said, "It is often thus; just the very last
delicate morsel, carefully cherished, falls on the floor, when it is
actually stuck on your fork."

"And you are positively making a jest of it!" said the Pastorin to her
husband; "you men never seem to have any idea of the great difficulty
of preparing a good dinner in the country, and how pleasant it is when
all is prepared; and it seemed quite a happy chance that my mother sent
me some chesnuts."

"I am not making a jest of it; on the contrary, it is very annoying to
me."

"The greatest annoyance to you is, assuredly, that any person here is
capable of being a thief. They cannot, however, enjoy the fruits of
their theft, I feel sure," interrupted Edward.

"By no means: I am so material in my nature, that I should have liked
excessively to have myself enjoyed a fine, well browned, crisp, roast
goose;--and as for the thief? If the goose had been stolen from any one
else, the man would have equally been a thief, but it would vex me less
than now, when I have lost my own goose and the giblets too."

"We have still got the giblets," said the maid, in a soothing tone.
They all laughed, and at that moment the letter carrier came up the
stair. He brought the country newspaper. The Pastor hastily looked over
the clerical intelligence, and there, sure enough, he saw that the
living in Odenwald, for which he had applied, had been given away to
another clergyman, a much younger man, and one of the new fashioned
stiff necked species.

"You see here is another empty hook," said the Pastor, giving the
newspaper to his wife, and pointing out the paragraph to her.

Along with the newspaper was a letter from their uncle, the President,
announcing the appointment of another to the living, but that there was
great anxiety to induce our Pastor to take a charge in the Capital.

"I shall refuse, and remain here," said the Pastor, abruptly.

The cook of the Parsonage, who went to the inn in order to buy some
meat to replace the missing goose, had two pieces of news to spread
abroad which had no great connexion certainly, but which she mixed up
together in the most singular manner: the stolen goose, and the Pastor
staying in the village.

The bells rung out in soft melodious peals in the bright light; this
ringing on Christmas-day is appropriately termed a "lullaby." When the
Pastor again entered the church he found the villagers assembled, and
crowded together from the door of the Par