liquor, however prudently, it was then never heard in the land. On the
whole, the clergy of all denominations might be set down as
brandy-and-water men, a few occasionally carrying out their principle to
exaggeration. But the Rev. Mr. Whittle was a sober man, and, though he saw
no great harm in enlivening his heart and cheering his spirits with brandy
taken in small quantities, he was never known to be any the worse for his
libations. It was the same with the deacon, though _he_ drank
rum-and-water of choice; and no other beverage, Mary's currant-wine and
cider excepted, was ever seen on his table.

One thing may be said of liquor, whether it be in its favour or not; it
usually brings out all there is of the facetious in a man, rendering him
conversable and pleasant; for the time being, at least. This was apt to be
peculiarly the case with the Rev. Mr. Whittle and his deacons. In their
ordinary intercourse with their fellow-creatures, these good people had
taken up the idea that, in order to be religious, their countenances must
be sombre, and that care and anxiety should be stamped on their faces,
just as if they had no confidence in the efficacy of the redemption. Few,
indeed, are they who vindicate their professions by living at peace with
God and man! At Oyster Pond, it was much the fashion to imagine that the
more a person became impressed with the truths of _his_, and articularly
with those of _her_, lost condition, the more it became the party to be
cynical, and to pry into, and comment, on the backslidings of the entire
community. This weakness, however, was characteristic of neither the
pastor nor the deacon, each of whom regarded his professions too much in
the light of a regular "business transaction," to descend into these
little abuses. As for Mary, good creature, her humility was so profound as
to cause her to believe herself among the weakest and least favoured of
all who belonged to meeting.