conclusion the slab possessed weird properties, making it
a restless and unsatisfactory couch, and thereafter I called it the
dream bench.

DOCTOR BROWN OF DANVILLE.

Incidentally I took up stenography, its usefulness having been impressed
upon me by my inability to transcribe the narrative of the feeble-minded
black boy.

The winter following his death, attending law school at the University
of Virginia, I continued its study and practice and found it quite an
aid in jotting down the lectures. By the following summer I had grown to
be quite an efficient stenographer.

That summer, shortly after I had my disturbing dream as a priest of
Osiris, the Kentucky synod of the Southern Presbyterian Church met at
Winchester. My mother, a member of the First Presbyterian Church,
entertained two of the visiting preachers, both of whom were personal
friends of Doctor Chisholm. One was from the western portion of the
State, I believe Owensboro, the other, Doctor Brown, of Danville.

Doctor Brown rarely smiled; his poise was indicative of the utmost
self-control, his form lank, his hair heavy and graying at the temples,
his general appearance giving evidence of a clean, active ascetic life
and a strong moral and physical make-up. He was inclined to keep the
light of his conversational powers under a bushel, and at times spoke
only when aroused from apparent self-centered thought. His voice was
deep and pleasant, his diction and expression perfect, his thoughts,
clothed in finished sentences, were entertainingly expressed and at
times exhibited a rich vein of the choicest humor. He was the leading
member of the conference--certainly the brainiest--and it fell to his
lot to deliver the most important address of the gathering.

He seemed to fancy the old springhouse, its quiet coolness and the
spreading elms. Except at mealtime he did all his drinking from its cool
fountain and out of the old gourd dipper, though mother insisted on
sending a glass down for his service.

Several times I found him sitting in the rustic chair by the door
jotting down notes for some address or sermon, but never seated on the
old stone bench.

On Monday at breakfast, following a busy Sunday, on which he had
preached two exceptionally good sermons, and, following the noonday
service, greeted lengthily and cordially seemingly every member of the
large congregation, I noticed his usually active manner had given place
to a languorous calm.