teller at the state fair of Vermont, and, after having paid that “seer of future events” a fee of ten dollars, she found his prediction was false.  For she was told she would be married within two years, and to a neighboring minister; but now it was twenty-six months since, and the only single minister around lately got married to Miss Longface, a very ignorant and unamiable person.  But there was no taste, or judgment, or discernment nowadays in men, as this fact clearly proved.  “Thunderation on them!” said she, in a rage.

Such were the ideas that were passing through the brain of Amanda one Sunday morning, as she lounged on the sofa of her sitting room, when, upon her looking out towards the lawn in front, she perceived Paul and Bridget kneeling by a seat, at the foot of a large wild plum tree that stood at the end of the green plot in front of the house, and that had its branches bent within a few feet of the ground by the embraces of a rich grape vine that for years had grown around it and impeded its development.  For a few moments she watched the movements of the orphans as they smote their breasts at the “Confiteor,” or bowed their heads at the “Sanctus,” accompanying the priests who, they knew, in thousands of churches, were engaged in offering sacrifice to God; and reading the “Prayers at Mass” out of the Key of Heaven manual of devotion.

Instead of admiring this sincerity of devotion, or giving thanks to God for the grace of fidelity and piety that his mercy had vouchsafed to these children of grace, Amanda, as if she could not endure the sight of such happiness, or mortified at the miscarriage of her vain attempts to rob these innocent hearts of the treasure of true faith and piety which they possessed, still pale with rage in consequence of her ruminations about her own misfortune, the ill-tempered old maid there and then resolved to try another and a severer plan to effect her purpose of proselytism.

“Confound yer impudence, ye little Popish paupers!” she said to herself.  “I shall soon make ye give up these superstitious practices.  Paul, Paul, dear,” she said, tapping at the window, “come in out of that, come in Bridget, ye little fools; the sun will spoil yer features, cover ye with tan.”

“Yes, miss, in a few minutes; we are just finishing,” said Paul.

Ever since Paul came to this house, in obedience to the advice of his mother, as well as in accordance with the prescriptions of the excellent religious education he received at home in the diocesan seminary, he always read the “Prayers at Mass,” accompanied by his sister Bridget, first; and after having read them with her at home, he went across the brook to Reuben Prying’s, where his brothers lived, and taking them into the fields, or to the barn if the weather did not answer, he read for them the same devotions, causing them to answer “Amen” after the end of each prayer, and reading to them a chapter of the catechism for committal to memory.