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Updated: June 10, 2025
And you expect me to do all that Mr. Hardenburgh did?" There was such a quaint air of good-fellowship and simplicity in the new minister's manner, that the little assembly began to stir anew with gratification and amusement. But nobody was forward to answer. In fact, they were a trifle shy of him. The late Mr.
Hardenburgh, for example," chimed in Mrs. Boddington, "who was as loggy as he could be; good old soul! and put us all to sleep, or to wishin' we could. My! hain't I eaten quarts o' dill in the course o' the summer, trying to keep myself respectably awake and considerin' o' what was goin' on! Di says, why must any one eat all that dill that don't want to?" "Cloves is better," suggested Miss Gunn.
"He was a man as there warn't much harm in, I've allays said. 'Tain't a man's fault if he can't make his sermons interestin', I s'pose." "Mr. Hardenburgh preached real good sermons, now, always seemed to me," rejoined Mrs. Carpenter. "He meant right; that's what he did." "That's so!" chimed in Mrs. Mansfield, a rich farmer in her own person.
Why is it duty, to go to church when one don't want to go?" "Well, I'm sure it was time we had a new minister," said Mrs Salter; "and I'm glad he's come. If he's no better than old Mr. Hardenburgh, it'll take us a spell to find it out; and that'll be so much gained. He don't look like him any way." "He is different, ain't he?" assented Mrs. Boddington. "If we wanted a change, we've got it.
"The new man doesn't look much like Mr. Hardenburgh." "It'll be a savin' in biscuits, if he ain't." "I used to like to see Mr. Hardenburgh eat, mother." "I hain't no objection when I don't have the biscuits to make. Diana, you baked a pan o' them biscuits too brown. Now you must look out, when you put 'em to warm up, or they'll be more'n crisp." "Everybody else has them cold, mother."
"It allays makes me feel kind o' good when he comes alongside. He's cheerful. Mr. Hardenburgh was a good man, but he made me afeard of him; he was sort o' fierce, in the pulpit and out o' the pulpit. Mr. Masters ain't nary one." "Do you think he's a good preacher, then?" said Gertrude demurely, bending over to look at Miss Barry's knitting. "Well, I do!" said the old lady. "There!
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