so large, and then there will be no danger 
of spoiling Mrs. Smith’s nice carpets with 
the supper.” 
“Nice carpets!” ejaculated Aunt Eunice, 
snapping her bright, black eyes, and rock¬ 
ing back and forth, so swiftly that the lit¬ 
tle easy chair fairly squeaked with sur¬ 
prise. “Nice carpets! Do you s’pose if I 
was a minister's wife (tho’ I hope an’ pray 
I never shall be,) I’d think ’twas any trou¬ 
ble to hev some decent folks eatin’ in my 
settin’-room, pervided they’d pay met a 
hundred dollars or so fur it ? I tell you a 
tarvern aint no place for your children nor 
mine (tho’ I haint got any, thank the Lord!) 
to go to. It’s like drivin’ lambs inter a den 
of wolves.” 
“But,” said Mrs. Grey, very soothingly, 
“I understand that the bar is going to be 
closed so that there will be nothing to 
tempt the young people.” 
“Oh, yes, I know old Miller has promised 
he won’t sell any liquor, but I wouldn’t 
give a snappin’-turtle for his word. He 
won’t refuse nobody’s money, I tell ye. 
And then, there’s that Kate of liis’n. She 
thinks she’s so bewitchin’, I warrant you 
she’ll do her best to conduce the young 
men to drink, even to the minister’s son, 
and that would be orful shockin’, for Fred 
Smith is the smartest feller in this town. 
Don’t you know he radiated through col¬ 
lege and got his diplomatics ?” And the 
curious old lady cast a knowing glance at 
Annie, who, in rather an anxious manner, 
replied: 
“I hope no harm will come of it, but I 
really wish they would not have it there. 
Why couldn’t we let it come here, mother ?” 
“Why, Annie !” exclaimed Mrs. Grey, 
“are you crazy? Do you think I’ll subject 
my nice carpets and lovely furniture to 
such usage ? There will be all sorts of peo¬ 
ple there. If it was only for a refined, 
select party it would be a different thing.'’ 
Aunt Eunice smoothed down her apron, 
put on her hood, and, giving a few rocks to 
the little squeaky chair, said: “Well, they 
had better give what they want to and all 
stay to hum, for you mark my word for it, 
no good will come of it; them deacons, 
too, a helpin’ on it along, I should think 
they'd fell from grace, anyhow.” And the 
old lady, after hurriedly inviting the ladies 
to return her visit, bade them a pleasant 
good evening. 
For a few moments longer Mrs. Grey and 
her daughter continued the conversation, 
and then bidding each other a fond good 
night, sought their rooms for repose; the 
one soon sank into a quiet slumber, but 
the excited manner and plain remarks of 
Aunt Eunice, so disturbed the usually 
tranquil mind of Annie, that some time 
elapsed before she could compose her mind 
to sleep. 
Chapter II. 
It was indeed a large crowd that as¬ 
sembled at the rooms of Mr. Miller on the 
night of the donation. Gallant gentlemen, 
young and old, gaily dressed ladies, fair 
and beautiful, also those of more matronly 
appearance, seemed, as they passed the 
fleeting hours away, in pleasant chat and 
lively song, to be enjoying themselves to 
their heart’s content. Deacon Brown and 
our old friend Aunt Eunice are seated very 
cozily in one corner, noting all that trans¬ 
pires around them, at the same time carry¬ 
ing on a little private conversation of their 
own. “Well, Miss Price,” quietly remark¬ 
ed the deacon, who, by the way, had a 
peculiar habit of introducing an “ahem” at 
the close of about every other sentence. 
“Our party has passed off very civilly— 
ahem. I heard that some folks was afraid 
it wasn’t a very good plan to have it here— 
ahem.” “Yes,” said Aunt Eunice very 
demurely, “I was very much exposed to it 
myself, Mr. Brown. I hope, however, that 
no rueful effects will promulge from it.” 
And so they continue in converse, very 
sweet, perhaps, to them, but of little inter¬ 
est to our readers. At a little distance 
froui them, sitting quietly by herself, is 
Annie Grey. She seems interested in ob¬ 
serving the lively company around her, 
yet she is silent and thoughtful. She leans 
her elbow on a table and rests her head in 
her hand, and an expression of sadness 
settles on her lovely face. 
A young man approaches her. It is Fred 
Smith, the minister’s son, a fine-looking, 
intelligent, gentlemanly fellow, who, as 
