112 THE OLD SUGAR MILL. 
considered ; properly understood, it might 
be held to contain, or at least to suggest, 
one of the profoundest, and at the same 
time one of the most practical, truths of all 
devout philosophy; but the testiness of its 
tone was little to my credit. He was a 
good man, — and the village doctor, — and 
more than once afterward put me under 
obligation. One of his best appreciated 
favors was unintended and indirect. I was 
driving with him through the hammock, 
and we passed a bit of swamp. ‘ There 
are some pretty flowers,” he exclaimed; “ I 
think I must get them.” At the word he 
jumped out of the gig, bade me do the same, 
hitched his horse, a half-broken stallion, to 
a sapling, and plunged into the thicket. I 
strolled elsewhere; and by and by he came 
back, a bunch of common blue iris in one 
hand, and his shoes and stockings in the 
other. ‘They are very pretty,” he ex- 
plained (he spoke of the flowers), “and it 
is early for them.” After that I had no 
doubt of his goodness, and in case of need 
would certainly have called him rather than 
his younger rival at the opposite end of the 
village. 
