ng out of town.

The air was soft and mild, and no snow was to be seen except a little
here and there by the roadside as we advanced northward. The sky had
become overcast, and showed signs of an approaching storm. The scenery
was generally bare and uninteresting. We followed the St. Croix river in
its course. Opposite St. Andrews it widens into a broad bay. It was then
near sunset, and the clouds broke away a little and gave a cheery, rosy
flush to the calm water.

Night soon settled down upon us. It was dark when we arrived at the ----
Hotel, after a drive of five hours. I had never been in C----, and this
was my first experience in hotel life alone.

I was ushered into a large, lonesome room, in total darkness except for
the light from the hall burner, which streamed dismally into its depths.
A tall, black shadow soon announced himself as the landlord, to whom I
made known my wants. His wife, a kind-hearted, energetic woman, took
compassion on me, and showed me into her own private parlor to get
warmed, for I was very chilly. Here the good lady's curiosity was piqued
somewhat to find that the young man who accompanied me was _not_ my
husband, and that I proposed to go on the next morning to Bangor alone.
I shuddered when she told me the journey was usually made in an open
conveyance. Think of riding all day and all night on a board slung
across an open wagon! And what if it should _rain_!

I bethought myself of two friends of mine who were visiting in C----,
and to them I despatched my cards. After tea, when I was seated quietly
in my room, Aunt Carter came. She is one of those good, kind souls who
are always aunts to everybody. She came to me with hearty sympathy. The
evening passed pleasantly away, for her simple words of faith and hope
cheered and consoled me.

I slept but little that night. I lay thinking of my father, and of the
morrow's journey, and listening to every sound. I fancied I heard it
raining. At last I was almost sure of it. When I peeped out of the
window in the gray of the dawn, the ground was white, and it was snowing
fast.

Soon after breakfast my kind friends appeared, and the good clergyman
also, who went down to make some inquiries about the stage coach for me,
and, returning soon, announced with a very grave countenance that it had
not connected with the cars at Bangor for nearly a week. In fact, that
it was unusual for it to do so at this season.

'It seems to have set in for a stor