the unusual movement, and in the heat of
it thanking God for all the blessings that had befallen him: a pleasant
home; a loving wife; a little boy to bear the name, in which, with all
his spiritual tendencies, he yet took a very human pride; health,--and
he whisked his cane as vigorously as ever the Major had done his
cumbrous sword,--the world's comforts; a congregation that met him
kindly, that listened kindly. Was he not leading them in the path of
salvation, and rejoicing in the leadership?

And then, to himself,--"Be careful, careful, Benjamin Johns, that you
take not too great a pride in this work and home of yours. You are but
an instrument in greater hands; He doeth with you what seemeth Him best.
Let not the enticements of the world be too near your thought." In this
way it was that the minister pruned down all the shoots of his natural
affections, lest they might prove a decoy to him, and wrapped himself
ever more closely in the rigors of his chosen theology.

As the boy Reuben grows, and gains a firmer footing, he sometimes
totters beside the clergyman in these orchard walks, clinging blindly to
his hand, and lifting his uncertain feet with great effort over the
interrupting tufts of grass, unheeded by the minister, who is pondering
some late editorial of the "Boston Recorder." But far oftener the boy is
with the mother, burying his face in that dear lap of hers,--lifting the
wet face to have tears kissed away and forgotten. And as he thrives and
takes the strength of three or four years, he walks beside her under the
trees of the village street, clad in such humble finery as the Handby
grandparents may have bestowed; and he happens oftenest, on these
strolls with Rachel, into the hospitable home of the Elderkins, where
there are little ones to romp with the boy. Most noticeable of all, just
now, one Philip Elderkin, (of whom more will have to be said as this
story progresses,) only a year the senior of Reuben, but of far stouter
frame, who looks admiringly on the minister's child, and as he grows
warm in play frights him with some show of threat, which makes the
little Reuben run for cover to the arms of Rachel. Whereat the mother
kisses him into boldness, and tells him that Phil is a good boy and
means no harm to him.

Often, too, in the square-topped chaise, the child is seated on a little
stool between the parson and his wife, as they drive away upon their
visits to the outskirts of the parish,--puzzli