flapping off seaward in long, black lines. And from
between the hills on either side came glimpses of swamp woodland, in the
midst of which some maple, earlier than its green fellows, had taken a
tinge of orange, and flamed in the eyes of the little traveller with a
gorgeousness she had never seen in the woods of Provence. Then came
towns nestling under bluffs of red quarry-stones, towns upon wooded
plains,--all with a white newness about them; and a brig, with horses on
its deck, piled over with bales of hay, comes drifting lazily down with
the tide, to catch an offing for the West Indies; and queer-shaped
flat-boats, propelled by broad-bladed oars, surge slowly athwart the
stream, ferrying over some traveller, or some fish-peddler bound to the
"P'int" for "sea-food".

Toward noon the travellers land at a shambling dock that juts into the
river, from which point they are to make their way, in such country
vehicle as the little village will supply, across to Ashfield. And when
they are fairly seated within, the parson, judging that acquaintance has
ripened sufficiently to be put to serious uses, says, with more than
usual gravity,--

"I trust, Adaly, that you are grateful to God for having protected you
from all the dangers of the deep."

"Do you think there was much danger, New Papa?"

"There's always danger, said the parson, gravely. "The Victory might
have been blown in pieces last night, and we all been killed, Adaly."

"Oh, terrible!" says Addle. "And did such a thing ever really happen?"

"Yes, my child."

"Tell me all about it, New Papa, please"; and she put her little hand in
his.

"Not now, Adaly,--not now. I want to know if you have been taught about
God, in your old home."

"Oh, the good God! To be sure I have, over and over and over"; and she
made a little piquant gesture, as if the teaching had been sometimes
wearisome.

This gayety of speech on such a theme was painful to the Doctor.

"And you have been taught to pray, Adaly?"

"Oh, yes! Listen now. Shall I tell you one of my prayers, New Papa?
<i>Voyons</i>, how is it"--

"Never mind,--never mind, Adaly; not here, not here. We are taught to
enter into our closets when we pray."

"Closets?"

"Yes, my child,--to be by ourselves, and to be solemn."

"I don't like solemn people much," said Adele, in a quiet tone.

"But do you love God, my child?"

"Love Him? To be sure I do"; and after a little pause--"All good
children love Him; and I