turning a corner near a
picturesque farmhouse, he smilingly observed, "This is our church."

"It's a very old one, and looks much more picturesque in the distance.
Shall we have a view a little farther off?"

"St. Mary's," said he; "1694 is the date--"

"St. Mary's?" said I. "Fancy! And what is the date--1694?"

"It has some fine tablets, Mr. Hawkins, if you'd like to look in--"

"I don't care for tablets," I answered; "if I go to church it is not
to stare at tablets."

At last my host summed up courage to say,--

"Mr. Hawkins, this is our little harvest festival of thanksgiving, and
I should not like to be absent."

"Why on earth, Mr. Goodman," I answered, "did you not say that before?
Let us go in by all means. I like a good harvest as well as any
Christian on earth."

The pew was the family pew--the _whole family pew_, and nothing but
the family pew; bought with the estate, with the family estate; and
was in an excellent situation for the congregation to have a fine view
of Mr. Goodman. Indeed, his cheery face could be seen by everybody in
church.

I must say the little edifice looked very nice, and had been adorned
with the most artistic taste by the young ladies of the Vicarage
and the Hall. Mr. Goodman was "the Hall." There were bunches of
neatly-arranged turnips and carrots, with potatoes, barley, oats,
and mangel-wurzel, and almost every variety of fruit from the little
village; and every girl had barley and wheat-ears in her straw hat.
It was an affecting sight, calculated to make any one adore the young
ladies and long for dinner.

The sermon was an excellent one so far as I could pronounce an
opinion, but would have been considerably improved had it been
three-quarters of an hour shorter. It contained, however, the usual
allusions to harvest-homes, gathering into barns, and laying up
treasures; which last observation reminded Mr. Goodman that he had
_left his purse at home_, and had come away without any money.

I saw him fumbling in his pocket. Now, thought I, the time has come
for showing my devotion to Mr. Goodman. As soon, therefore, as he
had whispered to me, I handed him all I had, which consisted of a
five-pound note. He gratefully took it, and although about five times
as much as _he_ intended to give, when the bag was handed to him in
went the five-pound note.

I knew my friend was chuckling as soon as we got into his family pew
at the way in which he had lured me step by step, till