r of our expedition, is a veteran
school-teacher, in one of the largest and most successful of the
Friends' boarding-schools. To him I think there is neither old nor new
in doctrine; there is only the truth, and the only way to be sure of it
is by living. He is a fervent instructor, to whom an indifferent
scholar is a fascinating problem, and a pupil who "cannot understand
mathematics" offers a new adventure. But part of his instruction, and
the part to which he gives himself most ardently, is the knowledge and
love of the great out-of-doors. Every summer he runs a guest-camp in
the Adirondacks, and in the fall he gives a big camp-supper for the old
pupils of his school, who come back by the hundred to renew their
comradeship with "Master Thomas." It is good to have an academic title
like that. Arthur and William and Walter are among his old boys, and
they still call him by that name. But it is partly because he has also
been their master in fire-making, and tent-pitching, and cooking, and
canoe-building, and other useful arts which are not in the curriculum
of book-learning.

Here, then, I have sketched the friends who sat with me before the
glowing logs on that cool, starry night, within a few miles of the
railroad and not far away from the roaring town, yet infinitely deep in
the quietude of nature's heart. Of the talk I can remember little,
except that it was free and friendly, natural and good. But one or two
stories that they told me of a famous old Philadelphia Quaker, Nicholas
Waln, have stuck in my memory.

His piety was tempered with a strong sense of humour, and on one
occasion when he was visiting a despondent sister, he was much put out
by her plaintive assertions that she was going to die. "I have no
doubt," said he finally, "but that thou will; and when thou gets to
heaven give my love to the Apostle Paul, and tell him I wish he would
come back to earth and explain some of the hard things in his
epistles." At another time he overtook a young woman Friend in worldly
dress, upon which he remarked, "Satin without, and Satan within." But
this time he got as good as he gave, for the young woman added, "And
old Nick behind!" When it was the fashion to wear a number of capes,
one above another, on a great-coat, Nicholas met a young acquaintance
dressed in the mode. Taking hold of one of the capes, the old Quaker
asked innocently what it was. "That is Cape Hatteras," said the pert
youth. "And this?" said Nichol