fternoon drove over to the pond in his "one-horse
shay." He made his visit, not unacceptable, on the poor Stowers
household, and then crossed lots to the place where he saw poor Michael
hoeing. He told Michael that he was charged with Sabbath breaking, and
bade him plead to the charge. And poor Mike, like a man, plead guilty;
but, in extenuation, he said that there was nothing to eat in the
house, and rather than see wife and children faint, he had cut a hole in
the ice, had put in his hook again and again, and yet again, and coming
home had delighted the waiting family with an unexpected breakfast. The
good parson made no rebuke, nodded pensive, and drove straightway to the
deacon's door.

"Deacon," said he, "what meat did you eat for breakfast yesterday?"

The deacon's family had eaten salt pork, fried.

"And where did you get the pork, Deacon?"

The Deacon stared, but said he had taken it from his pork-barrel.

"Yes, Deacon," said the old man; "I supposed so. I have been to see
Brother Stowers, to talk to him about his Sabbath-breaking; and, Deacon,
I find the pond is his pork-barrel."

The story is a favorite with me and with Fausta. But "woe," says the
oracle, "to him who goes to the pork-barrel before the moment of his
need." And to that "woe" both Fausta and I say "amen." For we know that
there is no fish in our pond for spendthrifts or for lazy-bones; none
for people who wear gold chains or Attleborough jewelry; none for people
who are ashamed of cheap carpets or wooden mantelpieces. Not for those
who run in debt will the fish bite; nor for those who pretend to be
richer or better or wiser than they are. No! But we have found, in our
lives, that in a great democracy there reigns a great and gracious
sovereign. We have found that this sovereign, in a reckless and
unconscious way, is, all the time, making the most profuse provision for
all the citizens. We have found that those who are not too grand to
trust him fare as well as they deserve. We have found, on the other
hand, that those who lick his feet or flatter his follies fare worst of
living men. We find that those who work honestly, and only seek a man's
fair average of life, or a woman's, get that average, though sometimes
by the most singular experiences in the long run. And thus we find that,
when an extraordinary contingency arises in life, as just now in ours,
we have only to go to our pork-barrel, and the fish rises to our hook or
spear.

The s