Upon one of these portraits--the name of the original of which was stated at the foot of the print to be the Reverend Aaron Yollop--Mr.Thorpe now fixed his eyes, with a faint approach to a smile on his face (he never was known to laugh), and with a look and manner which said as plainly as if he had spoken it: "This old man is about to say something improper or absurd to me; but he is my wife's father, it is my duty to bear with him, and therefore I am perfectly resigned." "It's no use looking in that way, Thorpe," growled the old gentleman; "I'm not to be put down by looks at my time of life.

I may have my own opinions I suppose, like other people; and I don't see why I shouldn't express them, especially when they relate to my own daughter's boy.

It's very unreasonable of me, I dare say, but I think I ought to have a voice now and then in Zack's bringing up." Mr.Thorpe bowed respectfully--partly to Mr.Goodworth, partly to the Reverend Aaron Yollop.

"I shall always be happy, sir, to listen to any expression of your opinion--" "My opinion's this," burst out Mr.Goodworth.

"You've no business to take Zack to church at all, till he's some years older than he is now.
I don't deny that there may be a few children, here and there, at six years old, who are so very patient, and so very--( what's the word for a child that knows a deal more than he has any business to know at his age?
Stop! I've got it!--_precocious_--that's the word)--so very patient and so very precocious that they will sit quiet in the same place for two hours; making believe all the time that they understand every word of the service, whether they really do or not.