"'Twelve and a half cents,' said the deacon, slowly raising his spectacles from his nose.
"'No!' said I. 'Twelve and a half cents! Why, I have had the horse all day.'
"'That is my price,' said the deacon.
"'For a horse and chaise, all day?' said I. 'Why, deacon, do charge me something that I aint ashamed to pay you.'
"'That is my regular price, and I can't charge you any more.'
"I remonstrated with him, and tried to persuade him to take twenty-five cents—but, no. I appealed to Mrs. White; she said the 'deacon hadn't ought to take more than the horse and chaise was worth.' However, I induced him to take eighteen and three-quarter cents, but he was uneasy about it, and said he was afraid he was imposing on me.
"The next morning I was awakened at day-dawn—there was a man, they said, who wanted to see me on pressing business, and could not wait. I dressed in a hurry, wondering what was the cause of the demand for college-students. I went down, and there stood the deacon, looking as if his last hour were come. 'Mr. Abel,' he said, 'I have passed a dreadful restless night, and I couldn't stand it after the day broke—here's your six and a quarter cents—I hadn't ought to have charged you more than my usual price.' I was angry at the old fellow for waking me up, but I could not help laughing, too."
"''Twas very ugly of you, Mr. Abel, to persuade me to take so much,' said he; 'you're welcome to the horse and chaise whenever you want it, but twelve and a half cents is my usual price.'"
"Now," said Mr. Hubbard, "he is like the Portuguese devils; when they are good, they are too good—I should distrust that man."
"He is close to a farthing," said Abel, "but he is as honest as the day. Why he has the reputation of a saint.
