And Mrs.Anderson took the warning with beautiful meekness, sinking into forty fathoms of undisguised and rather ostentatious humility, heaving solemn sighs in token of self-reproach--a self-reproach that did not penetrate the cuticle.
[Illustration: A PASTORAL VISIT.] "And you, Sister Cynthy Ann," he said, fighting shy of Jonas for the present, "I trust you are trying to let your light shine.

Do you feel that you are pressing on ?" Poor Cynthy Ann sank into a despondency deeper than usual.

She was afeard not.

Seemed like as ef her heart was cold and dead to God.

Seemed like as ef she couldn't no ways gin up the world.