solemnized the union of two immortal souls. The train
of withered mourners, the hoary bridegroom in his shroud, the pale
features of the aged bride and the death-bell tolling through the
whole till its deep voice overpowered the marriage-words,--all marked
the funeral of earthly hopes. But as the ceremony proceeded, the
organ, as if stirred by the sympathies of this impressive scene,
poured forth an anthem, first mingling with the dismal knell, then
rising to a loftier strain, till the soul looked down upon its woe.
And when the awful rite was finished and with cold hand in cold hand
the married of eternity withdrew, the organ's peal of solemn triumph
drowned the wedding-knell.

THE MINISTER'S BLACK VEIL.

A PARABLE.[1]

The sexton stood in the porch of Milford meeting-house pulling lustily
at the bell-rope. The old people of the village came stooping along
the street. Children with bright faces tripped merrily beside their
parents or mimicked a graver gait in the conscious dignity of their
Sunday clothes. Spruce bachelors looked sidelong at the pretty
maidens, and fancied that the Sabbath sunshine made them prettier than
on week-days. When the throng had mostly streamed into the porch, the
sexton began to toll the bell, keeping his eye on the Reverend Mr.
Hooper's door. The first glimpse of the clergyman's figure was the
signal for the bell to cease its summons.

[Footnote 1: Another clergyman in New England, Mr. Joseph Moody, of
York, Maine, who died about eighty years since, made himself
remarkable by the same eccentricity that is here related of the
Reverend Mr. Hooper. In his case, however, the symbol had a different
import. In early life he had accidentally killed a beloved friend, and
from that day till the hour of his own death he hid his face from
men.]

"But what has good Parson Hooper got upon his face?" cried the sexton,
in astonishment.

All within hearing immediately turned about and beheld the semblance
of Mr. Hooper pacing slowly his meditative way toward the
meeting-house. With one accord they started, expressing more wonder
than if some strange minister were coming to dust the cushions of Mr.
Hooper's pulpit.

"Are you sure it is our parson?" inquired Goodman Gray of the sexton.

"Of a certainty it is good Mr. Hooper," replied the sexton. "He was to
have exchanged pulpits with Parson Shute of Westbury, but Parson Shute
sent to excuse himself yesterday, being to preach a funeral sermo