Father Brighthopes; Or, An Old Clergyman's Vacation

by J. T. Trowbridge

"O!" said Sophronia, with a look of disgust, turning away her face; "he chews tobacco!"

"What of it?" rejoined Sam, who overheard her.

And he rolled the weed in his cheek, with the air of one proud of the accomplishment.

"Do spit out the filthy stuff!" exclaimed Chester.

"It an't no worse than smoking," retorted Sam.

This was a home thrust. Chester, during his last year at school, had become addicted to cigars, which his silly little wife thought delightful in his lips.

"O, there's no comparison!" she cried, indignantly.

Sam was not convinced; but he could not be indifferent to the opinion of so pretty a creature; so, with a sheepish look, he flung the quid on the ground behind him.

"Well, if you can't guess who has come," said he, "I'll tell you. It's the old minister,—Father Brighthopes."

"Father Brighthopes!" echoed the children, in chorus.