the city, get proud, waste all their money in folly and vice, and return
among honest people with a sheriff at their heels, because they don't
pay nobody--but don't you go and do it. My friends--there will be an
account to settle with these people who swell themselves up so big, when
roasting-day comes. You that have wives--look to them. Keep their hearts
pure and simple. Don't let them spend your money in silks and satins. If
you do, the sheriff locks up your door and puts the key in his pocket."
Thus the Dominie concluded, reminding his hearers that, as it was
Harvest-Sunday, they must not forget to be liberal with their sixpences
when the box came round.

His hearers were greatly delighted, and declared they had not heard him
preach so good a sermon for many a day. And when he came down from the
pulpit they congratulated him, and sundry extra pecks of wheat were
promised as a reward for the light he had favored them with.

The day wore away pleasantly, and when evening came, when the gleams of
the setting sun tipped the surrounding hills with golden light, and
dusky shadows were creeping up the valley, the reader, if he had looked
in at Hanz Toodleburg's little house, might have seen one of those
quaint but pleasant pictures which are a fit ending of such a day.

There, grouped around his table, sat the Dominie, Doctor Critchel,
Bright the inn-keeper, and the schoolmaster, for Hanz had invited them
to sup with him, and Angeline had prepared the best she had to set
before them. There, too, was Tite's empty chair. There it stood, silent
and touching, all the pleasant memories it once contained made sad now
by the mystery that enshrouded his long absence. There was his plate,
and his knife and fork, all so bright and clean, set as regularly as if
he were home, and guarded so tenderly. The eloquence of that vacant
chair, appealing so directly to the finer sensibilities of every one
present, left a deep and sad impression. Supper was nearly over before
any of the guests had courage to refer to it. The Dominie at length
raised his spectacles and addressing Angeline, said: "Heaven gives to
every house its idol. We have been blessed to-day, and made happy. It
will yet please Heaven to bring back the idol of this house, and fill
that empty chair. I am sure we shall all be glad when the boy gets
home."

"When he does, there will be such a time at my house," interposed the
inn-keeper, nodding his head approvingly. "There's