Deacon Pratt felt a little conscious and awkward, at encountering the Rev. Mr. Whittle.  It was not the fish that caused the first any concern.  Fifty times had he met and gone by his pastor, running about with a perplexed and hungry look, when his own hands, or chaise, or wagon, as the case might be, contained enough to render the divine’s family happy and contented for a week.  No compunctions of that sort ever troubled the deacon’s breast.  But, he had missed the afternoon’s meeting the last Sabbath, a delinquency for which he felt an awkwardness in accounting, while he saw its necessity.  The salutations passed as usual, the one party thinking intently on the absence from service, and the other of the sheepshead.  Now, it happily occurred to the deacon to invite his pastor also to partake of the fish.  There was enough for all; and, though no one on Oyster Pond was much in the habit of entertaining at dinner, it was by no means unusual for the parishioners to have their pastor for a guest.  This lucky invitation so occupied the parties that nothing was said about an occurrence so very unusual as the deacon’s absence from “meeting” the “last Sabba’ day afternoon.”

By these simple means the party at table consisted of the deacon himself, Mary, Roswell Gardiner, and the Rev. Mr. Whittle.  The fish was excellent, being so fresh and so skilfully prepared; and Mary was highly complimented by all who ate of it, for her share in the entertainment.  But Mary Pratt seemed sad.  She had not yet recovered from the melancholy feelings awakened by the recent death and funeral; and then her thoughts recurred, with few interruptions, to the long voyage of Roswell, and most especially to the unhappy state of religious belief in which he would undertake so hazardous an expedition.  Several times had she hinted to the clergyman her desire that he would ‘talk to Roswell;’ but the good man, though well-enough inclined, had really so much to do in ‘providing,’ that it was not a very easy matter for him to go beyond the beaten track, in order to probe the consciences of particular individuals.  He promised fairly, but always forgot to perform; and in this he imitated closely the example set him by his parishioners, in reference to his own salary.

Roswell Gardiner, therefore, remained in his unbelief; or, what was tantamount to it, under the influence of a set of opinions that conflicted with all that the church had taught since the time of the apostles—­at least so thought Mary, and so think we.

On the contrary, the pastor and the deacon were particularly gay, for men of their habitual sobriety.  Although those were not the days of temperance, par excellence, neither of the guests was what might be termed even a moderate drinker.  For a novelty in a sailor, Roswell Gardiner seldom touched anything but water, while the other two took their rum and water; but it was in moderation, as all the gifts of God should be used.  As for the intemperate cry which makes