up all the houses in the parish at which you are expected to call, that is, houses in which families and portions of families live who attend our meeting; and I find them to be 153. At each of these houses, of course, it is your duty to visit, and as it would be partial and improper in you to call at my house oftener than you do at the others, or remain there longer, it follows that at each of the 153 houses you must call once a week, and remain one hour: that is, you must visit 153 hours each week, (not including the time going and coming) which, as you may readily perceive, is a fraction less than twenty-two hours each day.

You may say, it is unreasonable to require such an amount of visiting; but be it so or be it not so, we can get along with nothing less. You may possibly object to it, on the ground that it does not leave you time sufficient to attend to other important and necessary duties. I have made the following calculation of the hours you will probably need each day for other things, and when they are all added together with the twenty-two above, you can judge whether you can or cannot make so many hours out of each day,

We shall cheerfully say that you need six hours for sleep. We are willing that you should have three meals a day, and as twenty minutes are sufficient for each, we set down to the account of eating, one hour. We shall expect you to preach four times every week; three on the Sabbath, and on Wednesday evening; and four hours each day we deem an ample allowance for the preparation of the four sermons. Then for attendance upon marriages, funerals, ordinations, dedications, ministers' meetings, anniversaries, &c., including time occupied in travelling to and from the places, say three hours. For attending to household. duties, children, &c., three and a half hours. In preaching, attending prayer and church meetings,-time occupied in travelling to visit, and reading, say at the rate of four hours. Waiting upon company, and other incidentals, one hour; in all forty-four and a half hours.

This, I have no doubt, the church will consider a very judicious and agreeable division of your time. You may say you do not see how you can make forty-four and a half hours. out of twenty-four; but that, you must remember, will not be absolutely necessary, provided

you can abridge the time in any of the particulars except visiting. It may be that you can get along comfortably with five hours sleep; Buonaparte took but four. Perhaps you can manage to lop off a half hour here and there of the other items; but you may rest assured that the people will be satisfied with nothing less than twenty-two hours of daily visiting. I am confident on this point. I speak, too, with some authority about the matter; or at least, I may say advisedly, for I have consulted with the leading brethren, and they are fully decided that nothing less than the twenty-two hours of visiting each day will stop the complaints, and be satisfactory to the people. We are to have a special meeting of the church next week, to act in reference to this matter. If you can come to your decision by that time, we should be happy to have you present. If you decide that you can gratify our wishes in regard to visiting, we shall rejoice to have you remain as our pastor; and we shall not only pay you the ample salary we have, but cheerfully raise it $100 per year. If, after duly considering the subject, howeve, you come to the conclusion that

you

cannot comply with our desires, unpleasant as the alternative is, and highly as we esteem and love you, we shall be compelled to request you to ask for your dismission.

I am, Rev. Sir, with great respect, your complaining parishioner,

TIMOTHY QUINKILHORN.

This letter did not fail of its intended effect. The good man easily guessed from whom it came; and the next time he met the lawyer, he laughingly said, "You complaining parishioners may grumble till you are tired-I have something of more importance to attend to than to worry myself about you." "Ah!"

said the Squire, shaking his head, and putting on a sort of comical look, "if you don't VISIT us more, you'll get your walking ticket at the next church meeting."

CHAPTER VI.

HENRY GREEDY.

"But man thou seem'st; clear therefore from thy breast This lust of money-folly at the best!"

Henry Greedy was a farmer; he was the son of a farmer; and his father was the son of a farmer. He lived in the same house, repair in spots it is true, which his grandfather and ther had successively occupied before him. He was in circumstances that farmers in New England generally call "forehanded;" that is, the farm which he owned, lying upon the rich banks of the beautiful river of - " in the northern part of Massachusetts, was worth some $3,500, and comfortably supported his family, which consisted of himself, wife, and four children.

He was much respected, in a certain way, by his neighbors, notwithstanding they most fully believed that there was a curious and harmonious similarity between his name and