like, I will relate it; the
event is said really to have happened."

"Do tell it, uncle!" said John Wyndham. "I like true stories."

"There was a poor, but very handsome and excellent young minister, a
licentiate, I think they call it, when a young man is not yet settled in
a church; to support himself until he was appointed to a congregation,
he took the place of tutor in a rich burgomaster's family, where he fell
in love with the pretty, amiable, and mischievous daughter. She fully
reciprocated his feelings, and as her parents approved of the match, she
gave the bashful young man all the encouragement she could: she felt
very sure as to the nature of his sentiments towards her, but
notwithstanding all she could do, the young man _would not propose_--as
she rightly concluded, the thought of her superior wealth deterred him;
and meantime the foolish fellow became pale and melancholy, as if he
seriously meditated going into a decline. So the merry maiden thought,
'This will never do; I must take strong measures, or the poor soul will
mope himself to death.' Christmas Eve came round, and the assembled
family were joking about the presents they expected. 'Put your slippers
outside your door to-night, Dominie,' said the father, calling him by
the title commonly applied to clergymen in Holland, and among the
descendants of the Dutch in the State of New York, 'I have no doubt your
friend Caterina has something to put in them.' 'Oh, it is not worth
while--no one cares for me, sir.' 'But, indeed, we do,' replied little
Caterina; 'I have something for you, but I am not at all sure you will
condescend to accept it. 'Have you indeed, Miss Caterina? I shall feel
highly honored; I give you my word that whatever it is, I will accept it
joyfully.' 'Very well: only please to remember this, when you see what
is in your slippers.'

"The next morning, when the young Dominie opened his door, full of
eagerness to see what was in store for him, lo and behold! his slippers
had vanished. 'I might have known that the light-hearted, mischievous
maiden was only laughing at me--and well I deserve it--fool that I am to
dream about one so much above me!' Thus trying to scold himself into
stoicism, the young man went over to the breakfast-table, where all were
gathered together except Caterina. 'A very merry Christmas! but my dear
Dominie, how sober you look!' 'Do I, indeed? that is very improper; but
I've been thinking of going away--I had better