At last the sermon was over, the ordinance administered, and the benediction pronounced. Brother Wade did not know what it was best for him now to-do. He never was more at a loss in his life. Mr. N--descended from the pulpit, but he did not step forward to meet him. How could he do that? Others gathered around and shook hands with him, but he still lingered and held back. "Where is Brother Wade?" he at length heard asked. It was in the voice of the minister. "Here he is," said two or three, opening the way to where the farmer stood. The preacher advanced, and extending his hand, said-- "How do you do, Brother Wade? I am glad to see you. And where is Sister Wade?" Sister Wade was brought forward, and the preacher shook hands with them heartily, while his face was lit up with smiles. "I believe I am to find my home with you?" he said, as if that were a matter understood and settled. Before the still embarrassed brother and sister could reply, some one asked-- "How came you to be detained so late? You were expected last night. And where is Brother R--?" "Brother R--is sick," replied Mr. N--, "and so I had to come alone. Five miles from this my horse gave out, and I had to come the rest of the way on foot. But I became so cold and weary that I found it necessary to ask a farmer not far away from here to give me a night's lodging, which he was kind enough to do. I thought I was still three miles off, but it happened that I was much nearer my journey's end than I had supposed." This explanation was satisfactory to all parties, and in due time the congregation dispersed; and the Presiding Elder went home with Brother and Sister Wade. How the matter was settled between them, we do not know. One thing is certain, however,--the story which we have related did not get out for some years after the worthy brother and sister had rested from their labors, and it was then related by Mr. N--himself, who was rather (sic) excentric in his character, and, like numbers of his ministerial brethren, fond of a good joke, and given to relating good stories. THE IRON WILL. "FANNY! I've but one word more to say on the subject. If you marry that fellow, I'll have nothing to do with you. I've said it; and you may be assured that I'll adhere to my determination." Thus spoke, with a frowning brow and a stern voice, the father of Fanny Crawford, while the maiden sat with eyes bent upon the floor. "He's a worthless, good-for-nothing fellow," resumed the father; "And if you marry him, you wed a life of misery. Don't come back to me, for I will disown you the day you take his name. I've said it, and my decision is unalterable." Still Fanny made no answer, but sat like a statue. "Lay to heart what I have said, and make your election, girl." And with these words, Mr. Crawford retired from the presence of his daughter.