church, but Mr. Davis asked
this privilege. His father had been a strict Episcopalian, and he had
learned in his early years to love that church. Our people were not loth
to grant his request, and I think this Christmas will never be
forgotten.

We took supper at Hal's with Aunt Phebe, who had come with her husband
to pay us, what Mr. Dayton termed, "a young visit." He had perfect
knowledge of the English language, and power to express himself not only
with words, but with a most characteristic combination of them. He said
his wife felt anxious that he should be on amicable terms with her
consanguineous friends, but he expected we should attribute less of
goodness to him than to her, for "Phebe Ann" was a remarkable woman.
"And this," he added, "is why she appreciates me."

Ben tried in vain to interest him more than a few moments at a time,
even though he displayed his young stock and invited him into the
broom-corn room.

It was not till he espied a Daboll's Arithmetic in Hal's studio that he
became interested in the belongings of that house, albeit Hal and Mary
had shown him the statuary they so much prized. He looked at the
statuettes and remarked to Hal:

"You do that better than I do, but what after all does it amount to? It
never will save a man from sin; never break a fetter, or dash away a
wine-cup. But what do you know about figures? Do you think you know very
much?"

"Not as much as I wish," Ben answered, as Hal smiled at the plain
question.

"I thought so," said Mr. Dayton; "and the very best thing you can do,
young man, is to come down to my house, or perhaps I can come up here,
and gather some really useful and necessary information about figures.
It will make a man of you. I guess you're a pretty good boy, and you
only need brightening up a little."

Hal replied: "I wish you would, Uncle Dayton; that is just what I should
like."

"Well," said he, "it wouldn't do you any hurt to come with him."

"I should come, too," said Mary.

"Come right along," was the reply. At supper time he said he preferred a
simple dish of bread and milk, which he seemed to enjoy greatly, and all
the niceties Mary had prepared were set aside unnoticed.

"Do you know what day you were born on, Ben?" he said.

"I know the day of the month, sir, but not the day of the week."

"Tell me the day of the month and year and I will tell you the day of
the week."

"September 6, 1828."

"Let's see," said the philosopher,