less in the way of
business.

"Well, sir," said Henry, "you have given me a good lesson; now take a
hint from me; just you go and do all this before the public; for I never
saw you do any thing half as droll."

They all three shook their heads with one accord. Go out of the beaten
track, before an audience? Never. Such vagaries were only admissible in
private.

After this second day the fee was reduced to a gallon of ale.

But, on the third day, the pupil combined theory with practice. He told
his mother he was going to Cairnhope for the night. He then rode off to
Cairnhope Church. He had two large saddle-bags, containing provisions,
and tools of all sorts. He got safe across the moor just before sunset.
He entered the church, led the horse in with him, and put him into the
Squire's pew. He then struck a light, went into the chancel, and
looked at the picture. It was as he had left it; half on the wall, half
drooping over the altar-place. The walls were dank, and streaked here
and there with green. His footsteps echoed, and the edifice was all
dark, except within the rays of his lantern; it also sang and moaned in
a way to be accounted for by the action of the wind on a number of small
apertures; but, nevertheless, it was a most weird and ghostly sound. He
was glad of the companionship of his very horse.

He took his buckets to the mountain stream, and, in due course, filled
his trough, and left one bucket full for other uses. He then prepared
and lighted his forge. As he plied the bellows, and the coals gleamed
brighter and brighter, monumental figures came out and glared at him;
mutilated inscriptions wavered on the walls; portions of the dark walls
themselves gleamed in the full light, and showed the streaks and stains
of age and weather, and the shadow of a gigantic horse's head; and, as
the illuminated part seemed on fire by contrast, so the dark part of
the church was horribly black and mysterious, and a place out of which
a ghost or phantom might be expected, at any moment, to come forth into
that brilliant patch of light.

Young Little, who had entered on this business in all the skepticism of
the nineteenth century, felt awed, and began to wish he had selected
any other building in the world but this. He seemed to be desecrating a
tomb.

However, he mustered up his manly resolution. He looked up at a small
aperture in the roof, and saw a star glittering above: it seemed close,
and a type of that omnisc