“I blame you not,” deluded Papist; “you have not felt the ’power of prayer,’ brought up in all the ignorance and idolatry of the ’scarlet lady.’  But it is not for you I prayed or wrestled with the Lord, but for my beloved dove, this innocent victim of your idolatry and the hellish arts of your church.  Do you not feel the change of heart, Mary, my love?” he said, approaching near to the girl.  “Tell me, have I gained thee?  Has the Lord heard my groanings, and sighs, and petitions for thy restoration to the creed of our Protestant fathers?  Do, Mary dear, tell me the feelings of thy heart!  Do, love, comfort me by the assurance that I have gained thee!”

“Mr. Gulmore,” answered the good child, “I thought you had long since ceased visiting us, and we hoped never again to be annoyed by your ministrations.  Your conduct in combining with my step-sister here, in conjunction with the late postmaster of S——­, to prevent Paul from holding correspondence, has disgusted, not only me, but even father, beyond the limits of reconciliation; and whatever I may think of your religion, be assured I have no two opinions about yourself.”

“O, she is lost, I greatly fear!  Fallen is an angel from heaven!  Save, save, O Lord!” cried the parson, as Mary Prying rose up from her seat and left the room.

The foregoing rebuke of the spirited girl brought this craven-hearted dominie at once to his senses, and during the remainder of the evening he was more rational in conduct and discourse, seeing that Mary was the darling of her father, who would allow the parson to make no reflections on the motives that actuated her in the steps she was about to take.

“I am afraid, parson,” said Murty, breaking the embarrassing silence that continued for a few minutes, “I am afraid the lady has eluded the forceful grasp of your powerful prayer.  I guess she will become a nun, too, notwithstanding your great efforts to make her sing

   “But I won’t be a nun; I can’t be a nun;
    I’m so fond of pleasure that I can’t be a nun.”

“I greatly fear, yer riverince,” said he, affecting the broadest Irish brogue, “y’ill have to phray a great deal yet afore you convart her from her resolution.”

“We must submit to the decree of the Lord in all that he has planned from the beginning of the world, Murty,” said the parson, resignedly.

“Think the Lord has decreed Mary for the nunnery, reverend and learned sir?” said Murty, affecting great politeness.

“Not exactly, Murty; but the Lord, by his inscrutable decree before the creation, has passed sentence on all accountable beings:  some he has delivered over to irremediable wrath, and others he has predestined to glory and bliss eternal; and no efforts of men can reverse these irrevocable decrees.”

“O, dreadful!” said Murty.  “I always heard that God willed all men to be saved; that it was in every man’s power to avoid evil, and do good; that the giving of the commandments supposed the perfect liberty of men; and that, supposing the grace of God, all men had the means of salvation within their reach.  If your system were true, all efforts of man to save himself would be useless, and all your pulpits and sermons would be worse than useless; for they would be a gross imposition, and a loss of time.”