tless
fellow, got more invitations to supper than any other man in the
settlement. As for the inn-keeper, he was a merry little man, who made
everybody laugh, and was held in high esteem by all the good vrows
around Nyack.

Now that the supper was ready, there was a general exchange of vrows,
for it was not considered etiquette to sit at table with your own wife
during one of these feasts. Then the Dominie invoked God's blessing on
the bounties He had spread before them, thanked Him for the bountiful
harvest, and for the love He had shown these happy people. He then
proceeded to carve the boar's head, while every man and woman present
went to enjoying the feast.

When supper was over and the table cleared away the men took to their
pipes and discussed their crops, and the women discoursed of carding,
and spinning, and housewifery in general. Then there was a dance around
the apple-basket, and a dance in which every man kissed every other
man's vrow, and in which the Dominie joined, and was as jolly as any of
his flock. And they danced to the music of a fiddle, played by Lame
George, who lived up in the mountain. Then the Dominie told a number of
amusing stories, and the school-master sang them several of his best
songs, and cider and ale was drank.

And while the pleasantry was at its highest, a loud knock was heard at
the door. The revelry ceased for a moment. There was the postmaster's
boy, bearing a letter with several curious stamps on it. Hanz was
overjoyed. He shook the boy's hand, and then scanned over the letter.
"God pless mine poor poy, Titus!" he exclaimed. "He wrotes dat ledder.
Yes, he does; mine poor poy Titus does;" and he struck his hands on his
knees, and laughed with joy. "He ton't forgets his old fadder. He be's a
goot poy, mine Titus." And he shook hands with the Dominie and the
inn-keeper. Indeed, he seemed so completely unmanned that he was
powerless to open the letter. Then he took a candle in his right hand,
and again scanned and scanned the superscription. "Sumthin' goot in dat
ledder. Mine poor poy Titus writes him!" he ejaculated, in a subdued
tone.

[Illustration: Then tears gushed into her eyes and moistened her pale
cheeks. Page 102.]

During all this time, for it seemed long to Angeline, she became pale
with anxiety. Then tears gushed into her eyes and moistened her pale
cheeks. But they were tears of joy, not sorrow--the wealth of that pure,
honest heart now beating so violently in