THE DEAD LAMB

Supper over, the two ministers were shown back to the big, comfortable "sett'n'-room " and left to themselves, while Aunt Sue and Sally

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done up

the dishes" and the Deacon and his boys went to the barn and "done the chores." Hez and Steve were especially interested in the young lambs, and at once started on a hunt for new arrivals. Presently the excited voice of Hez rang out, announcing the birth of two twins" to his Blackie. But hardly had Hez ended when the sound of lamentation arose in another part of the yard:

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66 'It's dead! It's dead! Oh, it's dead!"

"What's dead, Stevie?" inquired the Deacon.

My Mollie's-little-lamb!" sobbed the lad.

Father and brother vainly tried to console the boy. Suddenly an idea struck him, born of the impression made upon his mind by the revival meetings.

"D'ye s'pose it's gone to heaven?" he asked anxiously. "Lambs don't go to heaven," replied Hez. "They hain't got no souls. They jes' die, an that's all ther' is to it. Ain't it, pa?"

"I guess so; ask yer ma," answered the Deacon.

This maternal reference was the father's invariable response when his sons propounded perplexing theological interrogatories to him. Then in soothing tones he said: "There, there; don't cry, Stevie. Ye kin pick out any other lamb in the flock ye want 'n' hev it fer yer own." "I'll tell ye what, Stevie," said Hez with loving inspiration; "I'll give ye one o' my two twins. An' ye kin take yer pick.'

"But Mollie won't hev no lamb 'f I do," sobbed Steve, in a fresh shower of tears.

The Deacon could think of nothing expedient to say, so he said nothing, but went back to his milking. Hez, in his childish way and with his childish instinct, gradually succeeded in comforting his brother, after the storm of grief had somewhat spent itself in weeping. Having buried the dead lamb temporarily in a snowbank, the two brothers ran to where Blackie's "two twins" lay, and after careful examination and critical discussion Steve made his selection. By this time his tears and sighs had given place to smiles and eager interest-grief for the dead had yielded to love for the living.

It was growing dusk when the boys completed the chores

by "bringin' in the night-wood 'n' kindlin'." Then the whole family gathered with the ministers in the sittingroom and "vis'ted." The death of Mollie's lamb was duly and solemnly announced, and Mr. Gurley sustained the theological doctrine declared by young Hez, that lambs had no souls and therefore could not go to heaven. So Steve concluded to do the best he could for the lamb, seeing that it must forego a blissful hereafter, by "givin' it a stunnin' fun'ral" as soon as the thawing of the ground should permit grave-digging. Aunt Sue remarked that Steve was 'beginnin' young to pattern arter growed-up folks; fer them 't 'peared to hev the least chance o' gittin' to heaven giner'lly got the fines' fun'rals, an' not seldom some o' the fines' preachin'."

Mr. Shore glanced uneasily at Mr. Gurley, and observed that he looked shocked; but the set-to which Mr. Shore feared did not ripen at this time.

Shortly before seven o'clock the Deacon lighted his lantern, Aunt Sue took one of the new-fangled kerosene lamps in her hand, and the whole party started for the schoolhouse, an eighth of a mile away. They picked their way along the road carefully, to avoid the soft places, where a misstep meant a plunge half way to the knee in the slush-not a matter of moment to the men or boys, with their high boots, but more serious to Aunt Sue or Sally. The rain had now settled down to a cold mist.

!

CHAPTER 2,

AT THE SCHOOLHOUSE

ON reaching the schoolhouse the Willett party found a team of sturdy horses and a pair of heavy "bobsleds" standing at the door. The big sleighbox was just emptying its load of a dozen or more men, women, and children, some of the latter mere babes. "How-d'-dews were exchanged in hearty farmer fashion, and Mr. Gurley was introduced. Purty bad goin', ain't it, Square?" asked Deacon Wil

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lett.

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Bad sleighin' an' wuss wheelin', Deacon," replied "Square" Nettle, ex-justice of the peace, the proprietor of

AT THE SCHOOLHOUSE

the team and sleighs, who as usual had picked up everybody along the road who wanted to ride. "The drif's hez b'en settled a goo' deal by this rain, but it'll be many a day afore the roads'll be open through. 'Cross the fiel's it's gittin' bare in a good many places, jes' 'nough to make it hard pullin' 'ith sleds, but it's better goin' thet way 'n' 'ith a waggin yit. Ye know where we shoveled thet cut through the drif's to cross the road nigh the fur corner o' your wood-lot; wal, the slosh's bolster deep there now."

"Is Gran'ma Soty coming out to-night, Sister Nettle?" inquired Mr. Shore.

No, poor critter!" replied Mrs. Nettle. "She's gittin' feebler ev'ry day. She sot up 'bout an hour 's arternoon an' tried to think she c'd come to meetin' to-night; but she fin❜lly gi'n it up. It's more'n a chance 'f she ever gits out ag'in.'

"Why, I didn't know she was so bad off," replied Mr. Shore, with feeling. "We must go round and see her to

morrow, Brother Gurley."

"It 'ould do 'er more good 'n medicine ef ye would," said Aunt Sue. "I was up there vis'tin' of 'er Wednesday, an' she said, so longin'-like, 't she did wan' to hear Brother Shore preach once more. She seems to realize 't the end ain't fur off."

"Yes, an' she's so happy an' resigned," said Mrs. Nettle. Seems 's ef she c'd look right into heaven a'ready."

By this time the occupants of the sleigh were all deposited on the big stoop. 'Squire Nettle's son Jake drove the spirited team to the fence and hitched it, while the others went inside the schoolhouse, the men and boys at one door and the women and girls at the other; for the distinction between the "men's side" and the "women's side" was rather strictly maintained, except in case of squalls, when the helpful husband and father sometimes crossed the sacred boundary to lend his aid.

Aunt Sue lighted her lamp and set it on one end of the teacher's desk. The solitary lamp that constituted an integral part of the schoolhouse belongings had already been lighted, and from the other end of the desk was doing its feeble best to dispel the gloom; in which ambitious effort it was assisted by a couple of lanterns hanging from nails in the window casings, and three tallow dips standing on as many desks. The darkness had decidedly the best of it;

but as the folks were there to hear rather than to see, this was not a serious drawback; and besides, spiritual light was perfectly compatible with physical darkness.

The teacher's desk, built of planed boards, stood between the two doors, on a platform about six inches high that now served for pulpit. A heavy "hummade" board chair completed the list of special provisions for the comfort and convenience of teachers and preachers; except that there was a bench against the wall behind the desk, on the 'platform, a seat of honor and authority, occupied by visitors whenever such appeared during school hours, and by surplus ministers or exhorters if any were present during religious services. A large box-stove directly in front of the teacher's desk, with the stovepipe running to the chimney at the rear end of the room, and two long, movable benches that did double duty, as seats for classes in school and as "mourners' benches " during revivals, with the rows of scholars' desks and benches, completed the noticeable furniture of the room.

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As Mr. Shore had predicted, the schoolhouse was crowded. Not only was the ordinary seating capacity absorbed but the short, loose boards that served for shelves under the scholars' desks had been taken out and placed across the aisles. The men folks" straddled over these temporary benches, while the "women folks" stepped nimbly from one board to another till they reached their destinations. The youngsters of four or five years and under found seats on the desks or ran about on the floor wherever there was space; and also found sleeping places on the same desks, or in the arms of father or mother-usually mother.

Such in general was the aspect which the Sugar Hill schoolhouse and its occupants presented to Mr. Gurley on his first visit; not that there was anything particularly novel or striking to him, for both he and Mr. Shore had been reared in rural Methodism of even more primitive surroundings, and had preached times without number in the old-fashioned log schoolhouses before the day of stoves and other modern enervating schoolhouse luxuries.

Upon entering the schoolhouse, Brother Gurley was introduced to such brethren and sisters as were accessible from the open space around the stove. All were strangers to him. Among them was Joshua Granger, the recognized

JOSHUA GRANGER, EXHORTER

II

and undisputed religious leader in the Sugar Hill district, a sort of vicar of the minister at The Forks. He was classleader, conducted the prayer-meetings, carried on a revival every winter, and commonly preached at the schoolhouse two or three times a month the year around, and occasionally at schoolhouses in neighboring districts. He was a product of that natural process of evolution by which the Methodist Episcopal church more than any other has everywhere developed ministerial talent in rural communities. He had held an exhorter's license for several years. Large, strongly built, healthy, and robust, he was not strikingly different in outward appearance from his farmer neighbors. But he had some talent for public speaking, and had cultivated it till he could talk on a short text a long time with characteristic ministerial subdivisional volubility. With better chances while young, he would have made a minister or lawyer of at least average ability. Unfortunately his schooling had been cut short at an early stage in “readin', 'ritin', and 'rithmetic." In later years he had taken up theology, but his range of study never got beyond the Bible and one large commentary thereon.

The cordiality of Joshua Granger's greeting of the two ministers was tempered by a duly deferential consideration for their superior rank. He had made a careful study of ministerial amenities, and he prided himself not a little on his knowledge and skill in this branch of religious duty. Throughout the meeting, with much tact, he maintained his position as quasi master of ceremonies, yet never encroaching upon the ground that properly belonged to regularly ordained preachers.

While Joshua was still talking with the two ministers, just after their arrival, and reporting progress in the revival work, Aunt Sue led Mrs. Granger forward and introduced her to Mr. Gurley. She was a slender, thin-faced, overworked-looking woman, but with an expression of intelligence and an air that betokened a certain degree of refinement. She had a quiet, crushed air, with not a trace of Aunt Sue's aggressiveness of look or manner.

There was another member of the Granger family who was not introduced to Mr. Gurley. It was Mary and Joshua's son Paul, a puny, undersized boy, with a bright face, but, aside from his physical inferiority, not especially noticeable among the other children, except for one thing: