st certain death. He
mentioned one poor widow to whom he had just sent three hundred dollars
as a gift from the railway.

Before leaving the subject of Mr. Tyson, I must tell you one or two of
his good stories. I had been telling him of the negro meeting, which I
described to you in my last. In it I told you how the negroes had cried
out "glory! glory!" from which it appears it is almost impossible that
they can refrain. In corroboration of this he told us of a nigger woman
who was sold from a Baptist to a Presbyterian family. In general slaves
adopt, at once, the habits and doctrines of their new owners; but this
poor woman could not restrain herself, and greatly disturbed the
Presbyterian congregation, by shouting out "glory! glory!" in the
middle of the service. Next morning the minister sent for her and
rebuked her for this unseemly interruption of his sermon; but she said
doggedly, "Can't help it, sir; I'm all full of glory; must shout it
out." Many of his amusing stories were about Irish labourers employed on
the road. One of these, whose duty it was to show a light at the station
as the train passed, failed one night to do so, and was seen asleep. The
man who drove the engine threw a cinder at him as he passed, to awake
him; but, instead of hitting him, the cinder broke his lamp glass. All
this was told to Mr. Tyson, and also that the man was very angry at his
lamp being broken. When Mr. T. went down the line next day, he stopped
to lecture him, and the following colloquy ensued:--

_Mr. Tyson._ "Well, your lamp was broke, I hear, yesterday."

_Irishman._ "O, yes sir;" (terrified out of his life at the scolding he
feared was coming, for he saw that Mr. Tyson knew all about it;) "but I
forgive the blackguards intirely, sir, I _quite_ forgive them."

Mr. T. kept his counsel, said nothing more, and the lamp has never
failed since; but half the merit of this story depended on Mr. Tyson's
way of telling it. He was deliciously graphic also, and full of witty
sayings of his own. When, for example, I showed him my photograph of
your little brother, he exclaimed, "Well, he _is_ a fine fellow; HE
don't mind if corn is five dollars a bushel." I think you will all
appreciate this as a perfect description of the unconcern of a healthy
intelligent-looking child, unconscious of the anxieties of those about
him; but I must reserve his other good sayings and stories till we meet.

To-day we have been most busily employed, for