unate in the selection of his subject, on the
occasion of which we are writing. There had been so much personal
activity, and so much political discussion during the past week, as to
prevent him from writing a new sermon, and of course he was compelled
to fail back on the other end of the barrel. The recent arguments
inclined him to maintain his own opinions, and he chose a discourse
that he had delivered to the garrison of which he had last been
chaplain. To this choice he had been enticed by the text, which was,
"Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's," a mandate that would
be far more palatable to an audience composed of royal troops, than to
one which had become a good deal disaffected by the arts and arguments
of Joel Strides and the miller. Still, as the sermon contained a proper
amount of theological truisms, and had a sufficiency of general
orthodoxy to cover a portion of its political bearing, it gave far more
dissatisfaction to a few of the knowing, than to the multitude. To own
the truth, the worthy priest was so much addicted to continuing his
regimental and garrison course of religious instruction, that his
ordinary listeners would scarcely observe this tendency to loyalty;
though it was far different with those who were eagerly looking for
causes of suspicion and denunciation, in the higher quarters.

"Well," said Joel, as he and the miller, followed by their respective
families, proceeded towards the mill, where the household of the
Strides' were to pass the remainder of the day, "well, this is a bold
sermon for a minister to preach in times like these! I kind o' guess,
if Mr. Woods was down in the Bay, 'render unto Caesar the things that
are Caesars,' wouldn't be doctrine to be so quietly received by every
congregation. What's your notion about that, Miss Strides?"

_Miss_ Strides thought exactly as her husband thought, and the
miller and his wife were not long in chiming in with her, accordingly.
The sermon furnished material for conversation throughout the remainder
of the day, at the mill, and divers conclusions were drawn from it,
that were ominous to the preacher's future comfort and security.

Nor did the well-meaning parson entirely escape comment in the higher
quarters.

"I wish, Woods, you had made choice of some other subject," observed
the captain, as he and his friend walked the lawn together, in waiting
for a summons to dinner.

"In times like these, one cannot be too careful o