asion to introduce into his sermon one Sunday,
in his little parish, an account of a journey he took; and how he was
"very warm and very dry;" and how he saw a fine orchard of peaches that
made his mouth water to look at them. "So," says he, "I came up to the
fence and looked all around, for I would not have touched one of them
_without leave_ for all the world. At last I spied a man, and says I,
'Mister, won't you give me some of your peaches?' So the man came and
gave me nigh about a hat full. And while I stood there eating, I said,
'Mister, how do you manage to keep your peaches?' 'Keep them!' said he,
and he stared at me; 'what do you mean?' 'Yes, sir,' said I; 'don't the
boys steal them?' 'Boys steal them!' said he. 'No, indeed!' 'Why, sir,'
said I, 'I have a whole lot full of peaches, and I cannot get half of
them'"--here the old man's voice grew tremulous--"'because the boys in
my parish steal them so.' 'Why, sir,' said he, 'don't their parents
teach them not to steal?' And I grew all over in a cold sweat, and I
told him 'I was afeard they didn't.' 'Why, how you talk!' says the man;
'do tell me where you live?' Then," said Father Morris, the tears
running over, "I was obliged to tell him I lived in the town of G."
After this Father Morris kept his peaches.

Our old friend was not less original in the logical than in the
illustrative portions of his discourses. His logic was of that familiar,
colloquial kind which shakes hands with common sense like an old friend.
Sometimes, too, his great mind and great heart would be poured out on
the vast themes of religion, in language which, though homely, produced
all the effects of the sublime. He once preached a discourse on the
text, "the High and Holy One that inhabiteth eternity;" and from the
beginning to the end it was a train of lofty and solemn thought. With
his usual simple earnestness, and his great, rolling voice, he told
about "the Great God--the Great Jehovah--and how the people in this
world were flustering and worrying, and afraid they should not get time
to do this, and that, and t'other. But," he added, with full-hearted
satisfaction, "the Lord is never in a hurry; he has it all to do, but he
has time enough, for he inhabiteth eternity." And the grand idea of
infinite leisure and almighty resources was carried through the sermon
with equal strength and simplicity.

Although the old man never seemed to be sensible of any thing tending to
the ludicrous in hi