As may be imagined, my father passed a sleepless night in the solitude of his studio.  He wrestled with a host of demons and made a good fight of it; for finally in the small hours of morning he overcame the evil spirit of worldly ambition and with true Christian humility, his soul purified by vanquished temptation, resigned himself unreservedly, good man that he was, to the mandate of a cruel fate.  He began to write his sermon for the Sabbath, and being spiritually chastened and battle-sore, naturally his thoughts dwelt on melancholy topics.  Therefore, he took the text of his sermon from the Lamentations of Jeremiah, chapter 3, v.  I: 

“I am the man that hath seen affliction by the rod of His wrath.”

It may be stated here that on the next Sabbath, from “firstly” to “seventhly” for two long hours father pondered over the uncertainties of earthly life, and that on this occasion he delivered the most effective sermon of his pastoral career.

When father had written his sermon he resumed work on an unfinished volume of historical sketches which he prepared for future publication.

Meantime mother, who was busy with a pleasanter task was correspondingly cheerful.  She altered father’s “Prince Albert” into a stately full-dress coat, ripping up its waist-seams, and pinned back the skirts of the coat into the proper claw-hammer shape.

Then she took that other garment which goes with the long waistcoat and the full-dress coat of a courtier’s suit, in hand.

This article had not been mentioned before by anyone, as there was a goodly supply of it known to be in mother’s wardrobe.  Deftly cutting the lace away, a few inches above the knees she placed some mother-of-pearl buttons and bows of ribbons and with few stitches fashioned a beautiful pair of courtier’s small clothes, or knickerbockers, for father’s use.

Father had begun a description of the battle of Waterloo, for nothing so touched a responsive chord in his mind as the recording of a most fearful catastrophe, the direst calamity known to history, nor served as well to alleviate by comparison his mind’s distress and mortification.

Just as he wrote the sentence, “Alas for Napoleon, here set his lucky star; not only was his misfortune repeated, but also his final downfall accomplished when Blucher’s tardy cavalry appeared on the field, turning the tide of battle in favor of the British”—­in came mother with happy, triumphant laughter, unfolding and flaunting to the breeze the so anxiously wished-for full-dress suit.

“Julia, darling, you have saved the day, oh you are so clever,” shouted father, joyfully embracing her; “but I say!” he exclaimed in startled surprise, where on earth did you get this—­er—­trousseau?  Do you really think I shall need those?”

“Yes, indeed you shall, dearest, when you are going to court,” replied mother.  “Here you have everything needed except the silken hose which you must buy.”