looks; for there wa'n't a crimp nor a frill
about her that wa'n't jis' _so_; and her frock was white as the driven
snow, and she had her bunnet all trimmed up with white ribbins; and
all the fellows said the old doctor had stole a march, and got the
handsomest gal in the parish.

"Wal, arter meetin' they all come 'round the parson and Huldy at the
door, shakin' hands and laugh-in'; for by that time they was about
agreed that they'd got to let putty well alone.

"'Why, Parson Carryl,' says Mis' Deakin Blod-gett, 'how you've come it
over us.'

"'Yes,' says the parson, with a kind o' twinkle in his eye. 'I thought,'
says he, 'as folks wanted to talk about Huldy and me, I'd give 'em
somethin' wuth talkin' about.'"

[Illustration: Tailpiece, Page 078]

[Illustration: The Widow's Bandbox, Page 079]

THE WIDOW'S BANDBOX.

"Lordy massy! Stick yer hat into the nor'east, Horace, and see 'f ye
can't stop out this 'ere wind. I'm e'eny most used up with it." So spake
Sam Lawson, contemplating mournfully a new broad-brimmed straw hat in
which my soul was rejoicing. It was the dripping end of a sour November
afternoon, which closed up a "spell o' weather" that had been steadily
driving wind and rain for a week past; and we boys sought the shelter
and solace of his shop, and, opening the door, let in the wind
aforesaid.

Sam had been all day in one of his periodical fits of desperate
industry. The smoke and sparks had been seen flying out of his
shop-chimney in a frantic manner; and the blows of his hammer had
resounded with a sort of feverish persistence, intermingled with a
doleful wailing of psalm-tunes of the most lugubrious description.

These fits of industry on Sam's part were an affliction to us boys,
especially when they happened to come on Saturday: for Sam was as much a
part of our Saturday-afternoon calculations as if we had a regular deed
of property in him; and we had been all day hanging round his shop,
looking in from time to time, in the vague hope that he would propose
something to brighten up the dreary monotony of a holiday in which it
had been impossible to go anywhere or do any thing.

"Sam, ain't you coming over to tell us some stories to-night?"

"Bless your soul and body, boys! life ain't made to be spent tellin'
stories. Why, I shall hev to be up here workin' till arter twelve
o'clock," said Sam, who was suddenly possessed with a spirit of the most
austere diligence. "Here I be up to my nec