mnant of dough which she left sticking
to the sides of the pan. She replied that she fed it to the horses.
Her case received no further consideration.

The search had extended nearly a hundred miles when, early one
evening, he reached what was then the small village of Moncton.
He was attracted by the strains of music from a church, went into
it, and found a religious meeting in progress. His eye was at once
arrested by the face and head of a young woman playing on a melodeon,
who was leading the singing. He sat in such a position that he could
carefully scan her face and movements. As he continued this study
the conviction grew upon him that here was the object of his search.
That such should have occurred before there was any opportunity to
inspect the doughpan may lead the reader to conclusions of his own.
He inquired her name--Emily Prince. He cultivated her acquaintance,
paid his addresses, and was accepted. He was fond of astronomy, and
during the months of his engagement one of his favorite occupations
was to take her out of an evening and show her the constellations.
It is even said that, among the daydreams in which they indulged, one
was that their firstborn might be an astronomer. Probably this was
only a passing fancy, as I heard nothing of it during my childhood.
The marriage was in all respects a happy one, so far as congeniality
of nature and mutual regard could go. Although the wife died at the
early age of thirty-seven, the husband never ceased to cherish her
memory, and, so far as I am aware, never again thought of marrying.

My mother was the most profoundly and sincerely religious woman
with whom I was ever intimately acquainted, and my father always
entertained and expressed the highest admiration for her mental
gifts, to which he attributed whatever talents his children might
have possessed. The unfitness of her environment to her constitution
is the saddest memory of my childhood. More I do not trust myself
to say to the public, nor will the reader expect more of me.

My father followed, during most of his life, the precarious occupation
of a country school teacher. It was then, as it still is in many
thinly settled parts of the country, an almost nomadic profession,
a teacher seldom remaining more than one or two years in the same
place. Thus it happened that, during the first fifteen years of
my life, movings were frequent. My father tried his fortune in a
number of places, both