ot fascinating: he had a long, narrow head, thatched
with straight, scanty hair; little, protruding eyes, and a complexion of
a bright unvarying red--in fact, he was very like a prawn.

It was soon evident that the Rev. Samuel Foster was helplessly smitten
by Miss Raymond, or, as Forrester elegantly expressed it, "hard hit in
the wings, and crippled for flying!" Helplessly, I say, but not
hopelessly; for that wicked little creature, acting perhaps under
private orders, gave him all sorts of treacherous encouragement. I never
saw any human being evolve so much caloric under excitement as he did,
except one young woman whom I met ages ago--(a most estimable person;
her Sunday-school was a model)--whose only way of evincing any emotion,
either of anger, fear, pain, or pleasure, was--a profuse perspiration.
Mr. Foster not only got awfully hot, but electrical into the bargain.
His thin hairs used to stand out distinctly and in relief from his head
and face, just like a person on the glass tripod. Charley suggested
insulating him unawares, and getting a flash out of his knuckles, if not
out of his brain. In truth, it was piteous to see the struggle between
passion and nervousness that raged perpetually within him. He would
stand for some time casting _lamb's_-eyes at the object of his
affections--to the amorous audacity of the full-grown sheep he never
soared--then suddenly, without the slightest provocation, he would
discharge at her a compliment, elaborate, long-winded, Grandisonian, as
a raw recruit fires his musket, shutting his eyes, and incontinently
take to flight, without waiting to see the effect of his shot. If he had
spent half the time and pains on his sermons that he did on his
small-talk (I believe he used to write out three or four foul copies of
each sentence previously at home), what a boon it would have been to his
unlucky audience on Sundays!

Why is it that the great proportion of our pastors seem to conspire
together with one consent to make the periodical duty of listening to
them as hard as possible? Can they imagine there is profit or pleasure
in a discourse wandering wearily round in a circle, or dragging a slow
length along of truisms and trivialities? In the best of congregations
there can be but few alchemists; and, without that science, who is to
extract the essence of Truth from the _moles incongesta_ of crass
moralities?

To persuade or dissuade you must interest the head or the heart. I
admi