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his inn, wished him a good journey, and then returned to the ehureh to receive his payment from the parson.
The latter, as soon as he had performed the service, came with his stole and book towards the innkeeper.
"Friend," said he, "go down upon your knees."
The other, surprised at this preamble, observed that there was no occasion for such ceremony in receiving fifteen-pence.
"Truly they are not mistaken," said the parson to himself, "this man cannot be in his right senses." Then assuming a tone of soft insinuation, "Come, my good friend," said he, "place your trust in God; he will have pity on your eondition."
At the same time he puts the Bible on the other's head, and begins his prayer. Nicholas, in anger, pushes away the book; declares he cannot stay to be trifled with, guests being waiting for him at his house; that he wants his fifteen-pence, and has no occasion for prayers.
The priest, irritated at this, calls to his congregation, as they were going out of church, and desires them to seize the man, who was raving.
"No, no! I am not mad; and, by St. Corneille, you shall not trick me in this manner. You engaged to pay me, and I will not leave this place till I get my money."
"Seize him! seize him!" cried the priest.
They accordingly fastened upon the poor devil; one taking hold of his arms, another of his legs, a third clasping him round the middle, while a fourth exhorted him to be composed. He makes violent efforts to get out of their clutches, swears and foams with rage, like one possessed,—but all in vain; for the parson puts the stole round his neck, and reads quickly his prayer from beginning to end, without excusing him a single word: after which he sprinkles him copiously with holy water, bestows on him a few benedictions, and lets him loose.
The unlucky wight saw elearly that he had been made a dupe. He went home, overwhelmed with shame and vexation at the loss of his fifteen-pence; but then he had in lieu of them, got a prayer and benedietion.
———
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE.
Walden was playing on his flute in a slow and pensive strain, when the mournful cries of a child, and the complaining voice of a woman, struck his ears. "Oh, merciful God!" exclaimed the poor creature, "hear with compassion the moans of my unhappy babe!"
