ibbons in their hair were playing quoits with
horseshoes. A rowboat was carrying passengers over the river to meet
the evening train, and under the sweetness of the twilight George's
spirits arose lightly to their level, his old faith returned to him,
and he looked up with a new sense of fellowship to Joe, who was
filling a pipe with his favorite "towhead."

"It's a pity you don't smoke," said Joe, carefully striking a match
and holding his cap before it, "for it seems a gift thrown away; and
this tobacco is uncommon good, though you might fancy it a notion too
strong. I've noticed that most preachers smoke, although they don't
take kindly to drinking. I suppose they think it wouldn't seem the
proper thing, and perhaps it wouldn't; but there's Parson Robinson,--I
should think that a good, solid drink would be a real comfort to him
sometimes. He's got a hard pull of it with a half share of victuals
and a double share of children, so the two ends hardly ever see each
other, much less think of meeting."

George hesitated for reply. He thought Joe was unnecessarily rough at
times, and alluded to the ministry much too frequently. He had fancied
when he left home that his blue flannel and gray tweed, with rather a
jovial manner, would divest him of all resemblance to a theological
student, and enable him to meet his companions on the ground of a
common humanity, especially as he had at present no missionary
intentions excepting those that might flow indirectly from his
personal influence. Still, while he wanted Joe to recognize his broad
liberality, he owed it to himself not to be loose in his expression of
opinion.

"Well, yes," he said, slowly, "I suppose it would help a man to forget
his troubles for a time, but the getting over the spree and coming
back to the same old bothers, not a bit better for the forgetting,
would hardly be much comfort, even if the thing were right."

"Maybe not," replied Joe; "I s'pose it wouldn't be comfortable if
those were your feelin's, but I reckon you don't know much about it
unless from hearsay. But I tell you one thing, whiskey's a friend to
be trusted"--adding, slowly, with a glance at George's face--"to get
you into trouble if you let it get the upper hand of you. It's like a
woman in that! It begins with the same letter too, and that's another
likeness!"

George made no answer to this joke, over which Joe chuckled enough for
both, and then returned to the charge:

"I've seen a g