biblical authority for this, of course nothing more
could be said. But if he could not, then he must get down from the
pulpit, and sit for the rest of his life on a back seat of the church.
This proposition met with the more favor, because even those who were
most indignant had an earnest curiosity to know what the old man would
say for himself.

During all this time of angry discussion, good old Peter was quietly and
calmly cutting and hauling wood on the Little Mountain. His mind was in
a condition of great comfort and peace, for not only had he been able to
rid himself, in his last sermon, of many of the hard thoughts concerning
women that had been gathering themselves together for years, but his
absence from home had given him a holiday from the harassments of Aunt
Rebecca's tongue, so that no new notions of woman's culpability had
risen within him. He had dismissed the subject altogether, and had been
thinking over a sermon regarding baptism, which he thought he could make
convincing to certain of the younger members of his congregation.

He arrived at home very late on Saturday night, and retired to his
simple couch without knowing anything of the terrible storm which had
been gathering through the week, and which was to burst upon him on the
morrow. But the next morning, long before church time, he received
warning enough of what was going to happen. Individuals and deputations
gathered in and about his cabin--some to tell him all that had been said
and done; some to inform him what was expected of him; some to stand
about and look at him; some to scold; some to denounce; but, alas! not
one to encourage; nor one to call him "Brudder Pete," that Sunday
appellation dear to his ears. But the old man possessed a stubborn soul,
not easily to be frightened.

"Wot I says in de pulpit," he remarked, "I'll 'splain in de pulpit, an'
you all ud better git 'long to de chu'ch, an' when de time fur de
sarvice come, I'll be dar."

This advice was not promptly acted upon, but in the course of half an
hour nearly all the villagers and loungers had gone off to the church in
the woods; and when Uncle Peter had put on his high black hat, somewhat
battered, but still sufficiently clerical looking for that congregation,
and had given something of a polish to his cowhide shoes, he betook
himself by the accustomed path to the log building where he had so often
held forth to his people. As soon as he entered the church he was
formall