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to her and asked her about everything, and it was amazin' how everything she put her hand to prospered. Huldy planted marigolds and larkspurs, pinks and carnations, all up and down the path to the front door, and trained up mornin' glories and scarlet runners round the windows. And she was always gettin' a root here, and a sprig there, and a seed from somebody else: for Huldy was one o' them that has the gift, so that ef you jist give 'em the leastest sprig of anything they make a great bush out of it right away; so that in six months Huldy had roses and geraniums and lilies, sich as it would a took a gardener to raise.

"Huldy was so sort o' chipper and fair spoken, that she got the hired men all under her thumb: they come to her and took her orders jist as meek as so many calves; and she traded at the store, and kep' the accounts, and she hed her eyes everywhere, and tied up all the ends so tight that there wa'n't no gettin' 'round her. She wouldn't let nobody put nothin' off on Parson Carryl 'cause he was a minister. Huldy was allers up to anybody that wanted to make a hard bargain; and, afore he knew jist what he was about, she'd got the best end of it, and everybody said that Huldy was the most capable girl they ever traded with.

"Wal, come to the meetin' of the Association, Mis' Deakin Blodgett and Mis' Pipperidge come callin' up to the parson's all in a stew, and offerin' their services to get the house ready; but the doctor, he jist thanked 'em quite quiet, and turned 'em over to Huldy; and Huldy she told 'em that she'd got everything ready, and showed 'em her pantries, and her cakes, and her pies, and her puddin's, and took 'em all over the house; and they went peekin' and pokin', openin' cupboard-doors, and lookin' into drawers; and they couldn't find so much as a thread out o' the way, from garret to cellar, and so they went off quite discontented. Arter that the women set a new trouble a brewin'. They begun to talk that it was a year now since Mis' Carryl died; and it r'ally wasn't proper such a young gal to be staying there, who everybody could see was a settin' her cap for the minister.

"Mis' Pipperidge said, that so long as she looked on Huldy as the hired gal, she hadn't thought much about it; but Huldy was railly takin' on airs as an equal, and appearin' as mistress o the house in a way that would make talk if it went on. And


Mis' Pipperidge she driv' 'round up to Deakin Abner Snow's, and down to Mis' 'Lijah Perry's, and asked them if they wasn't afraid that the way the parson and Huldy was a goin' on might make talk. And they said they hadn't thought on't before, but now, come to think on't, they was sure it would; and they all went and talked with somebody else, and asked them if they didn't think it would make talk. So come Sunday, between meetin's there warn't nothin' else talked about; and Huldy saw folks a noddin' and a winkin', and a lookin' arter her, and she begun to feel drefful sort o' disagreeable. Finally Mis' Sawin she says to her, 'My dear, didn't you never think folk would talk about you and the minister?'

"No: why should they?' says Huldy, quite innocent.

"Wal, dear,' says she, 'I think it's a shame; but they say you're tryin' to catch him, and that it's so bold and improper for you to be courtin' of him right in his own house,—you know folks will talk, I thought I'd tell you 'cause I think so much of you,' says she.

"Huldy was a gal of spirit, and she despised the talk, but it made her drefful uncomfortable; and when she got home at night she sat down in the mornin'-glory porch, quite quiet, and didn't sing a word.

"The minister he had heard the same thing from one of his deakins that day; and when he saw Huldy sọ kind o' silent, he says to her, 'Why don't you sing, my child ?'

"He hed a pleasant sort o' way with him, the minister had, and Huldy had got to likin' to be with him; and it all come over her that perhaps she ought to go away; and her throat kind o' filled up so she couldn't hardly speak; and, says she, 'I can't sing to-night.'

"Says he, 'You don't know how much good your singin' has done me, nor how much good you have done me in all ways, Huldy. I wish I knew how to show my gratitude.'

"O sir!' says Huldy, 'is it improper for me to be here?'

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"No, dear,' says the minister, but ill-natured folks will talk; but there is one way we can stop it, Huldy-if you'll marry me. You'll make make me very happy, and I'll do all I can to make you happy. Will you?'

"Wal, Huldy never told me just what she said to the minister; gals never does give you the particulars of them 'are things jist as you'd like 'em-only I know the upshot, and the hull on't was, that Huldy she did a consid'able lot o' clear starchin' and ironin' the next two days; and the Friday o' next week the minister and she rode over together to Dr. Lothrop's in Oldtown; and the doctor, he jist made 'em man and wife.”


I JUDGE ov a man's virtew entirely bi his pashions-it iz a grate deal eazier tew be a good dove, than a decent sarpent.

Thare are menny ways to find out how brave and how honest a man may be, but thare aint no way to find out the extent ov hiz vanity.

A lie iz like a cat, it never cums to yu in a straight line.

Natur iz a kind mother. She couldn't well afford to make us perfekt, and so she made us blind to our failings.

Studdy the heart if yu want to learn human natur; there ain't no human natur in a man's head.

Friendship iz simply the gallantry of self interest.

Beware ov the man with half-shut eyes-he ain't dreaming. Experience makes more timid men than it duz wise ones. Advice iz a drug in the market; the supply alwus exceeds the demand.

One ov the safest and most successful tallents I kno ov iz to be a good listener.

Fools are the whet-stones ov society.

Better make a weak man your enemy than your friend.
Curiosity iz the instinct ov wisdom.

Thoze who becum disgusted, and withdraw from the world, musn't forgit one thing, that the world will forgit them, a long time before they will forgit the world.


Oliver Wendell Holmes.


THERE are three ways in which men take One's money from his purse,

And very hard it is to tell

Which of the three is worse; But all of them are bad enough To make a body curse.

You're riding out some pleasant day,
And counting up your gains;
A fellow jumps from out a bush,
And takes your horse's reins.
Another hints some words about
A bullet in your brains.

It's hard to meet such pressing friends
In such a lonely spot;

It's very hard to lose your cash,

But harder to be shot :

And so you take your wallet out,
Though you would rather not.

Perhaps you're going out to dine,—
Some odious creature begs

You'll hear about the cannon-ball
That carried off his pegs,

And says it is a dreadful thing
For men to lose their legs.

He tells you of his starving wife,
His children to be fed,

Poor little, lovely innocents
All clamorous for bread,

And so you kindly help to put
A bachelor to bed.

You're sitting on your window-seat,
Beneath a cloudless moon;

You hear a sound that seems to wear
The semblance of a tune,

As if a broken fife should strive

To drown a cracked bassoon.

And nearer, nearer still, the tide

Of music seems to come,

There's something like a human voice,

And something like a drum;

You sit in speechless agony,

Until your ear is numb.

Poor "home, sweet home" should seem to be

A very dismal place;

Your "auld acquaintance" all at once

ls altered in the face;

Their discords sting through Burns and Moore, Like hedgehogs dressed in lace.

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