f there are
clouds in the sky, and I am getting in the hay just ready for loading,
and rain sure to come in the night, I should look ill upon brother
Robinson if he came into the field to speak about serious things.'

'But, at any rate, father, you do good to the women, and perhaps they
repeat what you have said to them to their husbands and children?'

'It is to be hoped they do, for I cannot reach the men directly; but
the women are apt to tarry before coming to me, to put on ribbons and
gauds; as if they could hear the message I bear to them best in their
smart clothes. Mrs Dobson to-day--Phillis, I am thankful thou dost not
care for the vanities of dress!' Phillis reddened a little as she said,
in a low humble voice,--

'But I do, father, I'm afraid. I often wish I could wear
pretty-coloured ribbons round my throat like the squire's daughters.'

'It's but natural, minister!' said his wife; 'I'm not above liking a
silk gown better than a cotton one myself!'

'The love of dress is a temptation and a snare,' said he, gravely. 'The
true adornment is a meek and quiet spirit. And, wife,' said he, as a
sudden thought crossed his mind, 'in that matter I, too, have sinned. I
wanted to ask you, could we not sleep in the grey room, instead of our
own?'

'Sleep in the grey room?--change our room at this time o' day?' cousin
Holman asked, in dismay.

'Yes,' said he. 'It would save me from a daily temptation to anger.
Look at my chin!' he continued; 'I cut it this morning--I cut it on
Wednesday when I was shaving; I do not know how many times I have cut
it of late, and all from impatience at seeing Timothy Cooper at his
work in the yard.'

'He's a downright lazy tyke!' said cousin Holman. 'He's not worth his
wage. There's but little he can do, and what he can do, he does badly.'

'True,' said the minister. 'He is but, so to speak, a half-wit; and yet
he has got a wife and children.'

'More shame for him!'

'But that is past change. And if I turn him off; no one else will take
him on. Yet I cannot help watching him of a morning as he goes
sauntering about his work in the yard; and I watch, and I watch, till
the old Adam rises strong within me at his lazy ways, and some day, I
am afraid, I shall go down and send him about his business--let alone
the way in which he makes me cut myself while I am shaving--and then
his wife and children will starve. I wish we could move to the grey
room.'

I do not remember much more