As he stepped in, looking to the right and left, he still said, "Satisfied!"

As he passed from room to room and from hall to hall, he continued to exclaim, "Satisfied! SATISFIED!"

Herr Teufelsdreuch, of "Sartor Resartus," concludes his biography with his attainment of a professorship. Father Taylor (not Devil-pressed, but Devil-pressing) may have his formal biography end with his entrance into this new church. Henceforth his life flows like a gulfstream round the world, warming the Arctic, cooling the Tropic,-a tide of inspiration and of blessing unto "all that go down to the sea in ships, and do business on the great waters."

CHAPTER III.

HIS WIFE.

S a novel would be void of its focal point if its

heroine were omitted, so this "story of a life

from year to year" would be without symmetry or soul if its heroine were omitted. In his advance 1 age Father Taylor, being at Nahant, looked across the bay to where Marblehead thrusts " its ponderous and marble jaws " into the vasty deep, and said to a friend beside him, "There I found a jewel." And so he did. If ever wife was a crown to her husband, his was to him,-a crown-jewel of rarest water, finish, and setting. She was a woman of uncommon beauty, and no less uncommon character.

One who knew her best next to him who knew her altogether, thus portrays her appearance and character :

"Deborah D. Millett was born in Marblehead, March 13, 1797. Her parents were not wealthy; and this enabled the daughter, through the discipline and necessity of self-action and self-reliance, to bring to fulness her native nobility of character.

"Her life was never a common one. From her earliest childhood the desire to do and be was the motive-power. To be a Christian was her purpose almost from her babyhood; not merely to profess to be one. She took in all the weight and glory of the responsibility of daughtership to the heavenly Father whom she loved, and heirship to the heavenly home in which she believed.

"In her own record of her early life, she says, 'I sought first the kingdom of heaven, and then claimed the promise that all else should be added.'

"She was a little above medium height, slight in figure, with large, soft black eyes, through which her soul looked out, a mouth of strength, purpose, and sweetness. Her attractive features were crowned with luxuriant dark hair, which fell in natural curls, or would have done so had it been allowed, and which waived' about her face, in spite of careful smoothing and tucking away under the little QuakerMethodist bonnet which was worn in the early days of Methodism.

"Her quiet dignity of manner could not be surpassed. A stranger might call her haughty. She was not so in heart: but the something which guarded her, or rather the herself, which was a visible atmosphere, demanded and commanded respect and reverence from all who met her; and, as acquaintance ripened into love, love softened the extreme dignity into deeper admiration, and fuller appreciation of her marvellous womanhood.

"Her talents were of high order. An executive business ability would have placed her in the front ranks of mercantile life, could it have had full play. All her married life she

managed her husband's business matters,-receiving and expending his salary, taking charge of everything, even relieving him of the responsibility of buying his own clothing. He used to enter the room where she would be, and playfully holding out his empty hand would say, 'Wife, a little pocket-lining, if you please.' To her enquiry, 'Where is the five or ten dollars I gave you last week,' his answer would be, I met poor Brother So-and-so, and he told me his wife was sick,' or 'I saw a poor sailor-boy, and he was hungry;' always some good reason for money gone. It would have been no money a very few days after quarterly-payment time, but for the wife whom God gave

him.

"One morning he said, 'Wife, I have invited some brethren to dine with me to-day;' and thereupon Mrs. Taylor did what she very seldom ventured to do, trusted her husband to remember a household care, and, giving him some money, asked him to go directly to Faneuil-Hall Market, to make a necessary purchase for the day's dinner, and the needs of the expected brethren, urging him to return immediately and to remember he had the last ten dollars.' He promised, and started off: she waited, and waited, until it grew so near the dinner-hour her woman's wit had to supply something that did not come from Faneuil Hall Market. The guests arrived; and, at the last moment before serving the dinner, he made his appearance, and to his wife's enquiries as to where the dinner was which he was sent to get, with a look of perfect wonder and fresh recollection, he answered, 'Oh, I forgot all about it! I met Brother, just out here in Ann Street, almost at the foot

of the square; and he told me he was burned out last night, with his wife and little children, and they lost everything; and I was glad I had ten dollars to give him: I never once remembered what you said to me, or what you wanted. Never mind about the dinner : when I invited the brethren, I told them to come down to-day at one o'clock; and if I had anything they should have half of it, and if I had nothing they should have half of that.'

"Mrs. Taylor, in becoming the wife of a minister, made her husband's work her first duty, and gave her whole time and thought to being herself a joint minister and worker for the people, and, with the added duties of wife and mother, complete her life-circle. She was a person of exquisite taste. She would have enjoyed society and all that culture could give, but from her professing religion she accepted duty and work as her portion; and she feared that an indulgence in 'society' might interfere in some way with the path which she had marked out for herself. She would not, therefore, allow temptation to come near her. If at times she felt any social want, it was but for a moment. Labour for and with her husband's people was her pleasure. When, after his coming to Boston to preach to seamen, she adopted the 'sons of the ocean' as her sons, her fidelity was ceaseless. Never did she forget them in the meetings or at home: they were her accepted burden. A sailor-boy sitting before her in meeting was away from home, away from his mother, his wife, his sister, amid temptations; and 'woe,' 'woe' was on her, if she preached not to him the glorious gospel of her Lord and Master.

"She was never deterred from speaking when she felt her