sixteen hours a day half his lifetime."

"Deacon White is worth twenty thousand dollars," said Abel, "every cent of
which he made mending and making common shoes."

"What does he do with it?" said Arthur.

"Hoards it up," said Abel, "and yet an honester man never lived. Did I not
tell you of the time I hired his horse and chaise? I believe not; well, it
is worth waiting for. The deacon's old white horse is as gray and as docile
as himself; the fact is, the stable is so near the house, that the horse is
constantly under the influence of 'Old Hundred;' he has heard the good old
tune so often, that he has a solemn way of viewing things. Two or three
weeks ago I wanted to take my sister to see a relative of ours, who lives
seven or eight miles from here, and my mother would not consent to my
driving her, unless I hired the deacon's horse and chaise--the horse, she
said, could not run if he wanted to. So I got him, and Harriet asked Kate
Laune to go too, as the chaise was large enough for all three; and we had a
good time. We were gone all day, and after I took the girls home, I drove
round to the deacon's house and jumped out of the chaise to pay what I
owed.

"You know what a little fellow the deacon is, and he looked particularly
small that evening, for he was seated in his arm-chair reading a large
newspaper which hid him all but his legs. These are so shrunken that I
wonder how his wife gets his stockings small enough for him.

"'Good evening, Mrs. White,' said I, for the old lady was sitting on the
steps knitting.