ately fond of Byron; some of his poems are just too sweet for
anything."

Some of the wise ones almost thought Mrs. Lewis' text had a spice of
sarcasm in it as she quoted for answer, "The testimonies of the Lord
are sure, making wise the simple."

Miss McIntosh, learned, and strong-mindedly inclined, said that she
had heard that the ladies in Millville had spent one afternoon a week
in the study of Political Economy, with very much benefit; they felt
that their minds had been enlarged and strengthened; her preference
would be for something of that sort, some broad, deep subject, that
would require study; she would suggest Mental Philosophy.

"The Bible just fits in there," said Mrs. Lewis. "'Thy Word is a
great deep,' and Peter said that Paul wrote 'things hard to be
understood,' you remember."

"And that's queer, too," spoke up Mrs. Peterson. "Such a deep book,
and yet I feel more at home in it than in any other book you have
talked about, and I haven't much learning to speak of either. But I
get so interested in some of the folks in it, and the Lord's dealings
with them. I've been thinking about Moses ever since Mr. Parker
preached about his not being allowed to go into the promised land. It
seems as if I was acquainted with him. It must have been a powerful
disappointment to him, after he had trudged along so many
years--turned back, too, when he'd got a good piece on his way; then
it was so aggravating, to get up there and look over into the nice
green meadows, and know that if he hadn't let out his temper so, he
might have gone in with the rest of them. I declare, I got so
exercised thinking it over when I was a working my butter, that I
forgot to salt it."

"I think I should like to study Shakespeare," said Mrs. Berkeley.
"Where does one find such knowledge of human nature as there? Where
else are such rare gems to be had by digging?"

"In my book," said Mrs. Lewis, "the Psalmist says, 'It is more to be
desired than gold, yea, than much fine gold;' and another says, 'It
is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart.' Is not that
a knowledge of human nature that excels even Shakespeare?"

"It strikes me a variety would suit all," said another. "George
Eliot's writings are full of power, and deep enough for me, I assure
you. We might read some of her books, then some of Dickens and
Thackeray, then occasionally a book of poems; Longfellow and
Whittier, or, if we want to study harder, there is Mrs.