IN QUEST OF RAVENS 43 



This digression, though suggested by the 

 recollection of my serious-faced clergyman, 

 is not to be taken as reflecting in any wise 

 upon him or upon his calling. He was try- 

 ing to do his duty, I have no question. If 

 he felt obliged to have a pulpit and a uni- 

 form of his own, it was not that he differed 

 from other people, but that other people dif- 

 fered from him. May his work prosper, and 

 his days be long! He was traveling in a 

 buggy, as I have said. Had he been on foot, 

 no doubt he might have been readier to stop 

 a minute to chat with an inquisitive stranger, 

 as ready, perhaps, as a more venerable 

 pilgrim who happened along a few minutes 

 later, and who not only stopped, but sat 

 down, and, so to speak, paid me a visit : a 

 little man, bent with his seventy-three years 

 (he told me his age almost at once), who 

 had come ten miles on foot that morning. 

 In one hand he carried a live turkey, with 

 its legs tied, of course, and in the other a 

 chicken. Poor things, they were making 

 their last journey. It was a " very hot day," 

 the old man thought. His cotton shirt was 

 flung wide open for coolness, and as he 

 mopped his face, having put down his bur- 



