impostor. I employed him with the best of intentions, for your--and
our--good!" "Nephew Frederick," said he, "this is insufferable; you
will regret it! I shall never--NEVER" (as if he had been pronouncing my
doom)--"accept of your hospitalities again!"

He did, however, accept some money which I offered him, and likewise a
seat in the buggy. I watched his departure with joy and terror,--for at
any moment he might relent and stay nor was I at ease in my mind until I
saw Andrew come riding back alone.

We have never seen the old gentleman since But last winter I received a
letter from him he wrote in a forgiving tone, to inform me that he had
been appointed chaplain in a prison, and to ask for a loan of money to
buy a suit of clothes. I sent him fifty dollars and my congratulations.
I consider him eminently qualified to fill the new situation. As a
hardship he can't be beat; and what are the rogues sent to prison for,
but to suffer punishment?

Yes, it would be a joke if my little Iron-Clad should end his career of
imposture in that public institution, and sit once more under my
excellent uncle! But I can't wish him any such misfortune. His mission
to us was one of mercy. The place has been Paradise again, ever since
his visit.--_Scribners Magazine_, August, 1873.




OLIVER BELL BUNCE.

(BORN, 1828.)