luckiest thing in the world. They always made a little
festival of that evening at the Rev. Ambrose Eveleth's, in honor of his
canonized namesake, and because they liked to have a good time. It
came this year just at the right moment, for here was a distinguished
stranger visiting in the place. Oxbow Village seemed to be running
over with its one extra young man,--as may be seen sometimes in larger
villages, and even in cities of moderate dimensions.

Mr. William Murray Bradshaw had called on Clement the day after his
arrival. He had already met the Deacon in the street, and asked some
questions about his transient boarder.

A very interesting young man, the Deacon said, much given to the
reading of pious books. Up late at night after he came, reading Scott's
Commentary. Appeared to be as fond of serious works as other young folks
were of their novels and romances and other immoral publications. He,
the Deacon, thought of having a few religious friends to meet the young
gentleman, if he felt so disposed; and should like to have him, Mr.
Bradshaw, come in and take a part in the exercises.--Mr. Bradshaw was
unfortunately engaged. He thought the young gentleman could hardly find
time for such a meeting during his brief visit.

Mr. Bradshaw expected naturally to see a youth of imperfect
constitution, and cachectic or dyspeptic tendencies, who was in training
to furnish one of those biographies beginning with the statement that,
from his infancy, the subject of it showed no inclination for boyish
amusements, and so on, until he dies out, for the simple reason that
there was not enough of him to live. Very interesting, no doubt, Master
Byles Gridley would have said, but had no more to do with good, hearty,
sound life than the history of those very little people to be seen in
museums preserved in jars of alcohol, like brandy peaches.

When Mr. Clement Lindsay presented himself, Mr. Bradshaw was a good deal
surprised to see a young fellow of such a mould. He pleased himself with
the idea that he knew a man of mark at sight, and he set down Clement in
that category at his first glance. The young man met his penetrating and
questioning look with a frank, ingenuous, open aspect, before which
he felt himself disarmed, as it were, and thrown upon other means of
analysis. He would try him a little in talk.

"I hope you like these people you are with. What sort of a man do you
find my old friend the Deacon?"

Clement laughed. "