slight twinkle in his bright gray eye. "Can thee respect a drunkard,
Emma?"

"I can respect a _soul_, sir," replied Emma, warmly,--"a soul made in
the image of God, though it were sunk in the very depths of pollution
and wretchedness; and so can the 'Great and Holy One,' Mr. Sliver, or
he never would have sent his Son to redeem the world."

The sly twinkle vanished from the good Quaker's eye, and he looked
seriously, earnestly, into the face of that dear girl. "Emma," said he,
"what would thee do for Peter and his family? Can I aid thee in any
way?"

"You have done so already," said she, "by speaking of the temptations
to which he is exposed. I think that I can persuade mother to employ
him; and Mr. Sliver, as you are acquainted with the people here, you
may do Mr. Graffam a good service, by persuading your neighbors to feel
and to manifest some interest in himself and his family; ask them not
to allow their children to call him 'Old Pete,' 'Old toper,' &c., and
twit him of riding a high horse."

"I will," replied friend Sliver, "and I will do anything else in my
power to help thee."

"Thank you," said Emma, smiling, and sliding from the fence; "I am
greatly obliged to you; good-by, Mr. Sliver."

"Farewell!" replied the old man, as he once more watched her descending
the hill, and thought of what Sarah had said about her "ripening for
glory."