was about as tumbledown as a place can become where wind and storm
have, for many years, been allowed to work havoc, they saw the old
crone standing erect and sober at the roadside, on the same spot
where she usually sat in a drunken stupor, lurching to and fro, and
babbling incoherently, and with her were four of the children. All
five were now washed and combed, and as decently dressed as was
possible for them to be.

When the persons seated in the first cart caught sight of them,
they slackened their speed and drove by very slowly; the others did
likewise, walking their horses.

All the Jerusalem-farers suddenly burst into tears, the grown-ups
crying softly, while the children broke into loud sobs and wails.

Nothing had so moved them as the sight of Beggar Lina standing at
the roadside clean and sober. Even to this day their eyes fill when
they think of her; of how on that morning she had denied herself
the drink, and had come forth sober, with the grandchildren washed
and combed, to do honour to their departure.

When they had all passed by, Beggar Lina also began to weep.

"Those people are going to Heaven to meet Jesus," she told the
children. "All those people are going to Heaven but we are left
standing by the wayside."

***

When the procession of carts and wagons had driven halfway through
the parish, it came to the long floating bridge that lies rocking
on the river.

This is a difficult bridge to cross. The first part of it is a
steep incline all the way down to the edge of the stream; then come
two rather abrupt elevations, under which boats and timber rafts
can pass; and at the other end the up grade is so heavy that both
man and beast dread to climb it.

That bridge has always been a source of annoyance. The planks keep
rotting, and have to be replaced continually. In the spring, when
the ice breaks, it has to be watched day and night to prevent its
being knocked to pieces by drifting ice floes; and when the spring
rains cause a rise in the river, large portions of the bridge are
washed away.

But the people of the parish are proud of their bridge, and glad to
have it, rickety as it is. But for that blessed bridge they would
have to use a rowboat or a ferry every time they wanted to cross
from one side of the parish to the other.

The bridge groaned and swayed as the Jerusalem-farers passed over
it, and the water came up through the cracks in the planks and
splashed the horses' legs.