ertain sway.

When Hiram stepped foot in the metropolis, he cut off these diverting
elements. He decided, and he had long and carefully considered it, that
in the strife in which he was soon to enter, he should require all his
time, all his faculties. For this reason, he determined to accept Mr.
Eastman's offer of board and lodging at his house, albeit his wife was
shrewish and generally disagreeable. He no longer permitted the gay
throng in Broadway to move his nerves or excite his senses. And thus all
these secondary impulses and emotions and sentiments yielded to the one
main controlling purpose.

Yes, Hiram Meeker, I feel a painful interest in your situation. I see
that, once entered on your career, there will be no departure or
deviation or pause in it. As in metal poured into the mould, which,
while it remains in a fluid state, is capable of being converted into
other forms, but which, after a time, fixes and becomes
unchangeable,--so, in the life of every human being, there is a period
when the aims and purposes are fixed and the character is settled
forever. With some, this comes earlier, with others later; but it comes
inevitably to all of us.

It seems to me Hiram is fast approaching this epoch, and this is why my
interest in him becomes painful. For after this--but I will not
anticipate.

CHAPTER II.

The first thing which Hiram undertook after getting settled at his
boarding place, was to decide what church to attend. This was a matter
which required a great deal of deliberation, and week after week he
visited different churches of his own faith.

Mr. Bennett, with his family, went to an Episcopal church. He took the
liberty, one day, of flatly advising his cousin to cut Presbyterianism,
and go with him.

'The fact is, Hiram, I can't stand the blue lights; they make a
hypocrite of you, or a sniveller. Now, I don't profess to be a good
person, but I think, after all, my neighbors know about where to find
me. As to the Episcopalians, they give us good music, good prayers, and
short sermons. They don't come snooping about to find out whether you go
sometimes to the theatre, or if any of your family practise the damnable
sin of dancing at parties. They mind their own business, and leave you
to mind yours.'

'What _is_ their business?' asked Hiram.

Mr. Bennett, taken a little aback, hesitated a moment; then he replied,
'Why, to preach and read the service, and perform church duties
generally.'