"Oh, Hannah I that tongue of thine is more murderous than Cyrus' scythed chariots! Here is your urn! I put it away last night, because I saw from the newspapers that a quantity of plate had recently been stolen. Poor Hannah! don't scowl so ferociously because I have spoiled your little tragedy. I believe you are really sorry to see the dear old thing safe in defiance of your prophecy." Mrs. Lindsay came downstairs laughing heartily, and menacing irate Hannah with the old-fashioned urn, which had supplied three generations with tea. "Is that the sole cause of the disturbance?" asked the master, stooping to pat Bioern, who was dancing a tarantella on the good man's velvet slippers. Somewhat crestfallen the woman seized the urn, began to polish it with her apron, and finally said sulkily: "I beg pardon for raising a false alarm, but indeed it looked suspicious and smelled of foul play, when I found the library window wide open, two chairs upside down on the carpet,--mud on the window-sill, the inkstand upset,--and no urn on the sideboard. But as usual I am only an old fool, and you, sir, and Miss Elise know best I am very sorry I roused you so early with my racket." "Did you say the library window wide open? Impossible; I distinctly recollect closing the blinds, and putting down the sash before I went to bed. Elise, were you not with me at the time?" "Yes, I am sure you secured it, just before bidding me goodnight." "Well--no matter, facts are ugly, stubborn things. Now you two just see for yourselves, what I found this morning." Hannah hurried them into the library, where a fire had already been kindled, and her statement was confirmed by the disarranged furniture, and traces of mud on the window-sill and carpet. The inkstand had rolled almost to the hearth, scattering its contents _en route_, and as he glanced at his desk the minister turned pale. The secret drawer which opened with a spring had been pulled out to its utmost extent, and he saw that the tin box he had so carefully locked the previous night was missing. Some _MSS_ were scattered loosely in the drawer, and the purse filled with gold coins, a handsomely set miniature, and heavy watch chain with seal attached, all lay untouched, though conspicuously alluring to the cupidity of burglars. Bending over his rifled sanctuary, Mr. Hargrove sighed, and a grieved look settled on his countenance. "Peyton, do you miss anything?" "Only a box of papers." "Were they valuable?" "Pecuniarily no;--at least not convertible into money. In other respects, very important." "Not your beautiful sermons, I hope," cried his sister, throwing one arm around his neck, and leaning down to examine the remaining contents of the drawer. "They were more valuable, Elise, than many sermons, and some cannot be replaced." "But how could the burglars have overlooked the money and jewellery?" Again the minister sighed heavily, and, closing the drawer, said: