“I will teach you by-and-by. Pass we now to the third class, or those whose faculties and desires are fairly balanced, who suffer neither from ennui on the one side nor anxiety on the other. Your friend, Mrs. May, is a perfect example of this happy organization; her whole soul is in her house and family; she has no wish beyond the well ordering of her dwelling, the propriety of her dress, her table, her manners and conversation, and the education of her son, and her faculties are fully equal to, and not greater than her wishes; thus she is always calmly busy and serenely happy.” He now arose to take leave, and Sophie took the lamp to light him to the door. When they got there he held out his hand to bid her good night; he caught her hand, held it a moment while his glance sought her eyes, met them, and he murmured in a low earnest voice, “Sophie.” She withdrew her hand, dropped her eyes, and a chill crept over her frame. He whispered “good night,” set his hat upon his head, and walked off. His tall thin figure was soon seen stalking up and down the undulating hills that descended to the river. Two or three days passed and Miss Churchill saw no more of the minister. “I wonder if he will come to-night,” had been the secret thought of Sophie as evening approached each day; and half with dread, half with hope, she listened for his knock. His last visit had been on Wednesday. Saturday evening came. Sophie had completed her week’s work, and was sitting at the window with her hands folded on her lap, and looking out into the moonlit scene. The moon was now full, and the broad river and the boundless bay were reflected in its light and seen between the clumps of intervening trees. At last upon the path issuing from the clump of trees on the left, was seen the tall figure of the minister. Sophie withdrew from the window, and soon after Mr. Withers was admitted by old Cumbo, who had not yet retired to bed. “Well, Miss Churchill,” said he, advancing to her side, “have you succeeded in discovering those faculties, whose corrosion in idleness is giving you so much distress?” “I cannot flatter myself, sir, with the idea of possessing any faculties above the simple discharge of plain duties.” “Then you are quite happy in knitting, sewing, and watching old Cumbo milk the cows and weed the garden; and you never wish these occupations varied except by rest and recreation?”