and a good deal more irritating.

And now I marked again the power of that maiden's gentle hand. I did
not notice her movement to her father's side. She was there when I
first observed her, with one hand laid upon his temple, and lightly
smoothing the hair with a caressing motion. Gradually the high tone
of then disputant subsided, and his words had in them less of
personal rancour. Still, the discussion went on; and I noticed that
the maiden's hand, which rested on the temple when unimpassioned
words were spoken, resumed its caressing motion the instant there
was the smallest perceptible tone of anger in the father's voice. It
was a beautiful sight; and I could but look on and wonder at the
power of that touch, so light and unobtrusive, yet possessing a
spell over the hearts of all around her. As she stood there, she
looked like an angel of peace, sent to still the turbulent waters of
human passion. Sadly out of place, I could not but think her, amid
the rough and rude; and yet, who more than they need the softening
and humanizing influences of one like the Gentle Hand.

Many times more, during that evening, did I observe the magic power
of her hand and voice--the one gentle yet potent as the other.

On the next morning, breakfast being over, I was preparing to take
my departure, when my host informed me that if I would wait for half
an hour he would give me a ride in his wagon to G----, as business
required him to go there. I was very well pleased to accept of the
invitation. In due time, the farmer's wagon was driven into the road
before the house, and I was invited to get in. I noticed the horse
as a rough-looking Canadian pony, with a certain air of stubborn
endurance. As the farmer took his seat by my side, the family came