Mrs. Rachel Sutton was a born match maker, and she had cultivated the gift by diligent practice. As the sight of a tendrilled vine suggests the need and fitness of a trellis, and a stray glove invariably brings to mind the thought of its absent fellow, so every disengaged spinster of marriageable age was an appeal--pathetic and sure--to the dear woman's helpful sympathy, and her whole soul went out in compassion over such “nice” and an appropriated bachelors as crossed her orbit, like blind and dizzy comets. Her propensity, and her conscientious indulgence of the same, were proverbial among her acquaintances, but no one--not even prudish and fearsome maidens of altogether uncertain age, and…
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