s in audible tones until I was
nearly frantic. I found myself shouting consoling platitudes to a
sobbing, grief-stricken band of relatives and endeavouring to drown the
noise of the children by roaring--the lion's part a la Bottom. It was
distracting. I was a very young minister at the time and the
perspiration fairly rained from me. That's what makes me remember it was
a warm day.

When we got through the services after every one of the six hundred had,
in the language of the local undertaker, "viewed the remains," we went
to the cemetery. I rode behind a horse which was thirty-eight years old.
I do not know what his original colour had been but at present he was
white and hoary with age.

"I always use him for funerals," said the undertaker, "because he
naturally sets the proper pace for a funeral procession."

"Mercy," said I, "I hope he won't die on the road."

"Well, if he does," continued the undertaker, "your services will come
in handy. We can bury him proper. I am awful fond of that horse. I
shouldn't wonder if he hadn't been at as many as a thousand funerals in
his life."

I thought that he had all the gravity of his grewsome experiences,
especially in his gait. The Christmas dinners were all late on account
of the funeral but they were bountiful and good nevertheless and I much
enjoyed mine.

Another Christmas I was snow-bound on one of the obscure branches of a
Western railroad. If the train had been on time I would have made a
connection and have reached home by Christmas Eve, but it was very
evident, as the day wore on, that it was not going to be on time. Indeed
it was problematical whether it would get anywhere at all. It was
snowing hard outside. Our progress had become slower and slower. Finally
in a deep cut we stopped. There were four men, one woman, and two little
children in the car--no other passengers in the train. The train was of
that variety known out West as a "plug" consisting of a combination
baggage and smoker and one coach.

One of the trainmen started on a lonely and somewhat dangerous tramp of
several miles up the road to the next station to call for the
snow-plough, and the rest of us settled down to spend the night.
Certainly we could not hope to be extricated before the next evening,
especially as the storm then gave no signs of abating. We all went up to
the front of the car and sat around the stove in which we kept up a
bright fire,--fortunately we had plenty of fuel--and