attentively regarding Mr. Leighton for a few minutes, he suddenly produced his gold pencil case and snatched up a bible. Perceiving that I observed the movement, he whispered he was going to make a note of the sermon; but instead of that—as I sat next him I could not help seeing that he was making a caricature of the preacher, giving to the respectable, pious, elderly gentleman, the air and aspect of a most absurd old hypocrite. And yet, upon his return, he talked to my aunt about the sermon with a degree of modest, serious discrimination that tempted me to believe he had really attended and profited by the discourse.
Just before dinner my uncle called me into the library for the discussion of a very important matter, which was dismissed in few words.
"Now Nel," said he, "This young Huntingdon has been asking for you: what must I say about it? Your aunt would answer 'No'—but what say you?"
"I say yes, uncle," replied I, without a
