ise; if the contrary, censure."

"I admit the justice of the view you take, with that limitation; and I
trust it is with a sense of such accountability I have written," said
I. "May I, then, flatter myself with the hope that you will grant me
your imprimatur?"

"You have it," said he; "and may no critic regard your book with less
indulgent eyes than mine. But what name do you give the bantling?"

"Oh," said I, "I have not concluded, I fancy that one name is nearly
as good as another."

"I don't know about that," said the Rev. Increase. "A couple who
brought their child lately to me to be baptized did not think so,
at any rate. I inquired what was the name chosen, when, to my
astonishment, I heard sounds which resembled very much one of the
titles bestowed upon the arch enemy of mankind. Supposing that my ears
deceived me, I inquired again, when the same word, to my horror, was
more distinctly repeated. 'Lucifer!' said I, to myself, 'impossible!
I cannot baptize a child by such a name.' I bent over once more, and
a third time asked the question. The answer was the same, and repeated
louder and with an emphasis, as if the parents were determined to have
that name or none. By this time my situation had become embarrassing,
for there was I, in the presence of the whole waiting congregation,
standing up with the baby in my arms, which, to add to my
consternation, set up a squall as if to convince me that he was
entitled to the name. My bachelor modesty could stand the scene no
longer; so, hastily dipping my fingers in the font, and resolving he
should have a good name, as opposite as possible to the diabolical
one so strangely selected, I baptized the infant George Washington.
I thought the parents looked queerly at the time, but the rite was
performed, the baby had got an excellent name, and I was relieved. But
conceive, if you can, my confusion, when, after service, the father
and mother came into the vestry, and the latter bursting into tears,
exclaimed: 'Oh, thir, what have you done? Ith a girl, ith a girl! and
you've called her George Wathington! My poor little Luthy, my dear
little Luthy!' Alas! the mother lisped, and when I asked for the
name, meaning to be very polite, and to say, Lucy, sir, in reply to
my question, she had said, 'Luthy, thir,' which I mistook for Lucifer.
What was to be done? I consoled the afflicted parents as well as I was
able, and promised to enter the name in the parish registry and town
r