f them lived in a community
so utterly primitive, if not uncouth. It was plain to be seen that he
was a Southerner, and in the joy of a few minutes' conversation with a
young man whose language and manners bespoke the gentleman, Mr. Lambert
speedily made known to him that his health had suffered in New Orleans
and his physicians had insisted on total change of climate, and the
great Northwest was a new, untrodden field for the sons of the cross, of
his sect at least. He had read with admiration of the missionary work
accomplished among the savage Indians by the church of Rome, but there
were heathen rather more intractable than they, said he, with a sigh.
Mr. Loring was sympathetic, but already informed on that point. What he
wished to learn was, did the rector know of any family among his
parishioners at whose table he could find his daily bread for a
reasonable consideration. Loring, as has been seen, was a man to whom
the converse of his fellow-men, as found upon our frontier, was neither
edifying nor improving. He preferred the society of his own thoughts.
The rector, the General (Colonel Newcome, it will be remembered, always
accorded the head of column to the church), the adjutant-general of the
new department and one solitary subaltern of cavalry were the only men
he had met since reporting at Omaha whom he found really congenial. But
then it must be remembered that it was the early summer, and the troops
were all afield.

The rector brought the tips of his fingers together and bowed his gray
head, his characteristic attitude in reflection and repose. Yes, he knew
of one, a woman widowed but a year ago, who was striving to keep her
home by taking boarders, and who perhaps could find room for him at her
table. Already she had given shelter to a most estimable woman, a widow
like herself, a woman of many sorrows, whom he had well known during
the troublous days in New Orleans, a gentlewoman, he might say, whose
birth and breeding were apparent to the most casual observer, a Mrs.
Fletcher, who had come to him for advice, and who, through his
recommendation gladly given, had recently gone to a good position--a
lucrative position--and a home at Gate City. Loring was politely
interested, but could the rector direct him to the house? He would call
at once and make inquiries. The rector could, of course, but he was
aging, and he loved a listener. He hated to let a hearer go. Might he
ask if Mr. Loring was any connection