“Certainly, sir, my business is serving the Lord, and there is no business like it in the universe.  It pays good dividends, brings me no worry, insures me a good standing in the best society; feeds me on the fat of the land, fills my heart with peace and makes me an heir to a kingdom, a robe and a crown.  Bankruptcy and bad debts never stare me in the face, and every draft I draw is honored at the bank.  Thus, I ’hinder nobody,’ and am able to ‘help every body.’”

“Where do you reside?” I asked.

“On Pisgah’s top”—­and his face fairly shone as he repeated it—­“on Pisgah’s top.  At first I lived down in the valley among Ezekiel’s dry bones, and used to help the multitudes sing—­

  “’Could we but climb where Moses stood,
    And view the landscape o’er: 
  Not Jordan’s stream nor death’s cold flood,
    Should fright us from the shore.’

“But I moved on and up to my present residence, and now I sing—­

  “’From Pisgah’s top, the promised land,
    I now exult to see: 
  My hope is full, oh, glorious hope,
    Of immortality.’

“But I beg your pardon, sir; am I crowding you?”

“Crowding me? not a bit of it.  I trust I shall always have room for company like you.”

“Thank you, sir, thank you.  I’m only a wedge”—­with a merry laugh—­“but I try to fill every opening the Lord shows me.  Excuse me but how far are you going?”

“I get off at Albany,” I replied.  He looked at me as if taking my measure, and, after a moment he said: 

“I hope you are not a member of the legislature.”

“No, sir,” I said, “I’m a Methodist.”

“Give me your hand.  I am so glad to know you are going in the opposite direction.  A man may go to heaven by way of the legislature, but I would as soon think of going where I could get cholera in order to secure good health, as expect to serve God by becoming a member of the legislature.  Ah, here is Albany!  Good day, sir; don’t forget the wedge.  And if you will, I wish you would remember the watchword—­’Hinder nobody—­Help everybody.’”

PRINCE EDWIN AND HIS PAGE.

A tale of the Anglo-Saxons.

CHAPTER I.

On a certain high festival, which was set apart by Saxon monarchs for receiving the petitions of the poor, and the appeals of such of their subjects as had any cause of complaint, the great King Athelstane sat enthroned in royal state, to listen to the applications of all who came to prefer their suits to him.