"No, my dear, it is from your father," said the tempter.

"My father is dead, sir," she quickly rejoined. "It can't be from him,
anyhow, God rest his soul."

"It is from your Father in heaven,--behold it!" said he, in a dramatic
accent, and pulling out of his breast-pocket a small octodecimo Bible.

"Queer letter carrier, and purty heavy letter," grinned a young fellow,
who was sitting by, waiting for the return of the boss to employ him.

"Christ sent you this by me," said the dominie, presenting the Bible.
"It will teach you the knowledge of the Lord, and the true spirit of his
gospel."

"Never knew before that the Lord kept a post-office," said the young
Celt; "but I'm sure he never sent the like of you to be
letter-carrier,--too slow, too stupid, entirely, entirely; and not very
honest, maybe."

"I am not addressing you, sir," said the parson, gruffly. "How do you
like that, Bridget?" said he, plying his arts.

"It is very nicely bound, sir," said she; "but I dare not take it
without acquainting my brother Paul."

"Now, my little favorite," said the representative of the serpent, "if
your uncle at home left you all his property, would you not like to be
able to read the _will_, or would you wait for Paul's leave to read a
document by which you inherited so much wealth?"