of manner about her new friends, which does not harmonize with her
notions of aristocracy. She questions within herself whether they
represent the "first families" of New York. If the "first families"
could only get their heads together, the heathen world would be sure
to knock under. No doubt, it can be effected in time by common
people. If Sister Slocum, too, would evangelize the world-if she
would give the light of heaven to the benighted, she must employ
willing hearts and strong hands. Satan, she says, may be chained,
subdued, and made to abjure his wickedness. These cheering
contemplations more than atone for the cold reception she met at the
house of Sister Slocum. Her only regret now is that she did not sell
old Cicero. The money so got would have enabled her to bestow a more
substantial token of her soul's sincerity.

Tea over, thanks returned, a prayer offered up, and Brother Spyke,
having taken a seat on the sofa beside Mrs. Swiggs, opens his
batteries in a spiritual conversation, which he now and then spices
with a few items of his own history. At the age of fifteen he found
himself in love with a beautiful young lady, who, unfortunately, had
made up her mind to accept only the hand of a clergyman: hence, she
rejected his. This so disturbed his thoughts, that he resolved on
studying theology. In this he was aided by the singular discovery,
that he had a talent, and a "call to preach." He would forget his
amour, he thought, become a member of the clergy, and go preach to
the heathen. He spent his days in reading, his nights in the study
of divine truths. Then he got on the kind side of a committee of
very excellent ladies, who, having duly considered his qualities,
pronounced him exactly suited to the study of theology. Ladies were
generally good judges of such matters, and Brother Spyke felt he
could not do better than act up to their opinions. To all these