"Indeed!" carelessly ejaculated our official. "I must call and see that
Bible of yours some day."

This conversation--which happened a few days before the death of our
emigrant widow--between his neighbor "Knicks" and our official shows
what an _enlightened gentleman_ he was. Since his elevation to office,
he also got promotion to another situation, which, though not so
lucrative as that of poormaster, in the course of time, by proper
management, promised to come to something. In a certain school house in
his vicinity, where the faithful were too poor, too irreligious, or too
pernicious to hire a preacher, our official held forth every Sunday, and
several evenings on the week days, at prayer meetings, protracted
meetings, and other roaring exercises. And to do him credit, his nasal
accent and piercing shrill voice made him a capital substitute for the
_hired_ regular Methodist preacher. He could be heard for nearly a mile
distant calling on the _brethern_ and _sistern_ to come to heaven.

"O, let us come!" he would cry; "we were made and intended for heaven. I
see the shining seats, I see the crystal fountains, I see the Lord
sitting on the throne. Come, sisters, come! I could embrace ye all for
the Lord's sake. I could hide ye in my bosom. O! O!"

There were some whose faith was not strong enough to place implicit
reliance on the veracity of this very enlightened "minister of the
word;" but the great majority believed, or pretended to believe, and
expressed their faith by crying out, "Glory! glo-ry! glo-r-y!"

If a more particular or personal description of our official is
required, we can state, from minute observation, that Mr. Van Stingey