the old loom, with its harnesses, its reed, and its shuttles; the
flax-wheel and the distaff, forming a quaint setting, but representing a
past age and the primitive habits of the people who used them.

There was Hanz and Angeline on one side. Time was writing its record in
deep lines on their faces, and whitening their gray hairs. Frank,
simple-minded, honest, and contented, they had enough to carry them
through life comfortably; and why should they, Hanz said, trouble
themselves about anything more? They represented an age and a people
perfectly happy with what it had pleased God to give them. On the other
side there was Chapman and Mrs. Chapman, exact types of the people they
represented. Ambitious of making a show in the world, grasping,
restless, selfish, intriguing, seeking always for means to advance
themselves, studying the future for their own advancement, and ready to
use even religion as an assistant to gaining their objects. Such was the
contrast presented in the picture before us.

Again apologizing for calling at what seemed a late hour, the stranger
proceeded. "I am in great haste, madam. I came all the way from New York
to-day. Crossed the ferry only an hour ago, and am somewhat fatigued. My
business is of great importance, and with Mr. Toodleburg. I was directed
here, and am glad to find him so comfortably situated."

"Very well, very well," rejoined Hanz, his face lighted up with a smile,
and his white hair flowing; "dat's me, mine friend. You be's welcome to
my little home. Yees, mine friend, you shall be so welcome as I can make
you." Hanz shook him heartily by the hand, and invited him to sit down.
"You be's had no shupper, eh?" he resumed. "Der's no man what comes nor
goes hungry to my house."