devil you do, Woods!" cried the captain, looking up from his bit
of dry toast, in astonishment. "Why, my dear fellow--this is odd--
excessively odd, if the truth must be said.--To own the real state of
the case, chaplain, you have won _me_ over, and I was just about
to make proper acknowledgments of your victory!"

It need scarcely be added that the rest of the company were not a
little amazed at these cross-concessions, while Maud was exceedingly
amused. As for Mrs. Willoughby, nothing laughable ever occurred in
connection with her husband; and then she would as soon think of
assailing the church itself, as to ridicule one of its ministers.
Beulah could see nothing but what was right in her father, at least;
and, as for the major, he felt too much concerned at this unexpected
admission of his father's, to perceive anything but the error.

"Have you not overlooked the injunction of scripture, my excellent
friend?" rejoined the chaplain. "Have you left to the rights of Caesar,
all their weight and authority? 'The king's name is a tower of
strength.'"

"Have not you, Woods, forgotten the superior claims of reason and
right, over those of accident and birth--that man is to be considered
as a reasoning being, to be governed by principles and ever-varying
facts, and not a mere animal left to the control of an instinct that
perishes with its usefulness?"

"What _can_ they mean, mother?" whispered Maud, scarce able to
repress the laughter that came so easily to one with a keen sense of
the ludicrous.

"They have been arguing about the right of parliament to tax the
colonies, I believe, my dear, and _over-persuaded_ each other,
that's all. It _is_ odd, Robert, that Mr. Woods should convert
your father."

"No, my dearest mother, it is something even more serious than that."
By this time, the disputants, who sat opposite each other, were fairly
launched into the discussion, again, and heeded nothing that
passed--"No, dearest mother, it is far worse than even _that_.
Pliny, tell my man to brush the hunting-jacket--and, see he has his
breakfast, in good style--he is a grumbling rascal, and will give the
house a bad character, else--you need not come back, until we ring for
you--yes, mother, yes dearest girls, this is a far more serious matter
than you suppose, though it ought not to be mentioned idly, among the
people. God knows now they may take it--and bad news flies swift
enough, of itself."

"Merciful Providence!" exc