scouts, an' on the firin' line where it was hot enough. In the
hottest part of it General Johnston rid up, an' when he saw our
exposed position he told us to hold the line, but to lay down for
shelter. A big tree was nigh me an' I got behin' it. The Gineral
seed me an' he smiled an' sed:

"'Oh, Bishop,'"--his voice fell to a proud and tender tone--"did you
know it was Gineral Johnston that fust named me the Bishop?"

"'Oh, Bishop,' he said, 'I can see you puttin' a tree betwixt yo'se'f
an' special Providence.' 'Yes, Gineral,' I sed, 'an' I looks on it as
a very special Providence jus' at this time.'

"He laughed, an' the boys hoorawed an' he rid off.

"Our lives an' the destiny of our course is fixed as firmly as the
laws that wheel the planets. Why, I have knowed men to try to hew out
their own destiny an' they'd make it look like a gum-log hewed out
with a broad axe, until God would run the rip-saw of His purpose into
them, an' square them out an' smooth them over an' polish them into
pillars for His Temple.

"What is, was goin' to be; an' the things that's got to come to us
has already happened in God's mind.

"I've knowed poor an' unpretentious, God-fearin' men an' women to put
out their hands to build shanties for their humble lives, an' God
would turn them into castles of character an' temples of truth for
all time.

"Elder Butts will lead in prayer."

It was a long prayer and was proceeding smoothly, until, in its
midst, from the front row, Archie B.'s head bobbed cautiously up.
Keeping one eye on his father, the praying Elder, he went through a
pantomime for the benefit of the young Hillites around him, who, like
himself, had had enough of prayer. Before coming to the meeting he
had cut from a black sheep's skin a gorgeous set of whiskers and a
huge mustache. These now adorned his face.

There was a convulsive snicker among the young Hillites behind him.
The Elder opened one eye to see what it meant. They were natural
children, whose childhood had not been dwarfed in a cotton mill, and
it was exceedingly funny to them.

But the young Cottontowners laughed not. They looked on in stoical
wonder at the presumption of the young Hillites who dared to do such
a deed.

Humor had never been known to them. There is no humor in the all-day
buzz of the cotton factory; and fun and the fight of life for daily
bread do not sleep in the same crib.

The Hillites tittered and giggled.

"Maw," whispered Miss Bu