The Minister's Mistake

The sunset was painting all the forcst paths with gold: the mossy boles of the old trees glowed in the level light, as if tuey had becu carved out of glittering bronze, and the carkt vioei aïonjj the stone wall caught new spleudor i'rum the last rayp, while the silvery-white fringe of wild elematis swung froni the dead thoin buches, and liere and there a bird, perched high up against thu deep, vivid blue heavcns, uttered its shrill, clear veeper note ; and Mr. Caryl, walkiog home through the Westbrook woods, thought what a beautiful world this was that God had made. Mr. Caryl was only LM, and had been in the Westbrook parish for three months. iSot long, but long enough to discern, by expenence, that there were thoros as well as roses in a country pastor'i lile. It had seemed so beautiful and ideal when he looked at it through the medium of his fancy, standing on the threnhold of the theological seminary. It was beautiful still ; but the ideality had all gone out of it. His mother met hiin on the door step of the parsonage- a 1 risk, spectacled littlo dame, in a turned black silk, with frills of neatly-darned and violet ribbons in her can. Wel!, Charle.-," she said, cheorily ' here s a whole slateful of calis for you.' ir i ,,aryl's couutenance "rather feil lie had been anticipating sn evening I.; the wood tire, with the list nuwber o tHackwood's Magazine. "Calis?" he repeated; "what are they. and where are they?" He went into the little prlor as Ik spoke- the parlor where the coveted wooc fire was leaping and flashing on the brighl andirons, and a shaded lamp was airead} burning on the table among his piled-up books and papers- and took up the little ¦Uta. "The Widow Corsett," he read, adding, sotto voce, "that woman agaio ! She Laf died once a week regularly ever since I have been in Westbrook." '(Jharles!" mildly reproved his mothor. It aa fact," asserted the young clergymmo. "I don't think people ought to coniound hypoehondria and religión in that blindiold sort oí a way. She'd a deal better send for the doctor, and leave off scolding that wretched adopted daughter ,„1 wonlt o- that's settled! VVhat! 'Meet Deacon Daley and old Lapt. Hartwick at rowlersville Four Coi - nors at 9:30 o'clock to-morrow.' Ñow I wonder why people oan't agree about their own boundary lines without calling in the clergyman of the parish as umpire between thcni." "Dissension is such a dreadful thing among your flock, Charles," said his mother. "So is scarlet fcver or small-pox," said Mr. Caryl, rather curtly; "but, all the same, 1 don't sec how 1 can be held spotisioie lor either one or the otbor , , the manuscript of your last sermot to old Miss Dadd to read.' liut I haven'i any manuscript to read- only half a dozer memoranda. I preached eutirely externpore last Sunday." "Couldn't you write it off froui memory said Mrs. Carjl, piteously. "The poor old lady t-coms so anxious. She said the sermón impressed her so deeply." Really, mother, I think that's a little unreasonable," said the pastor. "Suppose every old lady ia the parish were to require me to write out a twelve-page sermón for her especial benefit! 'Give Miss Hitte list of hjmns for next Sunday.' Yes, I'll do that- as well now as any time. 'Speak to Mrs. Prune'a Sarah? Who is Mn 1 rune s i Sarah? And what ara I to speak tonerabout, l'dlike to know" deiuanded tne young clergyman, in a sort of mild dosperation. n "D,0D'L }:ou knw?" explainod Mr's. taryl. It g Mrs. Prune that livcs down by the saw-mill, in the big white house witn the poplar trees in front of it. And lts her step-dauchter that's come hom trom the third situation, and all or account of her ribbons in her hat. and hc pnde in her own pretty face " "And Tm to speak to her, eh?" 6aid the young pastor. "Yes; you are to speak to her," said nis ruotlior. i "IJsh.all DothK of the sort," de clared Mr. Caryl, with somo emphasis. u . j' y.uTmU!it' Charles!" pleadod the old lady. "It's ,„ tl,e line of your regular dutv. Mr. Caryl hesitated, and wrinkled his brow ín sore perplexity. "Do you think so?" said he 'Tm sure of it," declarod tlie nld lady. ConscientiousDcss was one of the strong points of Mr. Caryl's oharactcr. He took up lus hat. "If it's got to bodone," said he, desperately, the sooner the better." "But you will stop for your tea first, Charlea?" urged Mrs. Oaryl. Hot cornbread and strawberry jam." n'1 í' BÍP nothÍDK!" saiJ Mr. Cary!. Don t frut, little inother; t wou't take me long to 8]cak to Sarah." And he diwappearod witli a laugh. As it happened, he never bef'ore had beon called upoo to practiee this particular branch of hls profession, pleading witli the rebelhnu8 lamba of his flock wlio thought more of their bright eyes than they did of their hyuin-hooks, and he turned the matter over n his mind as he walked along thc frosty woodland path, where tho young moon cast a fitful, evaoeHcent light, and the dead leaves sent up a taint odor beneath his feet. "Speak to Sarah," he muttered to himMli, not without a certain pereeption of tne ndiculous side of tlio matter. "And ¦vllat :í1" I to Hay to her, I wonder?" lie knocked softiy at the big front door of the Prune mfttuioQ. A shuffling, uutidjr cirl of 14 or 15 opened it, hiding be hiod a .shawl and a funge of curl-papers" Is Mrs. Pnme ut homo?" said he. ' iNü, she ain't," rctorted the gïrL Mr. Caryl paused. He seareely knew WTOl question to ask ncxt. "Is Sarah at home ?" he demanded, after a lude. "Miss Sarah?" "Well, 1 huppose it can hardly be iMr. Niruh, ' said the young clergynian, halfHüiilingly. "Yes, Misa Sarah, of cour.-c. " _ ' bhe s at home," said the giil, ungraciously opcnmg the door a little wider. '( ;ime this afternoon. Settin' in the parlor. Walk in." And without further ceremony Caryl iiiund himself nshered into a semi-dark Rpartment, where a tall, slender young t-anty of' fMeefa sofmnera or so cat befoie the fire, in a plain black dress, with tl;.' simplest of cuffs aDd collars, and a single blue ribbon fastencd into the thick, dart braids of her hair- a perno so enuiuly difforont froni what he exptctcd (o seo tliat he síoppcd short in some pernlexuy- "la this- ahem!- Sarah ?" he asked. ( 1 am Sarah Fieldine," (-he responded. 'I have called- to speak to you," said he, with a desperate rallyiDg of his verba] torces. "Perhaps, Sarah, you may know who I am?" "No, I dun't," said the girl, in soiue surpribe. "I am Mr. Caryl, the pastor of the parísh. ',,am. naPPJ' to niake your acquaintance," said the girl, putting out one slim hand in the easiest possible manner. The pastor hesitated. This was not what he had looked for at all. "Of course- of course," aaid he. "But bow does it happen, Sarah, ttmt you are at home again so soon ?" vo you mean at Westbrook? "YV'here else sbould I mean?" retortrd Mr. Caryl, crustily- for he feit that if Ue ouce abandomd his tone of authority he was lost. -'Why didn't you stay wberc you wero ?' ' Sllj colored up to the roots of her liair. 11e could perceive that, even ia the uncnrtain riso and fall of the firc-light. "1 did not like the positron," said she in a low voice. ''But you ouht to like it," said Mr. Caryl. "You are not aware of all the circumstnnces," pleaded Sarah. "I am quite aware," said Mr. Caryl, severely, ''that vauity is the root of' all your evils. " "Vanity?" The crinjson was deeper than ever now onbrow and temple a uhe half rose. "Yes, vanity!" impressively reittrated the clei-Kyman. "Be silent, ityou plesse, young woman, and hear me out. You have a ecrtain amnunt of personal attraclions, wliicli apiioais to liave turned your head. Kemeuihür that beauty is but skin dcep. Cali to niiiid fnquently the ancient adage that 'bandaome u that bandsome does.' After all you are not Mary Queen of Soot, or Cleopatra. Now take mv advice, Sarah - " .uut i nave not askcu tor ït ! she cried out, in chokcd accents. "Xo ruatter whether you have or not," said Mr. Caryi, ealmly. It is iny business to volunteer good counsel, and yours fo receive it. I repeat, Sarah, takc niy advioe, and go back to your last place. Apologize humbly for your short coming; tel] the woman of the house that you will Htrive to aniend your conduct for the future, and endeavor to deserve her approval. Put awayyourwilly ribbons, bows and brooches" - witli a stern glance at the poor, little agate breastpin that gli.stened at the girl's throat - "and Icave the vaiu acoessories of' dress to your botters, always remcmbering that the ornament of a roeok and nuiet spirit-" But just at. this point the young clerpytuan s oration was abruptly checked by the enterance of Mts. Prune beraelf, shawlod and lionneted, and breathing fast from the haste bhe had made. In one hand she held a prodigious brown cotton unibrella ; with the other she drajjgod forward the untidy damsel of the shawl and eurlpapers. 'Hére be is, Mr. Uaryl, luresliu i.-!" bawlod mn. Pruns, who did not possess the nioat excellent thing in a woruan. "i low and gentle vuice." "A lazy, good-fornothing, stuck-up, vain tninx, as ntedn't suppo.se as I'm going to do for her nn longer! You necdn't hang back, Sarah; it ain't no good! Here she is, Mr. Cary! - here's Sarah I" lhe young pastor stared in auiazcmcnt, "ís that Sarah?" said be. "That's Sarah," panted Mrs. Prono. "Aud who h thi.i?" he demanded, tuming to the slim, dark-eyed girl wilh tlie blue ribbou and agate brooch. "That's my niece, Sally Fielding, as has been governess of a f'amily up in Maine for three years," said Mm. Prune. "And she's down ucre on a visit now- coiae tliis very afternoon. Hain't you been introduced yet? Mr. Caryl, luy niece, Sallie. Sallie, this 'cro's - " But before she could finish the words of her formal ntroduction tlie clergyiuan hud ruado a nervous grasp fr his bat. "I - I have been the victim of a misunderstanding," stammered he. "This young person told me that she was Sarah." "So she is," said Mrs. Prune. "But sheain't the Sarah as is to bo spoken to." "I beg a tlipusand appologies," hm Mr. Caryl, feeling the cold sweat drip from evpry pore. Miss Fielding burst out laughing. ( "Tlicy are cheerfully granted," said t-he. "No, don't go away, Mr. Caryl," holding out her hand as he was turning to depart. "I have learned that you posses ut least the virtne of franknexs. Suall we not be friends?" And Mr. Caryl looked into the darkblue eyes and said, "Yes." He f'orgot all about the hot oorn bread and strawberry jam at home, and stayed to tea at Mrs. ] 'rune's, while the right Sarah cscaped the íntended lecture and tho wrong Sarah presided in a most gracious and winning nianner behind the cups and saucera, and oíd Mrs. Caryl laughed heartily when her son cxplained the curious renconter fo her later in the evening. "Jiut why did she leavo her situation- the wrong Sarah I mean?" said si, "Because the young heir of' the house mailo love to hcr," said Mr. Caryl; and I don't wonder at it. She's tbe prettiest Ule creature I ever saw in tny life." "Perhaps, then," said Mrs. Caryl, doubtfully, "your advico wasn't so very inuch aniiss, after all." "Certaiuly it was," said Mr. Caryl, with spirit. The oíd lady lookcd hharply at hiiu. '"Charles, "said she, "I do believeyour're truck with lier. " "NonseBse!" said Caryl, turning red. But just three months later, when the ¦morí was ut the f uil, und sluighmg parties ho rage, Mr. Caryl brought MUe FieldÏQg homo froni a singing school in hia ncw cutter, and told her a secret on the way - that he toved hor. And so the wrong Snrah was the riht Sarah, after all. '!cn. (rant lias rin D00ID4 ui' aliout $'.),- MM ;i ycar.