“Well, sir,” said Knicks, “I can tell you I never met a Christian but my mother; and I cannot believe or listen to you say she went to destruction, but to heaven, if there is such a place.  And again:  if I were to embrace any religion, it would be the Roman Catholic religion; for it is the only honest religion there is.  Father often brought Methodist and Presbyterian ministers to make mother give up her’n; but it was no go.  She always treated them civil; but they had the worst of the argument, I can tell you.  They brought their Bibles, and she her’n; and then they would set to, and be at it, till at last they were obliged to give up.  The only difference between her Bible and theirs is, that her’n contained some fourteen or fifteen books more than the Protestant Bible.  The end of it was, that father turned with mother, and had the Irish priest O’Shane to attent him afore he died.  Mother got us all baptized too.”

“Indeed!” carelessly ejaculated our official.  “I must call and see that Bible of yours some day.”

This conversation—­which happened a few days before the death of our emigrant widow—­between his neighbor “Knicks” and our official shows what an enlightened gentleman he was.  Since his elevation to office, he also got promotion to another situation, which, though not so lucrative as that of poormaster, in the course of time, by proper management, promised to come to something.  In a certain school house in his vicinity, where the faithful were too poor, too irreligious, or too pernicious to hire a preacher, our official held forth every Sunday, and several evenings on the week days, at prayer meetings, protracted meetings, and other roaring exercises.  And to do him credit, his nasal accent and piercing shrill voice made him a capital substitute for the hired regular Methodist preacher.  He could be heard for nearly a mile distant calling on the brethern and sistern to come to heaven.

“O, let us come!” he would cry; “we were made and intended for heaven.  I see the shining seats, I see the crystal fountains, I see the Lord sitting on the throne.  Come, sisters, come!  I could embrace ye all for the Lord’s sake.  I could hide ye in my bosom.  O!  O!”

There were some whose faith was not strong enough to place implicit reliance on the veracity of this very enlightened “minister of the word;” but the great majority believed, or pretended to believe, and expressed their faith by crying out, “Glory! glo-ry! glo-r-y!”

If a more particular or personal description of our official is required, we can state, from minute observation, that Mr. Van Stingey was of the middle size, of thin, cadaverous appearance, short neck, snake head, with lank, sandy hair, nose flat and simex-like, small eyes, one of which he kept continually shut, as if he supposed himself a match for the poor whom he had to deal with by keeping one “eye skinned,” reserving the other for some important office in church or state,