a _squire_. But how he came to be one, and, indeed,
what is meant by the title in his case, are questions which would
puzzle the wisest heads in the neighborhood. There are, also, in
almost every part of the country, sundry men whom everybody calls
_uncle_. Each one of them is _everybody's_ uncle in general, and
nobody's uncle in particular. _Deacons_, too, scores of them, may be
found, who have no other claim to the title than this--that they are
_called_ so, by nearly all the men, women and children in the parish.

But Mr. Bissell, as I said before, was a _real_ deacon. The title had
been given to him by the little church in his native parish. And he
was a good man, too. Some people make up their religion into a sort of
a cloak, which they regard as too nice for every day use. They put it
on and wear it every Sunday, and take it off every Monday morning, and
keep it off until Saturday night. You never get a sight of their
religion, when they are about their business. They wear long faces, to
be sure. But a face as long as a broom handle is not worth much to
Uncle Frank, as a sign of a man's piety. People may say what they
will about religion--and in this country, especially, where everybody
can think for himself, and very few get other folks to think for them,
there must be a great many different notions as to what religion
is--but people may say what they will about it, I think more of
_actions_ than I do of _words_. I don't care if a man's creed reaches
as far as from the Battery to Grace Church. If he is not fair in his
dealings, and a good neighbor, in every respect, I don't think much of
his religion.

The piety of Deacon Bissell did not all fly off in words, as a glass
of soda water flies off in foam. He was a good man on Saturdays and
Mondays, as well as on Sundays, at home as well as at church, in his
worldly business as well as out of it.

Deacon Bissell had a brother, who did a large business in Boston, and
was supposed to be very rich. Rich people, however, sometimes get a
little cramped in their business, and find it hard to get along.
Deacon Bissell's brother happened, at one time, to need some thousands
of dollars more than he had at command. He knew that the deacon had
saved quite a snug sum from the profits of his small trading, and so
he went to him, and asked him if he would put his name to a note of
some ten or twelve thousand dollars. The deacon had never done
anything of the kind before. But su