“‘Good evening, Mrs. White,’ said I, for the old lady was sitting on the steps knitting.

“‘Mercy’s sake, deacon,’ said she, ’put down your newspaper; don’t you see Mr. Johnson?’

“’The deacon did not even give me a nod until he had scrutinized the condition of the horse and chaise, and then he said, ‘How are you?’

“’Not a screw loose in me, or the horse and chaise either, for I had two girls with me, and I’m courting one of them for a quarter, so I drove very carefully.  I am in a hurry now, tell me what I am to pay you?’

“‘Twelve and a half cents,’ said the deacon, slowly raising his spectacles from his nose.

“‘No!’ said I.  ’Twelve and a half cents!  Why, I have had the horse all day.’

“‘That is my price,’ said the deacon.

“‘For a horse and chaise, all day?’ said I.  ’Why, deacon, do charge me something that I aint ashamed to pay you.’

“‘That is my regular price, and I can’t charge you any more.’

“I remonstrated with him, and tried to persuade him to take twenty-five cents—­but, no.  I appealed to Mrs. White; she said the ’deacon hadn’t ought to take more than the horse and chaise was worth.’  However, I induced him to take eighteen and three-quarter cents, but he was uneasy about it, and said he was afraid he was imposing on me.

“The next morning I was awakened at day-dawn—­there was a man, they said, who wanted to see me on pressing business, and could not wait.  I dressed in a hurry, wondering what was the cause of the demand for college-students.  I went down, and there stood the deacon, looking as if his last hour were come.  ‘Mr. Abel,’ he said, ’I have passed a dreadful restless night, and I couldn’t stand it after the day broke—­here’s your six and a quarter cents—­I hadn’t ought to have charged you more than my usual price.’  I was angry at the old fellow for waking me up, but I could not help laughing, too.”

“‘’Twas very ugly of you, Mr. Abel, to persuade me to take so much,’ said he; ’you’re welcome to the horse and chaise whenever you want it, but twelve and a half cents is my usual price.’”

“Now,” said Mr. Hubbard, “he is like the Portuguese devils; when they are good, they are too good—­I should distrust that man.”

“He is close to a farthing,” said Abel, “but he is as honest as the day.  Why he has the reputation of a saint.  Harriet says she wishes he wore a long-tailed coat instead of a short jacket, so that she could hang on and get to heaven that way.”

“My sister saw Mrs. White not long ago, and complimented her on her new bonnet being so very becoming to her.  ‘Now I want to know!’ said Mrs. White; ‘why I thought it made me look like a fright.’

“‘But what made you get a black one,’ said Harriet, ’why did you not get a dark green or a brown one?’

“‘Why, you see,’ said Mrs. White, ‘the deacon’s health is a failin’; he’s dreadful low in the top knots lately, and I thought as his time might come very soon, I might as well get a black one while I was a getting.  We’re all born to die, Miss Harriet; and the deacon is dwindlin’ away.’”