were answered by anyone volunteering to do so. Everyone who had in
any way caught a new light on a passage of scripture endeavored, by
questioning, to find out as to whether others were as wise as he, and
if such was not the case, he gladly enlightened the rest.

The Sunday school being over, the people stood in groups on the ground
surrounding the church waiting for the arrival of the parson from his
home, Berryville, a town twelve miles distant. He was pastor of three
other churches besides the one at Winchester, and he preached at each
one Sunday in the month. After awhile he put in his appearance. He was
rather small in stature, and held his head somewhat to one side and
looked at you with that knowing look of the parrot. He wore a pair of
trousers that had been black, but were now sleet from much wear. They
lacked two inches of reaching down to the feet of his high-heeled
boots. He had on a long linen cluster that reached below his knees.
Beneath this was a faded Prince Albert coat and a vest much too small.
On his head there sat, slightly tipped, a high-topped beaver that
seemed to have been hidden between two mattresses all the week and
taken out and straightened for Sunday wear. In his hand he held a
walking cane.

Thus clad he came toward the church, his body thrown slightly back,
walking leisurely with the air of quiet dignity possessed by the man
sure of his standing, and not under the necessity of asserting it
overmuch in his carriage.

The brothers pulled off their hats and the sisters put on their best
smiles as the parson approached. After a cordial handshake all around,
the preacher entered the church to begin the services. After singing
a hymn and praying, he took for his text the following "passige of