strength failed me; I drooped heavily; but Aunt Carter's 'man'
was by me, sure enough. His protecting arm supported me, and his calm
and steady voice penetrated even my deadened hearing, as he asked my
permission to apply some snow to my forehead. I uttered an almost
inarticulate assent. There was one blank moment, and then the refreshing
coolness on my brow and on my hands revived me. I apologized for the
trouble I had given. 'We all have mothers and sisters,' he replied,
quietly, as he poured a draught from his travelling flask for me. My
distrust of him and his 'pocket pistol,' too, had vanished.

The Scotchman also was unwearied in his attention to my comfort. Did the
snow blow in upon me? He would lower the curtain. Did I wish more air?
he would raise it again. Were my feet becoming chilled? He would tuck in
the buffalo. Between the two I fared certainly as comfortably as
circumstances would permit.

The weather was still mild, though colder than before. As the day wore
on, the wind began to rise, and I observed frequent eddies and
whirlwinds of snow and ominous grooves around every wayside stone. Would
the storm increase and drift? In that case my chance of getting to
Bangor in time was doubtful enough.

We reached our next stopping place at half past four, P.M. It was a
weather-stained house, which we must have entered by the back door, for
we passed into the kitchen at once, where were a stout, pleasant-faced
woman, with two stout, pleasant-faced daughters, and a big fat yellow
dog, who sat up in a chair beside them at the window, as though he were
indeed a part of the family. We were ushered into a small room beyond,
which rejoiced in another glorious wood fire, before which the
Englishman duly planted me, and the Scotchman my plank and brick. Over
the mantel was another version of the sepulchral monument with the
weeping woman and willow, in whimsical contrast with the jolly,
rollicking fire beneath, which gave us such a hearty welcome.

As we sat luxuriating in the warmth, the two fat girls in the kitchen
began to vocalize with low sweet voices that harmonized pleasantly, 'Do,
re, mi, si, la, si, do.' Evidently there had been a singing school in
the neighborhood. Presently they struck into 'Marching Along,' which
they sang with considerable spirit.

In the mean time, an overgrown youth, apparently belonging to the house,
who sat in one corner, tilting his chair, said, addressing all of us at
once, 'Wal,