nd waving to and fro in the night. He knew
the significance of it, and shook out the reins. The poor little animal
was so tired she could not breast the hill. He urged her forward. She
refused. Then, for the first time in his life, he took out his whip. He
did not strike her, and to this day he thanks God for it. But he merely
shook it over her head. Stung by the indignity, she drew herself
together and sprang against the hill. She went up and up, like a deer,
whilst the trap jolted and swung from side to side. Just as they
reached the crest of the hill and heard the shouts, 'Hurry, your
reverence, you'll never overtake her,' the little mare plunged forward
and fell heavily. The priest was flung against a boulder and struck
insensible. When he came to, the first word he heard was, 'She's dead, I
fear, your reverence.' 'Who?' said the priest; 'the woman?' 'No, your
reverence, but the mare!' 'Thank God!' said the priest; and he meant it.
Dazed, stupefied, bleeding, he stumbled across rocks of red sandstone,
heather, gorse; he slipped over some rude stepping-stones that crossed a
mountain torrent; and, at last, made his way to the rude cabin in the
rough gorges of the mountain. The doctor was washing his instruments as
the priest entered.

"'It's all right, Father James,' he said cheerily. 'The neatest case I
ever had. But it was touch and go. Hello! you're bleeding on the temple.
What's up?'

"'Oh, nothing,' said the priest. 'The mare stumbled and threw me. I may
go in?'

"'Certainly,' said the doctor; 'but just allow me to wash that ugly
wound.'

"'Wound? 't is only a scratch.'

"The priest went in and went through his ordinary ministrations. Then he
came out, and still dazed and not knowing what to think, he stumbled
back to the crest of the mountain road. There were men grouped around
the fallen animal and the broken trap. They made way for him. He knelt
down by the poor beast and rubbed her ears, as he was in the habit of
doing, and whispered, 'Winnie!' The poor animal opened her eyes full
upon him, then trembled convulsively, and died.

"'You will bury her, boys,' said the priest, 'over there under that
cairn of stones, and bring me down the trap and harness in the morning.'

"What his feelings were, as he walked home, I leave you to realize. We
did not hear of it for some days; but that 'Thank God!' changed all my
opinions of him. I looked up to him ever since, and see under all his
pomposity and dignity a