Miss Elliot's Girls / Stories of Beasts, Birds, and Butterflies

f workers had assembled on the next Wednesday afternoon. "I suppose he was an awfully good hors

a small country town among the New Hampshire hills: and of all the stories she told in her old age ab

ARSON LORRIMER

ered parish, with farm-houses perched on the hill-sides and nestled in the valleys; and the minister, in doing his work, had trudged over every mile of it a great many times. He made nothing of walking five miles to a meeting on a December evening, with the thermometer below

n elderly widow and her grown-up son to minister to his wants and to keep him company. His study was at the back of the house, and looked out upon the garden and orchard, so that the smell of

essly to his knee, sure of a welcome. The cow lowed after him if he showed himself at the window. The little chicks fluttered to his shoulder when h

Sukey; and the good man would laugh like a school-boy, as the funny little baby-pigs rolled and tumbled over each other for the apples he toss

as he used to be, and that climbing Harrison Hill on a July afternoon and walking five miles in a drizzling rain after a preaching service were not so easy to do as

y approved of this plan, and se

spare-might be turned in for pew-rent;' and Si Olcott didn't care if he traded off his gray mare on the same conditions. Sh

ief absence from home, set every body in the parish talking, by driving into town seated in an open wagon, shin

ead high, stepping proudly and glancing from side to side in a nervous, excited way; but he had a kind eye, and the watching neighbors saw him take an apple from the hand of his new master, after they turned in at the parsonage gate. In answer to all questions

with the mourners, and exchanged greetings with neighbors and friends, he stepped out to the side-yard, where he had fastened his horse, and drove

g line of wagons and chaises, led off by the mourners' coach and the big black hearse, waited the signal to start, while in t

of wagons, the mourners' equipage, and the tall black hearse. There was a cloud of dust, a rattling of wheels, a clatter of hoofs, and Peter and the parson were far down the road. The people gazed after their departing spiritual guide in speechless astonishment. The mourners' heads were thrust far out of the coach windows. Even the sleepy farm-horses pricked up their ears: while old Bill, the sexton's clumsy big-footed beast, which for fifteen years had

conduct, who wondered 'What in time had got into the blamed crittur!' But neither voice nor rein checked Peter's speed. On he flew, down the hill past the post-office, the meeting-house, and the taver

tavern that evening, Peter's e

ke parson think so. He's dead sure to run ag'in. A horse knows when he's got the upper hand, j

ght. A neighbor was called to stand at his head, while his master took down the flaming yellow placard that had caused all the trouble, and slowly and cautiously brought it to him, that he might see, smell, and touch it, talking so

en he told this story, 'I s'pose I should have licked him

ent and kind, but so nervous and timid, and made so frantic by his fear of any unknown object, that he was constan

ptied a measure of oats in it, and opened the stable door; how the horse trotted round and round, drawing each time a little nearer, then came close, snorted and wheeled,-his master standing by encouraging him by hand and voice,-until, unable longer to resis

from the big gate to the stable; but, through the minister's devices, grew so familiar with their appearance, that he took an early opport

er was his friend, that under his guidance no harm came to him, no impossible task was given to him; until at length

h the red light of the fire, and the flames crackled overhead in the barn-loft when the parson led out his favorite, trembling in every limb, his eyes wil

n the green, with seats for the band, the invited guests, and the speaker of the day; while the people gathered from both parishes were standing about in groups waiting for the exercises to commence. Flags were flying, bells ringing, and a field-piece, that had seen service in the Wa

whether it was a waltz the band was playing, or if horses were taught to waltz so long ago; but whatever kind of dance it was,-gallopade, quickstep, or cotillion,-Peter, in his horse-fashion, danced it well. Fa

t that at some time in his life he had been a trained horse in a circus. From the field near by he had recognized the familiar strains that used to call him to his task, and had leaped the fence and made his way to where the crowd was ga

Winterport, Parson Lorrimer had not failed to warn his young people from the pulpit to keep their feet from straying to this place of sinful amusement. But mingled with his ch

, and was about to ship him on board a trading-vessel then lying in the dock, bound to the East Indies. Would he sell, the minister asked, on this side of the water? Yes, if he could get his price. While they talked, Parson Lorrimer caressed the horse, who responded in so friendly a way that the minister, who had lost his heart at first sight to the bea

in'-lesson-must have done it, though, on the sly, or he couldn't have footed it so lively that day over to Centerville. Well, sometimes I think-and then ag'in I don't know. If that there sailor feller stole the horse he sold in such a hurry to parson, why didn't the owner make a hue and cry about it, and follow him up? 'Twould have been easy enough to track the beast to Hilltown. And then ag'in, if 'tw

hey ne

aded to darkness. For the last four years of his life he was totally blind, She remembered how he used to mount the pulpit-stairs, one hand resting upon the shoulder of his colleague

that his head almost touched his master's shoulder-the old white horse was standing; for they had grown old together, and together were enjoying a peaceful and con

weary laid himself down upon his bed, where present

ssing the study-door was startled at seeing in the pale moo

the door was opened he whinnied and turned his head. As the days passed and the step he waited for came no more, hope changed to patient grief. His food often remained unt

anite head-stone that recorded the virtues of 'Ye most faithful Servant and Man of God Silus

ful Memory

h When they t

life-long devotion to his master; and there is a tradition handed down and repeated half-seriously, half in jest, that when Gabriel blows his trumpet