kindled, and her statement was confirmed by the disarranged
furniture, and traces of mud on the window-sill and carpet. The
inkstand had rolled almost to the hearth, scattering its contents
_en route_, and as he glanced at his desk the minister turned pale.

The secret drawer which opened with a spring had been pulled out to
its utmost extent, and he saw that the tin box he had so carefully
locked the previous night was missing. Some _MSS_ were scattered
loosely in the drawer, and the purse filled with gold coins, a
handsomely set miniature, and heavy watch chain with seal attached,
all lay untouched, though conspicuously alluring to the cupidity of
burglars. Bending over his rifled sanctuary, Mr. Hargrove sighed,
and a grieved look settled on his countenance.

"Peyton, do you miss anything?"

"Only a box of papers."

"Were they valuable?"

"Pecuniarily no;--at least not convertible into money. In other
respects, very important."

"Not your beautiful sermons, I hope," cried his sister, throwing one
arm around his neck, and leaning down to examine the remaining
contents of the drawer.

"They were more valuable, Elise, than many sermons, and some cannot
be replaced."