"I hope so, Martin; I hope so. It's a big thing you're doing for that
boy. I hope he'll never forget it."

"Not him! Bless me, it was a bigger thing he did for me. When he gets
to be an M.D. I'll go back to Ontario and get little Annie Laurie, and
we'll run Symonds into the river, and set up housekeeping on his
tombstone. Well, so-long, John. We're goin' to have a bully day for
your honeymoonin' to-morrow. Tell Mary to put up a clothes-basket o'
them lemon pies, 'cause I'll be holler 'way down past my boot-soles.
Good-night, John."

He started off noisily, but turned to shout back through a cloud of
dust: "Mind you don't let that snake come any o' his monkey-shines over
you, John! Good-night!"

The wagon rattled away down the lilac road, the driver's voice rising
gaily, if jerkily, above its clatter:

"_O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o! They broke the jam on the Gar-ry Rocks,
And met a wat-e-ry grave!_"

The other man was still smiling as he turned and made his way along the
edge of the wood. Good old Martin! Where was there another such a
friend as he? When John McIntyre's spirit rose in thankfulness to his
Maker for the many temporal blessings lavished upon him, he never
forgot to say, "And I thank thee, Lord, most of all, for Martin
Heaslip!"

The fiery ball had sunk beyond the rim of the sea; the earth was still
darkly radiant, pulsating with the thought of his departed glory. The
great rose on the eastern horizon was fading to a tender mauve. The
wooded glen was dark and silent. From its warm depths arose the
perfume of the young, green earth. John McIntyre stood for a moment on
the pathway, where its shadows met the lights of the open fields. He
threw back his head and looked up into the quivering deep of the
heavens. Involuntarily his eyes closed against their glory. He was
overcome, too, with the glory of a sudden devout thought. God, away up
there, encompassed by ineffable light and beauty, was like His own
abiding place--too blindingly radiant to be gazed at by mortal eye, and
therefore inscrutable and mysterious, but all-bountiful, nevertheless,
sending down each day His largess of blessings, just as the heavens
sent down their life-giving rains. At the thought John McIntyre took
off his hat.

And as he stood, out of the hush of the woods there stole the last
wondrous miracle of the departing day. The spirit of the twilight took
voice, a marvelous voice, indescribably sweet. Away in t