me degree become assimilated to those of their
fellow-worshippers. Adam Colburn gradually acquired reputation not
only in the management of the temporal affairs of the society, but as
a clear and efficient preacher of their doctrines. Martha was not less
distinguished in the duties proper to her sex. Finally, when the
infirmities of Father Ephraim had admonished him to seek a successor
in his patriarchal office, he thought of Adam and Martha, and proposed
to renew in their persons the primitive form of Shaker government as
established by Mother Ann. They were to be the father and mother of
the village. The simple ceremony which would constitute them such was
now to be performed.

"Son Adam and daughter Martha," said the venerable Father Ephraim,
fixing his aged eyes piercingly upon them, "if ye can conscientiously
undertake this charge, speak, that the brethren may not doubt of your
fitness."

"Father," replied Adam, speaking with the calmness of his character,
"I came to your village a disappointed man, weary of the world, worn
out with continual trouble, seeking only a security against evil
fortune, as I had no hope of good. Even my wishes of worldly success
were almost dead within me. I came hither as a man might come to a
tomb willing to lie down in its gloom and coldness for the sake of its
peace and quiet. There was but one earthly affection in my breast, and
it had grown calmer since my youth; so that I was satisfied to bring
Martha to be my sister in our new abode. We are brother and sister,
nor would I have it otherwise. And in this peaceful village I have
found all that I hope for--all that I desire. I will strive with my
best strength for the spiritual and temporal good of our community. My
conscience is not doubtful in this matter. I am ready to receive the
trust."

"Thou hast spoken well, son Adam," said the father. "God will bless
thee in the office which I am about to resign."

"But our sister," observed the elder from Harvard. "Hath she not
likewise a gift to declare her sentiments?"

Martha started and moved her lips as if she would have made a formal
reply to this appeal. But, had she attempted it, perhaps the old
recollections, the long-repressed feelings of childhood, youth and
womanhood, might have gushed from her heart in words that it would
have been profanation to utter there.

"Adam has spoken," said she, hurriedly; "his sentiments are likewise
mine."

But while speaking these few word