counted it one of his choicest mercies."

"Yes, Vesta; but Satan is full of wiles. I have not your disposition,
and when I look at these shelves I am distinctly conscious that there is
no such glass in Elmerton, perhaps none in the State. In china Aunt
Marcia surpasses us,--naturally, having all the Tree china, and most of
the Darracott; I have always felt that we have less Darracott china than
is ours by right,--but in glass we stand alone. At times I feel that it
may be my duty to give away, or sell for the benefit of the heathen, all
save the few pieces which we actually need."

"Surely, Sister Phoebe, you would not do that!" said Miss Vesta,
aghast. "Think of all the associations! Four generations of cut glass!"

"No, Vesta, I would not," said Miss Phoebe, sadly; "and that shows the
snare plainly, and my feet in it. We are perishable clay! Suppose we put
the cream in the gold-ribbed glass pitcher to-night, instead of the
silver one; it will go better with the gold-sprigged cups. After all,
for whom should we display our choicest possessions if not for our
pastor?"

Little Mr. Bliss, the new minister, was not observant, and beyond a
vague sense of comfort and pleasure, knew nothing of the exquisite
features of Miss Phoebe's tea-table. His wife did, however, and as she
said afterward, felt better every time the delicate porcelain of her
teacup touched her lips. Mrs. Bliss had the tastes of a duchess, and was
beginning life on a salary of five hundred dollars a year and a house.
Doctor Stedman and Mr. Homer Hollopeter, too, appreciated the dainty
service of the Temple of Vesta, each in his own way; and a pleasant
cheerfulness shone in the faces of all as Diploma Crotty handed round
her incomparable Sally Lunns, with a muttered assurance to each guest
that she did not expect they were fit to eat.

"Phoebe," said Doctor Stedman, "I never can feel more than ten years
old when I sit down at this table. I hope you have put me--yes, this is
my place. Here is the mark. You set this table, Vesta?"

Miss Vesta blushed, the blush of a white rose at sunset.

"Yes, James," she said, softly. "I remembered where you like to sit."

"You see this dent?" said Doctor Stedman, addressing his neighbor, Mrs.
Bliss; "I made that when I was ten years old. I used to be here a great
deal, playing with Nathaniel, Miss Blyth's brother, and we were always
cautioned not to touch this table. It was always, as you see it now, a
shining mirr