the Rev. Mr.
Sargent, his text being John x, 3.' Now, I ask you if that gives you any
picture of what the meeting was like? Everybody who was there knew that
Mr. Sargent preached, and nobody who was absent could get anything out
of such a report. So what's the use of printing it? I thought I'd write
a true report of what I saw--and I'll bet it will be read in Hempfield."

The old live gleam was in Nort's eyes.

Here on my desk I have the very manuscript from which Nort read, and I
give it just as it was written, as a documentary evidence of Nort's
life.

The usual forenoon service was held in the Congregational
Church on Sunday. Being a hot day, the Rev. Mr. Sargent wore
his black alpaca coat, and preached earnestly for thirty
minutes, his text being John x, 3. Miss Daisy Miller played
a selection from Mozart, though the piano was unfortunately
out of tune. There were in attendance fifteen women, mostly
old, seven men, and four children, besides the choir.
During the sermon old Mr. Johnson went to sleep and Mrs.
Johnson ate four peppermints. Deacon Mitchell took up a
collection of fifty-six cents, besides what was in the
envelopes. Following is a complete list of those in
attendance:

--and Nort solemnly read off the names.

I wish I could describe the hush which followed Nort's reading, and the
horror in Harriet's face. Fergus was the first to break the tension. He
seemed to be slowly strangling, and his face contrived to twist itself
into the most alarming contortions. The old Captain finally observed
indulgently:

"Nort will have his little joke."

"Joke!" exclaimed Nort. "Isn't every word of it true? I leave it to Miss
Grayson if I haven't been absolutely accurate. And I could have said a
lot more about the service that would have been equally true--and a
great deal funnier."

I could see generations of Puritan ancestors marshalling themselves for
the fray in Harriet's horrified countenance. I could scarcely keep from
laughing.

"Yes," I began, "every word is true----"

"The piano tuner," broke in Harriet, "couldn't come last week."

"But, Nort," I continued; "you may have seen the church in Hempfield,
but have you felt it?"

"Even if old Mrs. Johnson _does_ eat peppermints----" Harriet was
saying.

"Then you wouldn't put the truth in the _Star_?" said Nort.

I was about to reply, when the old Captain raised a commanding hand.

"The t