ed puppies or dissipated and reprobate dogs would
care to do.

Over all things rest brooded, and out of the rest grew holy thoughts
and hopes. It was a day of beginnings. For the past, broken and stained,
there was a new offer of oblivion and healing, and the heart was
summoned to look forward to new life and to hope for better things, and
to drink in all those soothing, healing influences that memory and faith
combine to give; so that when the day was done, weary and discouraged
men and women began to feel that, perhaps after all they might be able
to endure and even to hope for victory.

The minister rose earlier on Sabbath than on other days, the
responsibility of his office pressing hard upon him. Breakfast was more
silent than usual, ordinary subjects of conversation being discouraged.
The minister was preoccupied and impatient of any interruption of his
thoughts. But his wife came to the table with a sweeter serenity than
usual, and a calm upon her face that told of hidden strength. Even
Maimie could notice the difference, but she could only wonder. The
secret of it was hidden from her. Her aunt was like no other woman that
she knew, and there were many things about her too deep for Maimie's
understanding.

After worship, which was brief but solemn and intense, Lambert hurried
to bring round to the front the big black horse, hitched up in the
carryall, and they all made speed to pack themselves in, Maimie and her
aunt in front, and Hughie on the floor behind with his legs under the
seat; for when once the minister was himself quite ready, and had got
his great meerschaum pipe going, it was unsafe for any one to delay him
a single instant.

The drive to the church was an experience hardly in keeping with the
spirit of the day. It was more exciting than restful. Black was a horse
with a single aim, which was to devour the space that stretched out
before him, with a fine disregard of consequence. The first part of the
road up to the church hill and down again to the swamp was to Black, as
to the others, an unmixed joy, for he was fresh from his oats and eager
to go, and his driver was as eager to let him have his will.

But when the swamp was reached, and the buggy began to leap from log
to log of the corduroy, Black began to chafe in impatience of the rein
which commanded caution. Indeed, the passage of the swamp was always
more or less of an adventure, the result of which no one could foretell,
and it took al