d brakeman now drew him inside the car, intending to
place his wandering friend back into his former quarters as soon as the
train stopped at the next station.

When the eyes of the countryman had taken in the scene, the thought
immediately suggested itself that this must be some sort of a meeting-house
or chapel that was travelling along.

He stood for a few minutes regarding the people before him; then turning a
solemn face to the brakeman asked, in a properly subdued voice, as became
the situation:

"Is there preachin' here the day?"

Not comprehending the meaning of this question, but thinking the countryman
meditated a religious attack on those who were present, the brakeman
replied:

"Not to-day; these are good Catholics."

"Ye dinna tell me!" and his eyes and mouth expanded in surprise. "An' are
they repeatin' their prayers?" he innocently asked.

"Oh, yes, everyone of them," was the reply.

"Then let me oot o' this!" he cried, reaching for the door. "It's to
Halifax I want to go, so open the door an' let me oot o' this."

"There! sit down and be quiet, or you'll get put out fast enough," replied
the brakeman, giving the man a shove into the seat. "You sit still where
you are, mind, or you'll get into trouble," he added, as he turned to
attend to his duties outside.

Here was his chance. Our friend from the country felt that he was in
trouble already. He had no intention of joining the worshippers, for he was
a member of the good old Scotch Kirk; so he opened the car-door, and
stepped out to the platform outside.

The swift, sidelong jerks almost took him off his feet. Grasping the
hand-rail, and looking around for some means of escape, he cautiously
stepped across into the better furnished first-class car behind.

"Bless me, but I'm in luck!" was his inward comment, as he beheld the
comfortable seats. Taking the first empty one, he sank down on the cushions
with evident delight shining from his eyes at his blissful surroundings.

But the argus-eyed conductor soon spied him, and not recognizing him as a
ticket-holder, swooped down upon him at once.

"Your ticket, sir."

"The same to yersel', ma frien'!" was the courteous reply, thinking this
some new form of salutation.

"Here! no nonsense! where's your ticket? let's see where you're going."

"Weel, sir, I'm hopin' to get to Halifax some time 'fore long. We seem to
be gaun as the craws flee, so nae doot we'll soon get there. Does
this--er--bu