unintellectual sort of person, who retailed groceries for a living.

A singular and mysterious change had now taken place. Chapman no longer
got up quarrels with his neighbors. Indeed, he had a good word to say
whenever he met Titus Bright. He could shake hands with Doctor Critchel,
and agree with the Dominie on matters of religion. In fine, if he was
everybody's enemy before, he was now everybody's friend. He admired the
Dutch for their honesty and true-heartedness. This singular change gave
the gossips of the town something to talk about for a week. The Chapmans
and the Toodleburgs were now the very best of friends. Chapman could be
seen of an evening sitting in Hanz's little ivy-covered porch, enjoying
a pot of ale. And Hanz had been seen smoking his pipe in Chapman's
garden. All this meant something, the gossips said, and something of
great importance. Where two such men got their heads together, and pipes
and ale were called in, there was sure to be something deep going on.
Hanz Toodleburg, they said, never smoked his pipe with a man like
Chapman but that there was something in the wind. Then Mrs. Chapman and
her gushing, blue-eyed daughter had condescended to visit at
Toodleburg's, and could make themselves quite agreeable at Angeline's
tea-table. And then Angeline, good, kind Angeline, with her face still
bright with gentleness and love, was always so happy When Mattie called.
Then there was something so simple, so frank and straightforward in
Mattie's nature. Angeline could not help loving her. And the affection
she cherished for Tite, who was the idol of her thoughts, strengthened
the ties of their love.

"We have not forgot you, you see," said Mrs. Chapman, as she bowed
herself into Toodleburg's little house one evening. "We expected company
at home to-night, but says I to my dear husband, 'you know, my dear
husband,' (here Mrs. Chapman bowed to her dear husband, who had followed