18 PEEP AT OUR NEIGHBORS.

upon the back of his white mare, with
his short clothes on, and his knee
buckles so finely polished, he began to
make preparations for his bow. His hat
was off ina moment. He stopped still,
as if he had been petrified, and waited
for the great man to come up. When
the meeting took place, the bow was got
off as if the life of the bower depended
on the character of his bow.

There was not quite so much venera-
tion for the minister when I was a boy,
though there was much more than there
is now. Now there may be too little—
then there might have been too much.

Parson Daley was not an old man, at