There is a kind of magnetic intelligence in the tones of the voice.  Mrs. Wade understood perfectly, by the way in which this was said, that the husband did not feel much sympathy for the stranger, and only yielded the favor asked because he could not well refuse to grant it.  Her own observation did not correct the impression her husband’s manner had produced.  The man’s dress, though neither dirty nor ragged, was not calculated to impress any one very favorably.  His hat was much worn, and the old gray coat in which he was buttoned up to the chin, had seen so much service that it was literally threadbare from collar to skirt, and showed numerous patches, darns, and other evidences of needlework, applied long since to its original manufacture.  His cow-hide boots, though whole, had a coarse look; and his long dark beard gave his face, not a very prepossessing one at best, a no very attractive aspect.

“You can sit down there,” said Mrs. Wade, a little ungraciously, for she felt the presence of the man, just at that particular juncture, as an intrusion; and she pointed to an old chair that stood. near the fire-place, in front of which was a large Dutch oven containing some of her best cream short cakes, prepared especially for Mr. N—­, the new Presiding Elder now momently expected.

“Thank you, Ma’am,” returned the stranger, as he took the chair, and drew close up to the blazing hearth, and removing his thick woolen gloves, spread his hands to receive the genial warmth.

Nothing more was said by either the stranger or Mr. Wade, for the space of three or four minutes.  During this time, the good house-wife passed in and out, once or twice, busy as could be in looking after supper affairs.  The lid of the ample Dutch oven had been raised once or twice, and both the eyes and nose of the traveller greeted with a pleasant token of the good fare soon to be served up in the family.  He was no longer cold; but the sight and smell of the cakes and other good things in preparation by the lady, awakened a sense of hunger, and made it keenly felt.  But, as the comfort of a little warmth had been bestowed so reluctantly, he could not think of trespassing on the farmer and his wife for a bite of supper, and so commenced drawing on his heavy woolen gloves, and buttoning up his old gray coat.  While occupied in doing this, Mr. Wade came into the kitchen, and said—­

“I’m afraid Jane, that the minister won’t be along this evening.  It’s after sun-down, and begins to grow duskish.”

“He ought to have been here an hour ago,” returned Mrs. W., in a tone of disappointment.

“It’s getting late, my friend, and D—­’s a good distance ahead,” remarked the farmer, after standing with his back to the fire, and regarding for some moments the stranger, who had taken off his gloves, and was slowly unbuttoning his coat again.

“It’s three miles you say?”

“Yes, good three miles, if not more; and it will be dark in half an hour.”