of sack
at their departure. So they took leave, and went
away."--_Massachusetts Colonial Records._

Dr. Gaston sat in his library, studying a chess problem. His clerical
coat was old and spotted, his table was of rough wood, the floor
uncarpeted; by right, Poverty should have made herself prominent there.
But she did not. Perhaps she liked the old chaplain, who showed a fine,
amply built person under her reign, with florid complexion, bright blue
eyes, and a curly brown wig--very different in aspect from her usual
lean and dismal retinue; perhaps, also, she stopped here herself to warm
her cold heart now and then in the hot, bright, crowded little room,
which was hers by right, although she did not claim it, enjoying it,
however, as a miserly money-lender enjoys the fine house over which he
holds a mortgage, rubbing his hands exultingly, as, clad in his thin old
coat, he walks by. Certainly the plastering had dropped from the walls
here and there; there was no furniture save the tables and shelves made
by the island carpenter, and one old leathern arm-chair, the parson's
own, a miracle of comfort, age, and hanging leather tatters. But on the
shelves and on the tables, on the floor and on the broad window-sills,
were books; they reached the ceiling on the shelves; they wainscoted the
walls to the height of several feet all round the room; small volumes
were piled on the narrow mantel as far up as they could go without
toppling over, and the tables were loaded also. Aisles were kept open
leading to the door, to the windows, and to the hearth, where the ragged
arm-chair stood, and where there was a small parade-ground of open
floor; but everywhere else the printed thoughts held sway. The old
fire-place was large and deep, and here burned night and day, throughout
the winter, a fire which made the whole room bright; add to this the
sunshine streaming through the broad, low, uncurtained windows, and you
have the secret of the cheerfulness in the very face of a barren lack of
everything we are accustomed to call comfort.

The Reverend James Gaston was an Englishman by birth. On coming to
America he had accepted a chaplaincy in the army, with the intention of
resigning it as soon as he had become sufficiently familiar with the
ways of the Church in this country to feel at ease in a parish. But
years had passed, and he was a chaplain still; for evidently the country
parishes were not regulated according to his home