what a dangerous place I had always heard Washington wuz, and how I had felt it was impossible for me to lay down on my goose

feather pillow at home, in peace and safety, while my pardner was a-grapplin' with dangers of which I did not know the exact size and heft. And so I had made up my mind to come ahead of him, as a forerunner on a tower, to see jest what the dangers wuz, and see if I dast trust my companion there. "And now," says I, "I want you to tell me candid," says I. "Your settin' in George Washington's high chair makes me look up to you. It is a sightly place; you can see fur; your name bein' Allen makes me feel sort o' confidential and good towards you, and I want you to talk real honest and candid with me." Says I, solemnly, "I ask you, Allen, not as a politician, but as a human bein', would you dast to let Josiah come?"

Says he, "The danger to the man and the nation depends a good deal on what sort of a man it is that comes."

Then was a tryin' time for me. I would not lie, neither would I brook one word against my companion, even from myself. So I says,

"He is a man that has traits and qualities, and sights of 'em."

But, thinkin' that I must do so, if I got true information of dangers, I went on, and told of Josiah's political aims, which I considered dangerous to himself and the nation. And I told him of The Plan, and my dark forebodin's about it.

The President didn't act surprised a mite. And finally he told me, what I had always mistrusted, but never knew, that Josiah had wrote to him all his political views and aspirations, and offered his help to the government. And says he, "I think I know all about the man."

"Then," says I, "you see he is a good deal like other men."

And he said, sort o' dreamily, "that he was."

And then again silence rained. He was a-thinkin', I knew, on all the deep dangers that hedged in Josiah Allen and America if he come.

And a-musin' on all the proba

ble dangers of the Plan. And a-thinkin' it over how to do jest right in the matter,-right by Josiah, right by the nation, right by me.

Finally the suspense of the moment wore onto me too deep to bear, and I says, in almost harrowin' tones of anxiety and suspense,―

"Would it be safe for my pardner to come to Washington? Would it be safe for Josiah, safe for the nation?" Says I, in deeper, mournfuller tones,

"Would you would you dast to let him come?”

He said, sort o' dreamily, "that those views and aspirations of Josiah's wasn't really needed at Washington, they had plenty of them there; and-"

But I says, "I must have a plainer answer to ease my mind and heart. Do tell me plain,-would you dast?"

He looked full at me. He has got good, honest-looking eyes, and a sensible, candid look onto him. He liked me, -I knew he did from his looks,-a calm, Methodist-Episcopal likin',-nothin' light.

And I see in them eyes that he didn't like Josiah's political idees. I see that he was afraid, as afraid as death, of that plan; and I see that he considered Washington as a dangerous, dangerous place for grangers and Josiah Allens to be a-roamin' round in. I could see that he dreaded the sufferin's for me and for the nation if the Hon. Josiah Allen was elected.

But still he seemed to hate to speak; and wise, cautious conservatism, and gentlemanly dignity, was wrote down. on his linement. Even the red rose-bud in his buttonhole looked dretful good-natured, but close-mouthed.

I don't know as he would have spoke at all agin, if I

hadn't uttered once more them soul-harrowin' words,

"Would you dast?"

Pity and good feelin' then seemed to overpower for a moment the statesman and courteous diplomat.

And he said, in gentle, gracious tones, "If I tell you just what I think, I would not like to say it officially, but would say it in confidence, as from an Allen to an Allen." Says I, "It sha'n't go no further."

And so I would warn everybody that it must not be told.

Then says he, "I will tell you. I wouldn't dast."

Says I, "That settles it. If human efforts can avail, Josiah Allen will not be United States Senator." And says I, "You have only confirmed my fears. I knew, feelin' as he felt, that it wuzn't safe for Josiah or the nation to have him come."

Agin he reminded me that it was told to me in confidence, and agin I want to say that it must be kep'.

DEACON QUIRK'S OPINIONS.

E. S. PHELPS.

[Among the many original and highly-interesting stories of Elizabeth Stuart Phelps, "The Gates Ajar," from which our selection is taken, has attained the highest popularity, from its original method of dealing with a question of absorbing importance. The long-entertained idea of the conditions of life in heaven has grown to appear sadly lacking in the elements of probability, and for years has failed to appeal to the judgment of thinkers. Yet Miss Phelps was the first to attack it strongly in a work adapted to popular reading, and to put upon record a more probable view of the heavenly conditions and occupations. The avidity with which the work has been read-it

having reached a sale of nearly fifty thousand-shows that it appealed to a wide-spread secret sentiment and struck the key-note of a new range of views concerning celestial happiness. Her other works, "The Story of Avis," "Men, Women, and Ghosts," etc., are equally original and attractive in style. Miss Phelps was born in Boston in 1844. Her mother, of the same name, was the author of "Sunnyside," "A Peep at Number Five," and other works, once widely popular.]

AUNT WINIFRED has been hunting up a Sunday-school class for herself and one for me; which is a venture that I never was persuaded into undertaking before. She her self is fast becoming acquainted with the poorer people of the town.

I find that she is a thoroughly busy Christian, with a certain "week-day holiness" that is strong and refreshing, like a west wind. Church-going, and conversations on heaven, by no means exhaust her vitality.

She told me a pretty thing about her class: it happened the first Sabbath that she took it. Her scholars are young girls of from fourteen to eighteen years of age, children of church-members, most of them. She seemed to have taken their hearts by storm. She says, "They treated me very prettily, and made me love them at once."

Clo Bentley is in the class; Clo is a pretty, soft-eyed little creature, with a shrinking mouth, and an absorbing passion for music, which she has always been too poor to gratify. I suspect that her teacher will make a pet of her. She says that in the course of her lesson, or, in her words,―

"While we were all talking together, somebody pulled my sleeve, and there was Clo in the corner, with her great brown eyes fixed on me. 'See here!' she said, in a whisper, 'I can't be good! I would be good if I could only just have a piano.'

666

'Well, Clo,' I said, 'if you will be a good girl, and go