ve.

It is Sunday afternoon; the fog-horn that Melchias Tibbitts gave--it
serves as bell; the battered schoolhouse as church; and for Sunday
raiment? some little reverent, aspiring compromise of an unwonted white
collar, stretched stiff and holy and uncomfortable about the stalwart
neck above a blue flannel shirt, or a new pair of rubber boots--the
trousers much tucked in--worn with an air of conscious, deprecating
pride.

But the women will be fine. God only knows how! but be sure, in some
pitiful, sweet way they will be fine.

There are many panes of glass out of the windows, the panels of the
doors are out; so better they can see the clouds pass: it is beautiful.

Oh, naught have I either, nor wisdom, nor fine speech--only a little
knowledge of shipwreck out yonder, and mirth, and tears, and love. The
windows and panels of my life are no strong plate, polished and
glittering to all beholders; they are stained and broken through. Let
me come in and sit with ye.

"We should like to open our meetin' with singin'," said Superintendent
Skates; "will one of the Pointers lead us in singin'?"

The Pointers were the aristocrats of this region, living twelve miles
away at the Point, in the midst of two grocery stores and a millinery
establishment; there were two of them here for a Sunday drive and
pastime. They were silent.

"I see," said Elder Skates patiently, "that a few of the Crooked Rivers
have drove down to-day, too. Will one of the Crooked Rivers lead us in
singin'?"

Lower down in the scale than the Pointers were they of Crooked River,
but still far above the Basins; those present were not singers, they
were silent.

"Then will one of the Capers lead us in singin'?" very meekly and
patiently persisted Elder Skates.

Nearer, and of low degree, were they of the Cape, but still above the
Basins. They were silent.

"I know," said Elder Skates, his subdued tone buoyant now with an
undertone of hope, "that one of the Basins will lead us in singin'!"

For the Basins had reached those cheerful depths where there is no
social or artistic status to maintain; so low as to be expected to do,
or attempt to do, whatever might be asked of them, even though failure
plunged them, if possible, in deeper depths of abasement. There was
nothing beneath them except the Artichokes; and it was seldom, very
seldom, an Artichoke was present.

But the Basins, though so low, were modest.

"Can't one of the Basins star