“He is a Pennsylvania Westfall,” concluded the Reverend Campbell, his breath bated and his air impressed, “he is a Pennsylvania Westfall, and extremely rich of this world's goods. Doctor Ely desires this post for him with all his heart; he believes, moreover, that his old friend, our excellent president, who--and heaven be thanked!--is less than a scant two weeks away from his inauguration, will be glad to pleasure him in this regard. You might, sir, hint to that eminent statesman and soldier how his friend, Doctor Ely, would profit by this selection, going, as in that event he will, to St. Augustine, to be chaplain for the then Governor Westfall.” “And my husband, too, would be called to Dr. Ely's place in Philadelphia,” gurgled the magpie wife; “it's a much richer church than the one here.” There, then, was the cat out of the bag; I had been guessing for some moments in the dark, as to why the Reverend Campbell should so zealously be fishing for office when he ought to be fishing for souls. The magpie wife granted me a glint of his secret. It did not swell my fund of respect for the Reverend Campbell, a fund nothing rotund as things stood. “You should see the General,” I said at last. “These are not my affairs; I would not presume, wanting his invitation, to advise with him concerning them. You should see him; or, if you will, you might wait until Van Buren arrives.” “Ah, yes; the coming Secretary of State,” remarked the Reverend Campbell, while his thick lips munched unpleasantly. “Will Mr. Van Buren make the Florida selection?” I was driven to say I thought not; the General himself had been once Governor of Florida; therefore, he might believe he was the one better qualified to make such appointment. Beholding the Reverend Campbell in the throes of doubt, tipping on his chair, and looking with his black clothes not a little like a crow hesitating on a fence-rail as to whether or no he will plump down among the sprouting corn, I suggested,--to relieve myself, I fear--that now he was come, he might better go in to the General and offer his request. I entertained no thought of success for him; I had not forgotten the fate in that connection of the pursy Duff--Duff of the ripe, ripe nose. But I aimed at a riddance of the Reverend Campbell and his leering, bubbling helpmeet; and I was not so loyal to the General as to prevent me from earning my own release by betraying him into their talons. “Do you deem it the part of sagacity,” said the Reverend Campbell, following a thoughtful pause, “to crave this boon at once?”