ng
in the old kitchen: huge rounds of beef, quarters of lamb, pease, and
sweet puddings and pies. Then came the dancing in the barn, lighted by
candles in cloven sticks, and lanterns of turnips that were scooped out
hollow.

But at the vicarage Paul and Greta sat alone in silence and with clasped
hands. Parson Christian came in and out at intervals, gossiping cheerily
of the odds and ends of daily life, as if its even tenor had never been
disturbed. They supped together, and sat on till midnight; and then the
old Christian took down his green tome and wrote:

"June 30.--So Paul being to return home after his long absence, I
spent the forenoon on the fell shearing, and earned a stone of wool
and a windle of rye. In the afternoon I set forward toward Keswick,
wherefor Randal Alston had loaned me his mare and gig. At the Flying
Horse I lighted not, but stood while I drank a pot of ale with John
Proudfoot and Richard Parkinson and a neighbor that comes to-morrow
to thatch the low barn for me. Then direct to Keswick, where there
was a great concourse, and a hearty welcome, and much rejoicings
that warmed me and came nigh to break me withal. Got son Paul at
last, and would have driven direct home, but the good folk were not
minded that it should be so, and naught would do but that they must
loose the mare and run in the shafts. So we reached home about six,
and found all well, and my love Greta, after long waiting in her
closet, very busy with Paul, who had run in ahead of me. So I went
out again and foddered and watered the mare, for Peter is sometimes a
sad fatch and will not always give a horse what is worth its trouble
in the eating. And being thrang this evening a-mending the heels of
my old clock boots with lath nails, whereof I bought a pennyworth at
Thomas Seed's shop in the market-place, I saw little of Paul, but
left him to Greta. Then supped, and read a psalm and prayed in my
family, and sat till full midnight. So I retire to my lodging-room,
at peace with all the world, and commend my all to God. The Lord
forgive the sins of me and mine that we have committed in these our
days of trial. Blessed be God who has wrought our victory, and
overcome our enemies and brought us out more than conquerors.

Amen."

Parson Christian had put down the pen, and was sprinkling the writing
with sand from a pepper-castor, when Brother Peter came in wit