"It was Peter's first appearance in an official capacity, and he stepped
with sufficient dignity into the street, where a long line of wagons and
chaises, led off by the mourners' coach and the big black hearse, waited
the signal to start, while in the door-yard and along the sidewalk were
ranged the foot-passengers; for at a funeral in Hilltown everybody went
to the grave.

"A passing breeze caught a piece of paper lying in the road, and
flirted it close to Peter's eyes. He gave a tremendous leap sideways,
and it was a marvel no one was struck by his flying heels, then
gathering himself together he ran. How he did run! The good folks
scattered right and left with amazing quickness, considering their
habits of life; for in the slow little town, every body took things fair
and easy, and the white horse dashed past the string of wagons, the
mourners' equipage, and the tall black hearse. There was a cloud of
dust, a rattling of wheels, a clatter of hoofs, and Peter and the parson
were far down the road. The people gazed after their departing spiritual
guide in speechless astonishment. The mourners' heads were thrust far
out of the coach windows. Even the sleepy farm-horses pricked up their
ears: while old Bill, the sexton's clumsy big-footed beast, which for
fifteen years had carried the dead folks of Hilltown to their graves,
and had never before been known, on these solemn occasions to depart
from his slow walk, made a most astonishing departure; for, taking his
driver unawares, he suddenly started after the flying white steed,
breaking into a lumbering gallop, that set plumes nodding, curtains
flapping, and glasses rattling, and made the huge unwieldly vehicle
lurch and bob about in a way to threaten a shocking catastrophe.

"A vigorous twitch of the lines, and a loud 'Whoa, now, Bill! Whoa, I
tell ye!' soon brought the sexton's beast to a stand-still. I am sure he
must have shared his master's surprise at such unseeming conduct, who
wondered 'What in time had got into the blamed crittur!' But neither
voice nor rein checked Peter's speed. On he flew, down the hill past the
post-office, the meeting-house, and the tavern. It was a straight road,
and his driver kept him to it. Fortunately there were no collisions, and
at the last long ascent his pace slackened and he turned of his own
accord in at the parsonage gate.

"At the village store and the tavern that evening, Peter's evil behavior
was talked about.

"'He's a s