expected happened, the young widow, who had never cared for her elderly first husband, fell desperately in love with her lodger, who was not very slow to respond, for her grace, beauty and allurements attracted, bewildered, and bedeviled him, so that he forgot or deplored his plighted vows to his good little cousin. To shorten the story, the cousin released him. In a few days the curate and the widow were married. Ann was utterly neglected, ignored, and forgotten. Her lessons, which, before the advent of the handsome curate, had been the widow's care, were now suspended. Time went on, and these ardent lovers cooled off. Not that their youth or health or beauty waned; not at all; but that their illusions were fading. Yet, as often happens, as love cooled, jealousy warmed to life--each one conscious of indifference toward the other, yet resented a corresponding indifference in the other. As years went on, six children were born to this unhappy pair, whom not the Lord but the devil had joined together, and with their increasing family came increasing poverty. It was hard to support a growing household on one hundred pounds a year. "In the seventh year of their marriage, in desperation, the Reverend Raphael advertised his ability and readiness to 'prepare young men for college.' He obtained but one pupil one Alfred Whyte, the son of a retired brewer. You perceive that he had the same surname with the young Ann, but it was spelled differently--with a _y_, instead of an _i_, as her name was. He seems to have been a fine, hearty, good natured young fellow, about twenty years of age, with a short, stout form, a round, red face, and dark eyes and hair. He hated study, but loved children, animals, and out-door sports. It was in the course of nature that he should fall in love with the fair fifteen-year-old beauty Ann White. "She returned his affection because since her father's death he was the only human being who had ever been kind to her. The first year that he spent at the parsonage was the happiest year Ann had ever known. Before it drew to an end, however, their happiness was clouded. The young man had over and over again assured the girl of his love for her, and at last he asked her to marry him. She consented. Then he wrote and asked permission of his father to wed the curate's step-daughter. "The answer might have been anticipated. The purse-proud retired brewer, who had dreams of his only son and heir going into Parliament and marrying some impoverished nobleman's daughter, wrote two furious letters, one to his son, commanding his immediate return home, and another to the Rev. Raphael Rosslynn, reproaching him with having entrapped his pupil into an engagement with his pauper step-daughter. "We can judge the effect of these letters upon the peace of the parsonage.