BY THE AUTHOR OF 'PEEPS FROM A BELFRY, OR THE PARISH SKETCH-BOOK,' ETC.

THERE be some persons that will not receive a reward for that for which GoD accounts himself a debtor; persons that dare trust GOD with their charity without a witness.'

WALTON'S LIFE OF DONNE.

THOSE lives which are without striking incidents, are nevertheless not less worthy of record. We love to linger, and can find food for musing by the quiet brook, as well as on the margin of the grand and Each mirrors somewhat of the earth and heaven, from So classic river. where it starts from nothing, till it empties in the deep, broad sea. are the tides which bear along the great or lowly; they have their shallows and their whirlpools, and flash about some noted sceneries, as they lave the golden sands of life.

In a certain rural district stands a quaint old parish-church, of no particular style of architecture, but snug and comfortable within. The desk, the pulpit, and the organ-loft are so many high eyries, (a little lower than the angels,) and in the latter I loved to be ensconced when a boy, and look down on the congregation below. Near the chancel is a plain marble slab inscribed to the memory of a late rector, the Rev. Willie Allison, recording the date of his birth and death, and this passage from Holy Writ: Eye hath not seen nor ear heard, neither hath entered into the heart of man what God hath prepared for those who love HIM.' I was acquainted with him well, and have undertaken to write his life, although there is so little to say about him. However, that little is worth knowing. He came to the parish in his youth, and administered in no other place until he died, and was familiarly alluded Whether this were only to by the worthy people as 'Our little man.'

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a title whereby no disrespect was intended, or whether it were a suitable appellation for a scholar and a gentleman, who was no more than the rector of a small country parish, who, according to his demureness and meekness is apt to be considered a mere nobody, it matters not. Almost every modest country parson is known and referred to in like manner. At all events, his name was seldom pronounced. It was: What do you think of our little man?' And how do you like our little man?' If he preached a discourse with any salient points in it, it would be whispered, as the people moved out: Pretty well to-day for our little man.' If it were on angels, lilies of the field, the devil, or any thing out of the way, they would say: Our little man is getting fanciful; or if on erudite topics of theology, far out into the vasty deep, where the horizon seemed to come down and stop their vision; on faith, or regeneration, or any subject which they did not like to hear, they would also remark: Our little man has put us all to sleep; we have no faith in faith; he preaches heathen Greek.'

He was not so very petite in stature, say about five feet eight. Some persons of the same height, well-proportioned in other respects, would not be considered small men, especially if they held good positions in the church. But he stooped a little, and his neck was short, and he did not loom up very largely, nor look as if he could fight his physical battles well, which indeed his calling would scarce allow, though an occasion might seem to offer; for theological strife waxes so warm now-a-days, that it occasionally invokes the use of carnal weapons, and he who is the tallest and the lustiest stands a better chance among the foe.

Neither was his mental stature so diminutive; for he was well versed in sacred and profane letters, and had a good faculty of applying what he read, both in conversation and in preaching, so as to make it tell well on the point in hand. If his memory were not very good as to dry and abstract facts, it never let them go if they applied to general, well-established principles. Hence his classification was correct and useful; and although the habits of a student, the careful and precise modes in which he arranged his thoughts, made his manner one of slowness, and a trepidation and nervous temper threw him frequently from off his guard, while all this deprived him of the flippant and ready change, of the small and silvery bits of tattle which pass current, our little man' would by no means be considered of no account in any real and intellectual society.

His disposition was genial and affectionate, though exceedingly reserved, so mild indeed that it impressed others with an idea that he wanted firmness. Seldom liable to any encroachment, and always on the side of peace, he yet knew how to check impertinence, and put it down with a sudden energy which smacked of the natural spirit which was in him. But he was never known to let the sun go down upon his wrath. Without ambition for the world's applause, not pushing himself according to his merits, he seemed rather to creep along through the sequestered walks which he had chosen, paying his kindly and oft-repeated visits to the poor and afflicted, who acknowledged him as their best friend; and these too spoke of him in the language of affection, as 'our little man.'

1855.]

Our Little Man.

His lot was fixed in a charming locality, where sea and land, hill and valley, smooth lawns and gay meadows combined in a landscape to please the eye and invite the wealthy to reside there. They had taken possession of every desirable nook and secluded by-place, which they had laid out in pebbled walks, adorned with trees, and with a profusion of early and late-blooming flowers. A parish church was a sine qua non to these Christian people, and without it they would not have been willing to come. They drove to church on pleasant Sunday mornings, and by clubbing altogether, ten or a dozen of them, they were enabled to raise a little salary for their little man, about the same as that of a good coachman. He, however, did not complain on that score.

He used to make his home at the house of a poor widow, of whom he was both temporally and spiritually almost the sole support. She lived in a picturesque little nook, in a house composed of one story and a half, very small indeed, and attached to it was also a small garden. She possessed beside a few acres, in which she pastured her cow, and what she received for the rector's board. These, however, were ample to provide a frugal living, sometimes spiced with dainties, for them both. Seated in tidy estate in the parlor of her domicile, she was a picture of piety and contentment, and her mouth was full of expressions about the goodness and mercies of GOD. The greatest pleasure and business of her life was in attending to the wants and comforts of the little man, in mending his shirts, darning his stockings, marking his pocket-handkerchiefs, and in seeing to it that his bands and surplice How were without spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing. Quiet heart! peacefully and serenely were gliding onward the latter days of a life, of which the early part had been overcast and full of trouble.

The pastor's study was a very sanctuary of cosy retirement. It was sheltered in summer from the glare of day by the foliage of two English cherry-trees, and our little man loved to pluck the ripe fruit from the end of the limbs, as he sat in the open window, or watched the robins as they built their nests, or dropped the earth-worms into the wide-abefore his eyes; and when the trees were mouths of their young gape covered with fragrant blossoms, to listen to the hum of busy bees, who swarmed about their crowns, or bumped their heads against the windowEvery morning after breakfast, the widow glided up the panes. cramped and crooked stair-case, broom in hand, into the study, and bustled about with great zeal and with exceeding discrimination. Every particle of dust was swept out of the room and out of doors with a most eager besom, and no stray thread escaped the keen glance of The ink-stand was washed, and not a dot or those spectacled eyes. blot or spatter was suffered to remain on the margin of the black pool; the nibs and points of many pens were also freed from their incrustations, but no open book, no piece of writing, or paper with its precious written thoughts, was touched or disturbed. Mr. Allison was particularly nervous on this point, and the widow knew it. Once and once only the cat had toyed with a text or two of Holy Writ upon a stray leaf, and dragged it beneath the table. It was searched for and found The rector uttered no word of complaint, but he looked presently. After the learned tomes of sternly, at least the old lady thought so.

the Fathers had been dusted with a brush of peacock's feathers, and the snow-white pillow disposed in the inner chamber, and all things set to rights, the hostess quietly disappeared; so that when the rector returned in a few moments, he could not fail to perceive that he was reïnstated in greater comfort, and it looked as if some tidy angel had been present and fanned the little sanctuary with his plume. Once fairly ensconced in his chair among his books, the voice of our little man would scarce be heard from day to day. He came regularly to meals, but ate so frugally that the whole year was to him a Lenten season. On Monday mornings, he took his hat and cane, and wandered off; on Tuesday, he was quite chirpy and conversational; but during the rest of the week, demure and silent; for he worked hard in the composition of sermons. He seemed to indulge in no sort of unmixed recreation; he took to himself no season of holiday, for the purpose of travelling, during the hot summer months; he never went a-fishing, and was very abstinent in the pleasures of the tea-table. In short, he acted so prudently and on the negative as to afford small chance for gossip or remark, except in the common-place allusions which were made to our little man.' Any knowledge which the people had of him was associated only with the desk or with the pulpit, with a christening or with a funeral, or with some ministerial act. This reserve was at least on the side of safety; for it is, alas! too true with respect to the clergy, that any thing like a freedom of genial intercourse, will afford occasion which will be used against them. Even the poor widow who ministered to his little wants, knew little about him, except that he gave no trouble, that he ate nothing, that he was a wonderful preacher, and a dear, good little man.

Whatever his habits were, however, they sprang from the constitution of his mind, and were probably but little modified by his calling. In any position, he would have been subdued and retiring in his demeanor. There was that about him which seemed to indicate that he would never take unto himself a wife. He was too much attached to books and study, and the little sanctuary beneath the widow's eaves, and had few wants and cravings beyond what these might supply. As far as could be discerned, he had no particular yearning for the beauty of woman, notwithstanding the real warmth and tenderness of his nature. As for the fair of his flock, he was singularly precise and formal in his conduct toward them, indulged in no witticism or pleasantry, nor gave the slightest token that he looked on any of them particularly to admire them. The poor widow did not think that there was much probability that he would ever marry. Indeed he had become so much a fixture in her house, and she so much engrossed in taking care of him, that she felt a jealous love, which would have been greatly jarred and worried with the thought. As to her own little stipend, which would be thus diminished and almost brought to naught by such a step, it never once entered her thoughts. There was no imminent danger, nevertheless she sometimes exhorted him with a motherly counsel that a good wife would greatly promote his influence and render him more happy. The little man merely shrugged his shoulders, replied nothing, and the poor woman's heart was set at rest.

One day, as he sat opposite to her in the parlor, he quietly turned down the leaf of a book which he had been reading, and said, 'Mrs. Wadham!'

There was something in the tone of his voice, for him, so startling, that her nerves were shocked, her knitting-needle fell out of her hand, and she dropped a stitch.

Dear me she exclaimed, when she had recovered her self-possession, Mr. Allison, how suddenly you spoke. How you frightened me!'

Did I, my dear friend? I ask your pardon. It is necessary for me to speak to you about a subject which may involve some change of plans.'

The old lady placed her knitting in her lap, and her heart sank within her. She had no apprehension, however, of what he was actually going to say. She had long dreaded that he would be called away to some more promising field of labor; for she had often made the remark that such devoted piety, such a Christian walk and temper, and such evangelical, heart-searching sermons as he preached, were worthy of those who could appreciate them more and reward them better. was this contingency which hung over her head, and alarmed her at this present; for she looked at him in no other light than as a young angel, with a glory around his brow.

It

Then you have received a call from a new parish?' she inquired sadly, while she eyed him somewhat curiously.

Nothing of the kind, my dear friend, at least not lately; I am expecting to remain where I am for the present, GOD willing.'

Thank God for that!' said the widow, scarcely concealing her emotion; I should be lost in my old age without my dear pastor, whom the LORD preserve, for the sake of His unworthy servant.'

Mrs. Wadham, you have sometimes hinted upon the subject, and I have, following up your suggestion, decided that if I ever marry, it must be done quickly.'

The old lady was thunder-struck.

My suggestion!' she half-said, but repressed her words, and, striving to appear cheerful, she wished him great joy.

A few moments after, she went into her own chamber and wept. It was the best kind of selfish feeling; for her household, as at present arranged, was as peaceful and happy as any thing could be this side the

grave.

Ah!' said she, this is a world of changes, but the LORD knows what is best for us all.'

The little man, however, did not give any intimation as to who the person was whom he had in view, neither did any report of his intention become current, so well was his character as a bachelor confirmed. But he was gone every Monday, and no one knew where he went. His ho-tess always used to suppose that his errands were to visit the sick, to give alms to the poor, and to distribute tracts. And no doubt he took these things in his way. She was sure, however, that it must be a golly woman, although she did not know any one within the compass of fifty miles who was worthy to become the wife of so saintly a man. He had, however, said that if he ever married, the event must occur