Here is one of the phases of ministerial life, presented with little ornament or attractiveness.  There are many other phases, more pleasant to look upon, and far more flattering to the good opinion we are all inclined to entertain of ourselves.  But it is not always best to look upon the fairest side.  The cold reality of things, it is needful that we should sometimes see.  The parish of Y—­, does not, by any means, stand alone.  And Mr. Carroll is not, the only man who has suffered wrong from the hands of those who called him to minister in spiritual things, yet neglected duly to provide for the natural and necessary wants of the body.

I’LL SEE ABOUT IT.

MR. EASY sat alone in his counting room, one afternoon, in a most comfortable frame, both as regards mind and body.  A profitable speculation in the morning had brought the former into a state of great complacency, and a good dinner had done all that was required for the repose of the latter.  He was in that delicious, half asleep, half awake condition, which, occurring after dinner, is so very pleasant.  The newspaper, whose pages at first possessed a charm for his eye, had fallen, with the hand that held—­it, upon his knee.  His head was gently reclined backwards against the top of a high, leather cushioned chair; while his eyes, half opened, saw all things around him but imperfectly.  Just at this time the door was quietly opened, and a lad of some fifteen or sixteen years, with a pale, thin face, high forehead, and large dark eyes, entered.  He approached the merchant with a hesitating step, and soon stood directly before him.

Mr. Easy felt disturbed at this intrusion, for so he felt it.  He knew the lad to be the son of a poor widow, who had once seen better circumstances than those that now surrounded her.  Her husband had, while living, been his intimate friend, and he had promised him, at his dying hour, to be the protector and adviser of his wife and children.  He had meant to do all he promised, but, not being very fond of trouble, except where stimulated to activity by the hope of gaining some good for himself, he had not been as thoughtful in regard to Mrs. Mayberry as he ought to have been.  She was a modest, shrinking, sensitive woman, and had, notwithstanding her need of a friend and adviser, never called upon Mr. Easy, or even sent to request him to act for her in any thing, except once.  Her husband had left her poor.  She knew little of the world.  She had three quite young children, and one, the oldest, about sixteen.  Had Mr. Easy been true to his pledge, he might have thrown many a ray upon her dark path, and lightened her burdened heart of many a doubt and fear.  But he had permitted more than a year to pass since the death of her husband, without having once called upon her.  This neglect had not been intentional.  His will was good but never active at the present moment.  “To-morrow,” or “next week,” or “very soon,” he would call upon Mrs. Mayberry; but to-morrow, or next week, or very soon, had never yet come.