aintest appearance of respect for the clerical brother.

"I know, but I'd rather meet him some time when I don't feel so much
like a mummy in a museum," urged Charlie again. "Can't you get me out of
this, Ned?"

"There isn't time, honestly. He's right here, or I would," answered Ned
in a low voice, as he drew his friend's soft hat forward and turned down
the brim. "You're all right; and, besides, he's such an old duffer that
he won't notice anything. He won't stay here, any way; he comes to see
cousin Euphemia, and help her out when she gets in a tight place with
Wang Kum. Wang's been cutting church lately, and most likely the
doctor's come to see about it."

The Reverend Gabriel Hornblower belonged to the fast vanishing school of
mossbacks, or "old-timers," as they more elegantly termed themselves,
the early settlers who had watched the State grow from its first
squatter population to its present comparative civilization. A mere boy
in the stormy days of Sixty-three, he had joined one of the many trains
of ox-teams which started across the country, on their slow, toilsome
march to the far West; and, for the next few years, his life had been
one of continual excitement and hardship. His father and grandfather
before him had been ministers; so it was small wonder that Gabriel, upon
arriving at man's estate, should feel that both his family tradition and
his name had called him to the life of a wandering preacher among the
mining camps and scattered ranches of the region, until he had finally
settled down to take charge of the little church in Blue Creek. He was
neither a great man, nor an educated one. On the contrary, he was
ignorant of any life outside of his own narrow sphere, and intolerant of
all spirit of advance or change, singularly devoid of tact, but literal,
honest, and well-meaning. Moreover, he was absolutely self-satisfied,
but utterly lacking in the sense of fun which makes conceited people so
much less disagreeable, since it gives them a glimmering appreciation of
their own absurdity.

As far as his outward man was concerned, the Reverend Gabriel Hornblower
was not fair to look upon. Although Mrs. Pennypoker never failed to
speak of him as "old Dr. Hornblower," in reality he was not far from
forty-five; but he looked a score of years older, for his constant
exposure to the fierce mountain gales and the burning suns of summer had
tanned and dried him until his complexion closely resembled a withered
se