arkins
_is_ his name. Gus Wehle said he'd bet the two was one. Well, I must
drive this varmint off afore he gits his chickens."

CHAPTER XXXVI.

THE SIN OF SANCTIMONY.

Just at this point arrived Mr. Hall, whom I have before described as the
good but callow Methodist preacher on the circuit. Some people think
that a minister of the gospel should be exempt from criticism, ridicule,
and military duty. But the manly minister takes his lot with the rest.
Nothing could be more pernicious than making the foibles of a minister
sacred. Doubtless Mr. Hall has long since come to laugh at his own early
follies, his official sanctimoniousness, and all that; and why should
not I, who have been a callow circuit-preacher myself in my day, laugh
at my Brother Hall, for the good of his kind?

He had come to visit Sister Cynthy Ann, whose name had long stood on the
class-book at Harden's Cross-Roads as a good and acceptable member of
the church in full connection. He was visiting formally and officially
each family in which there was a member. Had he visited informally and
unofficially, and like a man instead of like a minister, he would have
done more good. But he came to Samuel Anderson's, and informed Mrs.
Anderson that he was visiting his members, and that as one of her
household was a member, he would like to have a little religious
conversation and prayer with the family. Would she please gather
them together?

So Julia was called down-stairs, and Jonas was invited in from the
kitchen. The sight of him distressed Brother Hall. For was not this New
Light sent here by Satan to lead astray one of his flock? But, at least,
he would labor faithfully with him.

He began with Mr. Samuel Anderson. But that worthy, after looking at his
wife in vain for a cue, darted off about the trumpets of the Apocalypse.

"Mr. Anderson, as head of this family, your responsibility is very
great. Do you feel the full assurance, my brother?" asked Mr. Hall.

"Yes," said Mr. Anderson, "I am standing with my lamp trimmed and ready.
I am listening for the midnight shout. To-night the trumpet may sound. I
am afraid you don't do your duty, or you would lift up your voice. The
tune and times and a half are almost out."

Mr. Hall was a little dashed at this. A man whose religious conversation
is of a set and conventional type, is always shocked and jostled when he
is thrown from the track. And he himself, like everybody else, had felt
the Adventist