ing with alacrity to pull the bell and order the favoured beverage.
"I thought," continued he, "I'd just look in upon you as I passed, and taste your home-brewed ale. I've been to call on Mrs. Graham."
"Have you indeed?"
He nodded gravely, and added with awful emphasis—
"I thought it incumbent upon me to do so."
"Really!" ejaculated my mother.
"Why so, Mr. Millward?" asked I. He looked at me with some severity, and turning again to my mother, repeated—
"I thought it incumbent upon me!" and struck his stick on the floor again. My mother sat opposite, an awe-struck but admiring auditor.
"'Mrs. Graham,' said I," he continued shaking his head as he spoke, "'these are terrible reports!' 'What sir?' says she, affecting to be ignorant of my meaning. 'It is my—duty—as—your pastor,' said I, 'to tell you both everything that I myself see reprehensible in your
