want to try your hand at "slabbing," do you? I warn you that the
labour is no joke, and the planks never look so neat as those from the
sawmill.'

'We have flung "looks" overboard long ago,' replied Arthur. 'Come, teach
me, like a good fellow.'

'Choose your tree as clean and straight in the grain as possible.'

'And how am I to tell how its grain runs?' asked the pupil.

'Experiment is the only certainty; but if the tree be perfectly clear of
knots for thirty or forty feet, and its larger limbs drooping downwards,
so as to shelter the trunk in a measure from the influence of the sun,
these are presumptions in favour of the grain running straight.'

'What has the sun to do with it?'

'The grain of most trees naturally inclines to follow the annual course
of the sun. Hence its windings, in great measure. Having selected and
felled your pine, cut it across into logs of the length of plank you
want.'

'But you said something of experiment in deciding about the grain of the
wood.'

'Oh, by cutting out a piece, and testing it with the axe, to see whether
it splits fair. When you have the logs chopped, mark the ends with a bit
of charcoal into the width of your planks: then slab them asunder with
wedges.'

'Holt, where did you pick up such a variety of knowledge as you have?'

'I picked up this item among the lumber-men. You must know I spent more
than one long vacation in exploring the most-out-of-the-way locations I
could find. But I'd advise you to go to the sawmill for your planks,
though I do understand the theory of slabbing.'

After due consideration--and as glass for the window was a want for
which the forest could supply no substitute--it was agreed that all
should take a half-holiday next day, and go down to the 'Corner' to
Uncle Zack's store.

'Now that is settled,' said Robert, with a little difficulty, 'I wanted
to say--that is, I've been thinking--that we are here in the wilderness,
far away from all churches and good things of that kind, and we ought to
have prayers of our own every evening, as my mother has at home.'

'Certainly,' said both Arthur and Sam Holt.

'I have never so felt the presence of God,' added Robert solemnly,
'as since I've been in these forest solitudes; never so felt my utter
dependence upon Him for everything.'

'No,' rejoined Sam. 'He seems to draw very near to the soul in the midst
of these His grand works. The very stillness exalts one's heart towards
Him.'

And s