had cowed her reverend companion. There is nothing that so goads a
spirited woman to madness as the realization that any man controls her
husband. He may be subservient to her--a cuckold even--but to be mated
with a man whose soul is neither his own nor wholly hers, is to her the
torment of torments.

"I wish Robert Belcher was hanged," said Mrs. Snow, spitefully.

"Amen! and my name is Butterworth," responded that lady, making sure
that there should be no mistake as to the responsibility for the
utterance.

"Why, mother!" exclaimed the three hisses Snow, in wonder.

"And drawn and quartered!" added Mrs. Snow, emphatically.

"Amen, again!" responded Miss Butterworth.

"Mrs. Snow! my dear! You forget that you are a Christian pastor's wife,
and that there is a stranger present."

"No, that is just what I don't forget," said Mrs. Snow. "I see a
Christian pastor afraid of a man of the world, who cares no more about
Christianity than he does about a pair of old shoes, and who patronizes
it for the sake of shutting its mouth against him. It makes me angry,
and makes me wish I were a man; and you ought to go to that meeting
to-morrow, as a Christian pastor, and put down this shame and
wickedness. You have influence, if you will use it. All the people want
is a leader, and some one to tell them the truth."