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10 THE PARSON’S SECRET SIN. The Parson’s Secret Sin, BY CLABA AUGUSTA. water right down the spine of mr back 1 enuff to make yer blood run cola l” “ Yes, Deacon Pilgrove, yon may well say it’s a world of sin and sorrow 1” ejaculated Mrs. Simon Sweetser, applying her handkerchief to her eyes to wipe away an imaginary drop of moisture, evolved by the sympathy her gener ous heart felt for the wicked sons of men. “ It is bad enough,” she continued, “ when we poor worms of the dust that bain’t nobody, for get ourselves and serve the great adversary; but when a minister of the goBpel—oh, dear 1” and up went the handkerchief to finish the sen tence. “ I don’t wonder you’re affected, sister Sweet- ser,” said Miss Anna Strickland, a very proper spinster of forty-five. “It’s enough to draw tears from a stone to see the wickedness and depravity of this world 1 and of men in particu lar 1 Thank the Lord, I never had nothing to say to none of the desateful critters' Whatever else I may.be guilty of, I hasn't got that to an swer for 1” “ Let me see,” said Deacon Pilgrove, slowly, wiping his spectacles as though he wanted the glasses clean to help him see it. “ It’s as much as six weeks since the parson took to cutting up, hain’t it ?” “Jest six weeks day before yesterday,” said Miss Strickland, solemnly. “ I and Mrs. Sweet ser watched him, and we’ve watched him ever sense, off and on. I, for one, calculate to be a faithful sentinel on the walls of Zion.” “ Yes, Deacon, so do I,” said Mrs. Sweetser; “ and I think it’s the bonnden duty of some of us to break down the doors of that house, and affront the arch deceiver right in his den 1” “ Dear me 1” exclaimed Mrs. Perkins, a timid little woman, who, being something of a invalid, did not often meet with the Spruceville Sewing- Society. “ Do tell me what Parson Howard has done 1” “ Why, Mrs. Perkins, is it possible you hain’t heard?” exclaimed Mrs. Sweetser, amazed. “ Indeed, not. You see I go out very little,” apologetically. “ He’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing 1” cried the deacon, with righteous indignation. “For full six weeks and two days,” began Miss Strickland, oracularly, “there has been lights seen from nine till ten o’clock in the back chamber of the old Jenkins’ house jest below the parsonage; and nobody has lived there for ten year 1 Lights in an old ontensnted house, and up stairs, too.” “ Spirits,” suggested Tom Chester. “ Fiddlesticks!” said Miss Strickland, con' temptuously; “there hain’t no spirits now days 1 Sister Sweetser will agree with me in that; and Bhe’s lived years before I was bora, and ought to know.” “Not more than two or three year, Bister Strickland,” said Mrs. Sweetser, mildly. Miss Strickland took np her narrative where it was droppe\ ** Me and Mrs. Sweetser, we watched, and the deacon helped us. Well, seven nights in con cession we seed Parson Howard steal out of his honse by the back-door—about nine—with bundle ot something in his arms; and he’d clip it acroet the field, climb the fence, and go right up to the side door of the old Jenkins’ house. And after stopping a minnit on the steps to listen, he’d onlock the door and make his en terance, and lock it behind him; and in five minnita them back chamber winders would be It was “What kind of noises?” asked Mrs. Perkins, shivering) and drawing nearer Miss Strickland. “ Oh! the most terrible sounds that ever you heard; groans as if somebody was almost killed alivo; and cries of * oh 1 oh 1 oh 1' and ‘ ah 1’ and ’em I’ and rattling of chains ; and sometimes something would fall so heavy that the very windows rattled.” “ Oh, goodness me 1" “ I don’t wonder yon turn pale, Mrs. Perkins— it’s enough to make anybody turn! A minister, too—a man that sets himself up fora moddle and natron for the people 1” “ But what can it mean ?” asked Mrs. Perkins. ‘ I’ll tell you,” said Miss Strickland, impres sively, “ I’ve studied it all out ” “ lie’s a counterfitting these ere United States bonds 1” said the deacon—“ that’s what he’s about 1 They say he’s got a sight of bonds over to Spruceville bank: and I’ll bate ten dollars they’re counterfit. I read about how that the country was fludded with ’em ; and he’s a mak ing of ’em—that’s what he’s about.” “ No, deacon, you’re wrong,” said Miss Strick land, positively. “He’s got a crazy wife shot up in that back chamber !’ y “Gudness gracious 1” cried Mrs. Perkins. ' Why, he’s got a wife to home.” “That makes no difference in these days. He’s a bigotist l You may depend on it that he a got another wife besides poor Mrs. Howard ; and she’s shot up out in that chamber 1 Don’t on remember that when the Howards moved lere they come in the night? Wall, they had a reason for it 1 Kitty Malone, stop your giggling! You’re blazy enough naturally; but when you [le so, you’re as red as a poppy 1” ’ever mind, dear,” said Tom Chester, I’ve noticed that Mrs. Howard’s eyes is always red,” said Mr. Perkins. ‘I thought they were weak; that’s what she told me,” said his wife. “ Crying makes weak eyes," said Mrs. Sweet ser ; “ ’tain’t likely she’d tell that it was crying, though. She's got some pride, I reckon.” Wall, what shall be done about it ?” asked the deacon. “ Miss Strickland, what do you say?' “ Jest what 1 have said from the first, deacon. We will arm ourselves, and march in a body to the house; burst open the door—rush up stairs, and surprise him in his iniquity; for I’ve no doubt but that he’s up there beating his poor crazy wife; and that’s where the ‘olis!’ and ' aha t’ and * urns l’ come from.” And then the outraged citizens of Spruceville drew nearer together and laid their plans, and concurred in Miss Strickland’s opinion. The next evening was the time set apart for the con founding and exposing of Parson Howard. It came in due time—dark and wet. Miss Strickland put on , her water-proof, armed her self with a butcher-knife and a clothes-pole, and set forth for the rendezvous, which was the bit of cover just behind the Jenkins* house, Deacon Pilgrove and Mr. Perkins were already there, each carrying an old-fashioned rifle, anc each feeling very weak in the knees. Soon after Mrs. Sweetser, and Tim Jones, their hired man, arrived—Mr. Sweetser refused to have anything to do with the affair. Parson Howard was about his own business, he said, and what that busi ness was did not concern anybody. A little further back in the woods, still as mice, were Tom Chester, and two or three of his chums, gathered to see the fun. Presently Mr. Howard came out of his house and walked rapidly to the old mansion. Un locking the door he disappeared within, and soon afterward the back chamber windows were lighted up as usual; and just then the bell on the factory rang out for nine. “ Now is the time,” said Miss Strickland. “ Come, you men folks, lead off.” “Letthe deacon go first,” said Tim Jones; “ he’s one of the officers of the church.” “ Mr. Perkins you go ahead,” said the deacon, in a faint voice. “ Pm rather nigh-sighted, and can’t see the path so well.” “ And I’m subject to turn of ffiintness,” mid Mr. Perkins. “HI see anything alters took swoonding. You go, d< “I’ll lead off myself 1” mid Mi brandishing the clothes-pole. *• HI am a woman) I hain’t afeard of my shudder, as some people be. Come on 1” She put her shoulder against the door of the airs, sweetser s nestcneeses found its way t old house, but it was such a rickety concern that parsonage larder before the week was out she did not have to exert herself. It *- * ” The back-room door was not fastened, and Miss Strickland flung it wide open. And what was the scene revealed ? Why, there, in the center of the room, was Parson Howard dressed in a pair of red-flannel pantaloons, his chest bare, ana his feet likewise; and the good man was making a desperate effort to fling himself over a bar, stretched frcrm the posts, about seven feet from the floor. The women shrieked at sight of the parson’s en deshabille, and the parson seized his coat and flungit blushingly over his shoulders. “ Why, brethren and sisters I” he exclaimed, “ what means this unseasonable intrusion ?” “Where is she?” cried Miss Strickland. • ‘ Where is your miserable victim ?” “ I do not understand you, sister Strickland,” said the parson, mildly. “ There’s none so deaf as those who don’t want to heart” exclaimed Miss Strickland, tartly. “ Where is your wile ?” "She’s at home, and in bed.” Not that onel” returned Miss Strickland, with dreadful emphasis. “Imean the poor, crazy being that you keep shot up here, and amuse yourself with beating every night till the whole neighborhood can hear her scream, ‘ah l’ and ‘ oh!’ and ‘ um I’ ” “ Deacon Pilgrove, please explain Miss Strick land’s meaning,” said the parson. “ Ahem 1 hem!’’ said the deacon, clearing his throat, and evidently not knowing where to begin. “ You see, sir, we’ve noticed these lights here o’ nights in the winders, and seen you come in here night after night.” “ But how in the world did you happen to see the lights, deacon ? I selected the back chamber because it looked out on Cedar Lennap, where no one would be likely to notice the light, or be disturbed by it.” “ I saw it from the garret winder first," said Miss Strickland. “ I was up there to get some arbs for Frank Grimly’s wife, that was sick with the information of the stummak; and after that I watched—yes, Parson Howard, I watched and seed all of vour dreadful doings 1” “ And now, if you’ve got a crazy wife, less git a view of her,” said Mrs. Sweetser. “ I read in a book once about a man by the name of Boches- ter that kept his maryrade wife Bhot up in his house, and set out to merry another woman; but the Lord didn't let him be so wicked.” “I have no one here but myself)” said the parson. “ Well, what upon earth are you doing here at nights, after it’s time for decent folks to be abed?” asked the deacon, impatiently. “It’s dreadful works for h minister of the gospel.” “ I know it is wrong,” replied the parson, meekly. “ It is my weakness—my sin, if you choose to call it so. We all have these secret sins, you know?” “ I dont 1” said Miss Strickland, emphatically.. “ And now, brethren and sisters, I have a con fession to make.” He wiped his forehead, and pulled his coat closer around him. “ My sin 18— “ Bigotry 1” ejaculated Miss Strickland. “ The Lord forbid 1” said the minister, de voutly. “ Wall, what is your sin, then ?” asked Mrs. Sweetser. Smoking 1 I am an inveterate smoker, and my. wife detests the smell of the weed. She frightful I’m i go, deacon.” lid Miss Strickland, objects to my Bmoking at the parsonage because it fouls the curtains. The doctor has ordered me to practice gymnastics every day to keep up my strength, and I told Charlotte I would have the things put up out here; and here I come every night for an hour to exercise and smoke 1” '“ But, dear me, Parson Howard 1” said Mrs. Sweetser, “ where did all the * ahs 1’ and • ohs t and * urns 1’ and the groans come from ?” “ Just try and swing yourself over that bar, sister Sweetser, and come down on your head, as I have done many a time, and you will believe me when I tell you, I made the noise myself. And now, ladies, if you will have the goodness to take leave, I will dress myself and go home.” There was a stampede down the stairs; a wild whoop from Tom Chester and the other boys, who had listened on the landing—and the dis comfited gossips sought their several homes. The next day, Miss Strickland left Sprnceville to visit an imaginary aunt a hundred miles off, and did not return in a burry. She conld not endure the jokes of which she was wise enough to know she would be made the butt. And Parson Howard still