An hour later the doctor drove up, stopped, and walked toward the
kitchen door. As he passed the window, he looked in.

Eph was lying on his face, upon the settle, as he had first seen him
there, his arms beneath his head.

"I will not disturb him now," said the doctor.

* * * * *

One breezy afternoon, in the following summer, Captain Seth laid aside
his easy every-day clothes, and transformed himself into a stiff
broadcloth image, with a small silk hat and creaking boots. So attired,
he set out in a high open buggy, with his wife, also in black, but with
gold spectacles, to the funeral of an aunt. As they pursued their
jog-trot journey along the Salt Hay Road, and came to Ephraim Morse's
cottage, they saw Susan sitting in a shady little porch, at the front
door, shelling peas, and looking down the bay.

"How is everything, Susan?" called out Captain Seth; "'bout time for Eph
to be gitt'n' in?"

"Yes," she answered, nodding and smiling, and pointing with a pea-pod;
"that's our boat, just coming up to the wharf, with her peak down."




THE DENVER EXPRESS.