stopped raining just then, there was a Scotch mist, like a snow-storm
with the chill taken off, and the Chantrey elms dripped hurriedly, and
creaked occasionally in the east-wind.

"There will not be a cap'n on the wharves for a week after this," said
I to Kate; "only think of the cases of rheumatism!"

We stopped for a few minutes at the Carews', who were as much surprised
to see us as if we had been mermaids out of the sea, and begged us to
give ourselves something warm to drink, and to change our boots the
moment we got home. Then we went on to the post-office. Kate went in,
but stopped, as she came out with our letters, to read a written notice
securely fastened to the grocery door by four large carpet-tacks with
wide leathers round their necks.

"Dear," said she, exultantly, "there's going to be a lecture to-night in
the church,--a free lecture on the Elements of True Manhood. Wouldn't
you like to go?" And we went.

We were fifteen minutes later than the time appointed, and were sorry to
find that the audience was almost imperceptible. The dampness had
affected the antiquated lamps so that those on the walls and on the
front of the gallery were the dimmest lights I ever saw, and sent their
feeble rays through a small space the edges of which were clearly
defined. There were two rather more energetic lights on the table near
the pulpit, where the lecturer sat, and as we were in the rear of the
church, we could see the yellow fog between ourselves and him. There
were fourteen persons in the audience, and we were all huddled together
in a cowardly way in the pews nearest the door: three old men, four
women, and four children, besides ourselves and the sexton, a deaf