"You're the parson from St. Thomas, I judge," said Cheery.

The gentleman bowed, and said he was the pastor of that little church.

"I've heard of your mission work, and I understand you've done a great
deal of good among the mountain whites."

"How many churches have you in these mountains?" interrupted Growler.

"I have but the one church organization, for outside through the
mountains there are no churches--no buildings, no organizations.
People ten and fifteen miles apart can't very well have churches. I
visit the families. I have three on this mountain side. I am well
repaid for all the sacrifice of comfort I make, in knowing how glad
they are to have me come. To many of them I am the connecting link
with the rest of mankind. Ah! the world knows nothing of the
privations and sorrows and ignorance of many of these poor creatures!
Through the winter I am obliged to stop my visitations, but I generally
leave a few books and papers for those who can read, and pictures for
the children."

"Well, parson, I didn't know there was enough goodness in any man in
the United States to make him willing to tramp right into the wildest
part of the Allegheny. Mountains to preach the gospel to half a dozen
poor people!" exclaimed Growler, still more astonished.

"My friend," responded the gentleman earnestly, "the world is full of
Christian men and women who are trying to help others."