it is sad to think of. They will
either give up the profession or die, or degenerate into very
commonplace men before many years."

"Unless they have some charm against it--which may very well be," said
Mr Elliott, quietly.

"I see you do not agree with me. Take yourself for instance, or rather,
let us take your predecessor. He was a good man, all say who knew him
well, and with time and study he might have proved himself a great man.
But if ever a man's life was a struggle for the bare necessaries of
life, his was, and the culpable neglect of the people in the regular
payment of his very small salary was the cause of his leaving them at
last. He has since gone West, I hear, to a happier lot, let us hope.
The circumstances of his predecessor were no better. He died here, and
his wife broke down in a vain effort to maintain and educate his
children. She was brought back to Merleville and laid beside her
husband less than a year ago. There is something wrong in the matter
somewhere."

There was a pause, and then Mr Greenleaf continued.

"It may seem an unkindly effort in me to try to change your views of
your future in Merleville. Still, it is better that you should be in
some measure prepared, for what I fear awaits you. Otherwise, you might
be disgusted with us all."

"I shall take refuge in the thought that you are showing me the dark
side of the picture," said Mr Elliott.

"Pray do. And, indeed, I am. I may have said more than enough in my
earnestness. I am sure when you really come to know our people, you
will like them notwithstanding things that we might wish otherwise."

"I like you already," said Mr Elliott, smiling. "I assure you I had a
great respect for you as the children of the Puritans, before ever I saw
you."

"Yes, but I am afraid you will like us less; before you like us better.
We are the children of the Puritans, but very little, I daresay, like
the grave gentlemen up on your shelves yonder. Your countrymen are, at
first, generally disappointed in us as a people. Mind, I don't allow
that we are in reality less worthy of respect than you kindly suppose us
to be for our fathers' sakes. But we are different. It is not so much
that we do not reach so high a standard, as that we have a different
standard of excellence--one that your education, habits, and
prepossessions as a people, do not prepare you to appreciate us."

"Well," said Mr Elliott, as his friend paused.

"Oh! I h