he old feeling returned; he grew weak in his resolution,
and, turning to the Goblin, said, "Just come in and have one drink
with me--the last one." Immediately the imprudent Nick was thrown
violently to the ground, the houses trembled, and their shutters
rattled from their fastenings. The whole town seemed falling into
ruins. Nick was startled into wakefulness, and a sweet, cheery voice
called, "Nick, Nick, are you going to lie in bed all day? It is a
bright Christmas morning and the children are half frantic to show you
the presents Santa Claus has brought them."

"My dear, are you sure I am Nick Baba, the village shoemaker, and that
you are his wife?"

"Certainly. Why ask such a question?"

"Then I have had a frightfully vivid dream," explained he to his wife,
"for I seemed to have fallen back into my old habits of intemperance
and to have dragged you down with me, where I had hoped never to see
you again."

"Nick, dear, it was but a dream. Remember you took your last drink
just three years ago; do you feel strong enough yet to resist it?"

"Yes, I do; and now that I am sure it was only the nightmare, I will
hasten and join you and the children at breakfast."

* * * * *

A TRIP TO CURRITUCK.

On a Monday, in the month of November, we started on our annual trip
to the marshes of North Carolina. We left Washington armed and
equipped, and met, at Norfolk, four of our party who had left New
York the previous week. They had been spending a few days in Princess
Anne County, quail shooting, where they had labored hard with no
success to speak of--the birds were few, the ground heavy, and they
quit that locality, perfectly willing never to return to it. They
arrived in Norfolk heartily sick of that excursion. We got the traps
all together and made a start for our favorite sporting grounds; where
the merest tyro may do satisfactory execution, and come in at night
with a keen appetite for the next day's sport.

While waiting for the quail party to return, we strolled through the
old city of Norfolk, with its quaint houses and curiously-winding
streets, and wandered into the old-time burial place surrounding St.
Paul's church.

[Illustration: ST. PAUL'S CHURCH, 1739.]

This is one of the oldest places of worship in the United States; it
was erected before the Revolution, and is built of imported brick,
laid alternately, red and black. The figures, giving the date of
erection,