but some of them would never have heard the Gospel preached
from one year's end to the other, if the minister had not gone to them.
So, though the way was long and the roads rough at the best of seasons,
Mr Inglis went often to hold service in the little red school-house
there. It was not far on in November, but the night was as hard a night
to be out in as though it were the depth of winter, Mrs Inglis thought,
as the wind dashed the rain and sleet against the window out of which
she and her son David were trying to look. They could see nothing,
however, for the night was very dark. Even the village lights were but
dimly visible through the storm, which grew thicker every moment; with
less of rain and more of snow, and the moaning of the wind among the
trees made it impossible for them to hear any other sound.

"I ought to have gone with him, mamma," said the boy, at last.

"Perhaps so, dear. But papa thought it not best, as this is Frank's
last night here."

"It is quite time he were at home, mamma, even though the roads are
bad."

"Yes; he must have been detained. We will not wait any longer. We will
have prayers, and let the children go to bed; he will be very tired when
he gets home."

"How the wind blows! We could not hear the wagon even if he were quite
near. Shall I go to the gate and wait?"

"No, dear, better not. Only be ready with the lantern when he comes."

They stood waiting a little longer, and then David opened the door and
looked out.

"It will be awful on Hardscrabble to-night, mamma," said he, as he came
back to her side.

"Yes," said his mother, with a sigh, and then they were for a long time
silent. She was thinking how the wind would find its way through the
long-worn great coat of her husband, and how unfit he was to bear the
bitter cold. David was thinking how the rain, that had been falling so
heavily all the afternoon, must have gullied out the road down the north
side of Hardscrabble hill, and hoping that old Don would prove himself
sure-footed in the darkness.

"I wish I had gone with him," said he, again.

"Let us go to the children," said his mother.

The room in which the children were gathered was bright with
fire-light--a picture of comfort in contrast with the dark and stormy
night out upon which these two had been looking. The mother shivered a
little as she drew near the fire.

"Sit here, mamma."

"No, sit here; this is the best place." The eagerness was