d Tom Hossie, whom no peril of
that coast, savagely continuing through seventy years, had overcome or
daunted, but age had gently drawn away. I had watched them bear the
coffin by winding paths along the Tickle shore and up the hill,
stopping here to rest and there to rest, for the way was long; and
now, sitting in the yellow sunshine of that kind day, with the fool of
Twist Tickle for company, I watched them come again, their burden
deposited in the inevitable arms. I wondered if the spirit of old Tom
Hossie rejoiced in its escape. I wondered if it continued in pitiable
age or had returned to youth--to strength for action and wish for
love. I wondered, with the passionate curiosity of a lad, as I watched
the procession of simple folk disperse, far off, to supper and to the
kisses of children, if the spirit of old Tom Hossie had rather sail
the seas he had sailed and love the maids of our land or dwell in the
brightest glory painted for us by the prophets. I could, then, being a
lad, conceive no happier world than that in which I moved, no joy
aside from its people and sea and sunlight, no rest apart from the
mortal love of Judith; but, now, grown older, I fancy that the spirit
of old Tom Hossie, wise with age and vastly weary of the labor and
troublous delights of life, hungered and thirsted for death.

The church bell broke upon this morbid meditation.

"Hark!" says Moses. "'Tis the first bell."

'Twas a melodious call to worship--throbbing sweetly across the
placid water of our harbor, beating on, liquidly vibrant, to rouse the
resting hills of Twin Islands.

"You'll be off, Moses?"

"Ay," says he; "for mother always 'lowed 'twas good for a man t' go t'
church, an' I couldn't do nothin', Dannie, that mother wouldn't like.
I seem, lad, t' hear her callin', in that bell. 'Come--dear!' says
she, 'Come--dear! Come--dear!' Tis like she used t' call me from the
door. 'Come, dear,' says she; 'you'll never be hurt,' says she, 'when
you're within with me.' So I 'low I'll go t' church, Dannie, where
mother would have me be. 'You don't _need_ t' leave the parson scare
you, Moses,' says she; 'all you got t' do, dear,' says she, 'is t'
remember that your mother loves you. You're so easy to scare, poor
lad!' says she; 'but never forget _that_' says she, 'an' you'll never
be feared o' God. In fair weather,' says she, 'a man may need no Hand
t' guide un; but in times o' trouble,' says she, 'he've jus' got t'
have a God. I foun