eir worship, which, at first, I considered ridiculous:
the feeling has, however, worn off. As to their quaint manner of
speaking, that has been grossly exaggerated. Their dress is a part of
their religion."

"Why so, Japhet?"

"I can reply to you in the words of Susannah Temple, when I made the
same interrogatory. `You think the peculiarity of our dress is an
outward form which is not required. It was put on to separate us from
others, and as a proof of our sincerity; but still, the discarding of
the dress is a proof of sincerity. We consider, that to admire the
person is vain, and our creed is humility. It is therefore an outward
and visible sign, that we would act up to those tenets which we profess.
It is not all who wear the dress who are Quakers in heart or conduct;
but we know that when it is put aside, the tenets of our persuasion are
at the same time renounced, therefore do we consider it essential. I do
not mean to say but that the heart may be as pure, and the faith
continue as steadfast, without such signs outwardly, but it is a part of
our creed, and we must not choose, but either reject all or none.'"

"Very well argued by the little Quakeress; and now Japhet, I should like
to put another question to you. Are you very much attached to this
young puritan?"

"I will not deny but that I am. I love her sincerely."

"Does your love carry you so far, that you would, for her sake, continue
a Quaker, and marry her?"

"I have asked myself that question at least a hundred times during the
last twenty-four hours, and I cannot decide. If she would dress as
others do, and allow me to do the same, I would marry her to-morrow;
whether I shall ever make up my mind to adhere to the persuasion, and
live and die a Quaker for her sake, is quite another matter--but I am
afraid not--I am too worldly-minded. The fact is, I am in a very
awkward position with respect to her. I have never acknowledged my
affection, or asked for a return, but she knows I love her, and I know
that she loves me."

"Like all vain boys, you flatter yourself."

"I leave you to judge, sir," replied I, repeating to him our parting
_tete-a-tete_, and how I had returned, and found her in tears.

"All that certainly is very corroborative evidence; but tell me, Japhet,
do you think she loves you well enough to abandon all for your sake?"

"No, nor ever will, sir, she is too high-principled, too high-minded.
She might suffer greatly, but