ily by and by,"--at which the parson fairly blushed,--"you
must let me send over some little gift for your first boy; it sha'n't be
one that will harm him, though it comes from our heathen side of the
world."

"There's a gift you might bestow, Maverick, that I should value beyond
price."

"Pray what is it?"

"Live such a life, my friend, that I could say to any boy of mine,
'Follow the example of that man.'"

"Ah," said Maverick, with his easy, infectious laugh, "that's more than
I can promise. To tell the truth, Johns, I don't believe I could by any
possibility fall into the prim, stiff ways which make a man commendable
hereabout. Even if I were religiously disposed, or should ever think of
adopting your profession, I fancy I should take to the gown and
liturgy, as giving a little freer movement to my taste. You don't like
to think of that, I'll wager."

"You might do worse things," said the parson, sadly.

"I know I might," said Maverick, thoughtfully; "I greatly fear I shall.
Yet it's not altogether a bad life I'm looking forward to, Johns: we'll
say ten or fifteen more years of business on the other side; marrying
sometime in the interval,--certainly not until I have a good revenue;
then, possibly, I may come over among you again, establish a pretty home
in the neighborhood of one of your towns; look after a girl and boy or
two, who may have come into the family; get the title of Squire; give
fairly to the missionary societies; take my place in a good big
family-pew; dabble in politics, perhaps, so that people shall dub me
'Honorable': isn't that a fair show, Johns?"

There was a thief in the candle, which the parson removed with the
snuffers.

"As for yourself," continued Maverick, "they'll give you the title of
Doctor after a few years!"--The parson raised his hand, as if to put
away the thought.--"I know," continued his friend, "you don't seek
worldly honors: but they will drift upon you; they'll all love you
hereabout, in spite of your seriousness (the parson smiled); you'll have
your house full of children; you'll be putting a wing here and a wing
there; and when I come back, twenty years hence, if I live, I shall find
you comfortably gray, and your pretty wife in spectacles, knitting
mittens for the youngest boy, and the oldest at college, and your girls
grown into tall village belles;--but, Johns, don't, I beg, be too strict
with them; you can't make a merry young creature the better by insisting
u