e came to be less of a
check on Mrs. Yellett's natural medium of expression, that she was much
addicted to a species of quotation with which she impartially adorned her
conversation, pointed family morals, or administered an occasional
reproof. These family aphorisms were sometimes semi-legal, sometimes
semi-scriptural in turn of phrase, and built on a foundation of homely
philosophy. They were ascribed to the "Book of Hiram" and never failed of
salutary effect in the family circle. But the apt quotations that she had
just heard piqued Mary's curiosity more than before.

"Do you happen to have a copy of the Book of Hiram, Mrs. Yellett?" she
asked, in all innocence, supposing that the 'homely apothegms were to be
found at the back of some patent-medicine almanac. Judith Rodney listened
in wonder. The question had never before been asked in her hearing.

"I lost mine." Mrs. Yellett folded her arms and looked at her questioner
with something of a challenging mien.

"What a pity! I've been so interested in the quotations I've heard you
make from it."

"What's the matter with 'em?" she demanded, pride and apprehension equally
commingled.

Judith Rodney rushed to the rescue:

"Nothing is the matter with them, Mrs. Yellett," she said, with her
disarming smile, "except that there is not quite enough to go around."

The matriarch had the air of gathering herself together for something
really worth while. Then she tossed off:

"''Tain't always the quality of the grub that confers the flavor, but
sometimes the scarcity thereof.'"

Perhaps it has been the good-fortune of some of us to say a word of praise
to an author, while unconscious of his relationship to the book praised.
Mark the genial glow radiating from every feature of our auditor! How we
feel ourselves anointed with his approval, our good taste and critical
faculty how commended! It is a luxury that goes a long way towards
mitigating the discomfitures caused by the reverse of this unctuous
blunder.

"The Book of Hiram," said Mrs. Yellett, angling for time, "is a book--it do
surprise me that it escapes your notice back East. You ever heard tell of
the Book of Mormon?"

Mary assented.

"Well, the Book of Hiram is like the Book of Mormon, only a heap more
undefiled. The youngest child can read it without asking a single
embarrassing question of its elder, and the oldest sinner can read it
without having any fleshly meditations intrudin' on his piety."

The