Zachariah, however, was prudent and thrifty--indeed rather more
thrifty in the estimation of parishioners than befitted one who
held by right of faith a title-deed to mansions in the skies.
Almost as soon would he risk his future inheritance as peril on a
doubtful venture the few hundred dollars snugly saved up for a wet
day by prudence and economy.

Not willing to rely entirely on his own judgment, he rather
reluctantly decided to call on a banker in an adjacent town, with
whom he enjoyed a slight acquaintance. In thinking the matter over
he was greatly perplexed to determine how to introduce the subject.
Of course it would not answer to allow the cashier to fathom his
secret purpose, and yet he was oppressed with a vague consciousness
that only a translucent film hid his thought from the world. Once
or twice, in driving over on the unfamiliar errand, weak and
irresolute he half resolved to turn back, but greed finally
prevailed, and he kept on to the village.

With a strong but unsatisfactory effort to appear at ease, he
sauntered into the bank. After the usual interchange of greetings,
he nervously remarked, "Brother Hyde, as I was coming this way to-
day to call on Brother Tompkins, I have taken the liberty to drop
in to ask you a question on a matter in your line."

"Very well," replied the banker, "I shall be happy to serve you."

"I had a transaction a few days ago," resumed the clergyman, "with
a peddler,--an entire stranger to me,--who, in making change, gave
me a number of bills which I have reason to suspect are