now was paler than any man or woman had
ever seen it before.

Lifting his right hand the Rev. Elias Tupper commanded an intense and
awed silence. "Ambrose Thompson is before us to-night openly to confess
his sins," he announced in a loud voice.

Still the tall man did not move and not even a muscle of his set face
pulsated. A moment of waiting or longer must have gone by--nobody could
have guessed the exact passage of time--and yet Uncle Ambrose appeared
insensible.

The minister cleared his throat. "If Ambrose Thompson is unable to speak
for himself, then I will do my best to speak for him."

But at this the presumably repentant sinner rose up slowly, very slowly,
almost it would seem by inches, until he stood taller than any other
person in the new red brick church.

"It ain't my way to pray before a audience," he began quietly and with
his gray head bowed, although his words could be distinctly heard, "and
I don't know as I feel called to do any special repentin' this evenin',
seein' as I got up on this here mourning bench by accident and with no
idea but to set and listen fer a while. Still I reckon I got sins enough
to be sorry 'bout most any time the chance comes." Ambrose then seemed
to be reflecting for a moment, and it is just possible that during this
pause the thin ghost of a smile played like heat lightning about the end
of his sensitive nose, although his expression continued perfectly
reverent.

"I wouldn't be a mite surprised though, Lord," he went on in almost a
conversational tone, "ef my neighbours wasn't better able to confess my
sins fer me than I am fer myself, bein's as we've all got such special
talents fer our neighbours' motes. The trouble is I'm none too sure one
man can _precisely_ understand another man's, Heavenly Father, you've so
many and various ways of revealin' yourself to your children. Course I
know, Lord, I've loved fine apparel too dear and smokin' and the
outdoors when mebbe I should 'a' been workin' in, and mebbe I've laughed
now and then over things folks think should 'a' been cried over. And
I've had my hours of distrustin' and repinin' and forgettin' it's God's
privilege to run His world 'cordin' to His idees, not mine. But, O Lord,
what's the use mentionin' things that ain't cheerful even to you? I'm
plumb sorry fer all I've done that's bad 'thout goin' into further
details."

And here again Uncle Ambrose paused; however, not one of his strained
and over-eager listen