You'll never be anything, Albert.

Well, well, what comfort can I take in a boy that'll turn his back on all his chances, and never be anything but a poor preacher, without money enough to make your mother a Christmas present of a--a piece of ribbon ?" "Why, ma, you've got ribbons enough now, I'm sure," said Katy, looking at the queer tri-color which her mother was flying in revolutionary defiance of the despotism of good taste.

"I'm sure I'm glad Albert's going to be a minister.

He'll look so splendid in the pulpit! What kind of a preacher will you be, Albert ?" "I hope it'll be Episcopal, or any way Presbyterian," said Mrs.Plausaby, "for they get paid better than Methodist or Baptist.

And besides, it's genteel to be Episcopal.