light, and the play of summer on the features of an antarctic view.

"'Tis a remarkable spot, as no one can deny," answered Daggett; "but I
like its abundance of seal the most of all T cannot say I have much taste
for sights, unless they bring the promise of good profit with them. We
Vineyarders live in a small way, and are not rich enough to take delight
in landscapes."

"Serve God, and reverence his holy name," said Stimson, earnestly, "and
all places will be good to look upon. I have been on the Vineyard in my
time, and have never found any difference as to the spot, so long as the
heart is right."

"A poor man must work," answered Daggett, dropping his eyes from the more
distant and gorgeous views of the drifting ice-mountains, to the rocky
shore, that was still frequented by thousands of seals, some of the
largest of which might be seen, even from that elevation, waddling about;
"ay, a poor man must work, Sundays or no Sundays; and he who would make
his hay, must do it while the sun shines. I like meetin'-goin' at the
right place, and sealin' when sealin' ought to be done. This day is lost,
I fear, and I hope we shall not have reason to regret it."

Stimson did not abandon what he conceived to be his duty, but answered
this cold, worldly spirit in the best manner his uncultivated speech
enabled him to do. But his words were thrown away on Daggett. The lust of
gold was strong within him; and while that has full dominion over the
heart, it is vain to expect that any purely spiritual fruits will ripen
there. Daggett was an instance of what, we fear, many thousands resembling
him might be found, up and down the land, of a man energetic by
temperament, industrious by habit, and even moderate in his views, but