and her pocket full of tracts. I will not go to the harvest-supper."

"Hist!" said the Parson, softly. They were now passing the cottage
of Mrs. Somers; and while Kenelm was haranguing against benevolent
girls, Mr. Lethbridge had paused before it, and was furtively looking
in at the window. "Hist! and come here,--gently."

Kenelm obeyed, and looked in through the window. Will was seated;
Jessie Wiles had nestled herself at his feet, and was holding his hand
in both hers, looking up into his face. Her profile alone was seen,
but its expression was unutterably soft and tender. His face, bent
downwards towards her, wore a mournful expression; nay, the tears were
rolling silently down his cheeks. Kenelm listened and heard her say,
"Don't talk so, Will, you break my heart; it is I who am not worthy of
you."

"Parson," said Kenelm, as they walked on, "I must go to that
confounded harvest-supper. I begin to think there is something true
in the venerable platitude about love in a cottage. And Will Somers
must be married in haste, in order to repent at leisure."

"I don't see why a man should repent having married a good girl whom
he loves."

"You don't? Answer me candidly. Did you ever meet a man who repented
having married?"

"Of course I have; very often."

"Well, think again, and answer as candidly. Did you ever meet a man