s minister he was literally a holder up of
the weary hands, and a comforter in the time of trouble.

His helpmeet, Aunt Hannah, like that virtuous woman mentioned in the
Bible, was one "who seeketh wool and flax, and worketh willingly with
her hands, who riseth while yet it is night, and giveth meat to her
household." Indeed, for this last stirring trait Aunt Hannah was rather
famous, especially on Monday mornings, when her washing was invariably
swinging on the line ready to greet the rising sun.

Miss Betsy Barlow, too, the deacon's maiden sister, was a character in
her way, and was surely not one of those vain, frivolous females to whom
the Apostle Paul had reference when he condemned the plaiting of hair
and the wearing of gold and jewels. Quaint, queer and simple-hearted,
she had but little idea of any world this side of heaven, except the one
bounded by the "huckleberry" hills and the crystal waters of Fairy Pond,
which from the back door of the farmhouse were plainly seen, both in the
summer sunshine and when the intervening fields were covered with the
winter snow.

The home of such a trio was, like themselves, ancient and unpretentious,
nearly one hundred years having elapsed since the solid foundation was
laid to a portion of the building. Unquestionably, it was the oldest
house in Silverton, for on the heavy, oaken door of what was called the
back room was still to be seen the mark of a bullet, left there by some
marauders who, during the Revolution, had encamped in that neighborhood.
George Washington, too, it was said, had once spent a night beneath its
roof, the deacon's mother pouring for him her Bohea tea and breaking her
home-made bread. Since that time several attempts had been made to
modernize the house. Lath and plaster had been put upon the rafters and
paper upon the walls, wooden latches had given place to iron, while in
the parlor, where Washington had slept, there was the extravagance of a
knob, a genuine porcelain knob, such, as Uncle Ephraim said, was only
fit for the gentry who could afford to be grand. For himself, he was
content to live as his father did; but young folks, he supposed, must in
some things have their way, and so when his pretty niece, who had lived
with him from childhood to the day of her marriage, came back to him a
widow, bringing her two fatherless children and a host of new ideas, he
good-humoredly suffered her to tear down some of his household idols
and replace them