of glass. His memory was stirred by
his wife's catechising, but it was too late to undo the mischief.

MINISTERIAL TRIALS IN OLDEN TIMES.

In modern times, ministers are badly paid, considering the expenses of
their training and long education, but they are better paid than they
used to be. In 1756, the minister of Ferintosh, a big, active man, with
the object of adding something to his stipend, leased the meal-mill of
Alcaig from the laird of Culloden. The combination of miller and
minister did not please his parishioners. It never occurred to these
clowns that the occupation of miller is singularly adapted for
reflection: spiritual and bodily nourishment (thought of together) might
well form a field of thought fertile in instructive metaphors; "the dark
round of the dripping wheel," the work of separating husks and flour,
the topics of dearth and abundance, might all come to have a homiletic
value to a serious-minded teacher of religion. But a cry of scandal,
directed not against themselves for underpaying their minister, but
against that worthy man for being an _ordained miller_, arose in the
parish. A member of the congregation was deputed to give a gentle hint
to the minister that the two occupations were incompatible. The
interview took place on the high road. "What news this morning, Thomas?"
said the minister. "Have you not heard of the fearful news?" said
Thomas. "No, what is it?" "Well, everybody's saying," said Thomas, with
a whisper of affected horror, "that _the minister's wife has taken up
with the big miller of Alcaig_." The delicacy of this hint was such that
the minister resigned his lease.

The trials of ministers long ago were truly great. Witches had to be
reckoned with, as the aforementioned Ferintosh minister, who was their
foe, knew to his cost. By their incantations they caused him to be
afflicted with somnolency. As this sleepy fit usually came on in church
between the first psalm and the prayer, it can be easily seen how awful
were the reprisals of these Satanic hags.

AN ARTFUL DODGER.

The Rev. Mr. Rogers, minister of a parish in Fife, was, like many
another worthy man, in sore financial straits at one period of his life.
He was a widower, and probably this fact accounts for his displenished
exchequer. With supreme audacity he touched the bell of a rich old
maiden lady, and on entering her boudoir he bluntly admitted his lack of
funds, and said, "Give me L200 and I'll marry you." She