stable with the horse and carriage, came whistling through the yard, and
cutting off weeds or twigs along the path with sharp cuts of his whip.

"Which way is the wind now?" said he, as he approached; "the governor
asleep, Mildred crying, and you scolding, mother?" In a moment, however,
the sight of the ghastly face transfixed the thoughtless youth, as it had
done his mother; and, dropping his whip, he stood silent, awe-struck, in
the presence of the dead.

"Hugh," said Mrs. Kinloch, speaking in a very quiet tone, "go and tell
Squire Clamp to come over here."

In a few minutes the dead body was carried into the house by George, the
Asiatic servant, aided by a villager who happened to pass by. Squire
Clamp, the lawyer of the town, came and had a conference with Mrs. Kinloch
respecting the funeral. Neighbors came to offer sympathy, and aid, if need
should be. Then the house was put in order, and crape hung on the door-
handle. The family were alone with their dead.

On the village green the boys were playing a grand game of "round ball,"
for it was a half-holiday. The clear, silvery tones of the bell were
heard, and we stopped to listen. Was it a fire? No, the ringing was not
vehement enough. A meeting of the church? In a moment we should know. As
the bell ceased, we looked up to the white taper spire to catch the next
sound. One stroke. It was a death, then,--and of a man. We listened for
the age tolled from the belfry. Fifty-five. Who had departed? The sexton
crossed the green on his way to the shop to make the coffin, and informed
us. Our bats and balls had lost their interest for us; we did not even ask
our tally-man, who cut notches for us on a stick, how the game stood. For
Squire Walter Kinloch was the most considerable man in our village of