Then come letters--one, two, three: "The bishops are friendly;" "The Presiding Elder has promised to do the best for us that he can;" "The influential Doctor Bim has praised our missionary sermon, and Brother Click, the Secretary, has applauded our Charge's large subscription to the _Advocate_;" "Our character has passed even the severe approval of the great theologian, Steep;" "Take courage, my dear, and hope for the best!" The membership, meanwhile, are dropping in by couples to say kindly words to our mother, whom they pity, and it is rumored that they are collecting a purse to help us on our way. At last our father returns, striving to hide his solicitude in a smile, for no fate to which they could consign himself would scathe that grisly servant of his Master; but for his family, who do not altogether share the spirit of his mission, he has a little fear. He kisses us all in order, from the least to the biggest, commencing and ending with our mother, and playfully prevaricates as to our "appointment," the name of which we noisily demand, until his wife says timidly, "Where do they send us, Thomas?" He tries to smile and trifle, but the possibility of her discontent gives him so great pain that we children perceive it. "How would you like to go to Greensburg?" "Not _Greensburg_!" she says, with a sudden paleness. "Isn't it a good circuit?" he says smilingly; "they paid the last preacher three hundred dollars, and his marriage fees were a hundred more. They say he saved fifty dollars a year!" "Oh, Thomas, I thought I had fortitude, but this--" "Is only to test your faith," he cries. "A poor preacher's wife should be willing to go anywhere--even to Greensburg; but that is not our appointment, dear; we move to Swan Neck."