"Pastoral visits!" responded Deacon Tubman, "oh, yes, and they are all
well enough for the old folks, but they ar'n't the kind of biscuit the
young folks like--too heavy in the centre, and over-hard in the crust,
for young teeth, eh, parson?"

"But what shall I do? what shall I do?" reiterated the parson, somewhat
despondently.

"Oh, put on your hat and gloves and warmest coat and come along with me.
We will see what the young folks are doing and will make a day of it.
Come, come; let the old books and catechisms and sermons and tracts have
a respite for once, and we'll spend the day out of doors with the boys
and girls and the people."

"I'll do it!" exclaimed the parson. "Deacon Tubman, you are right. I
keep to my study too closely. I don't see enough of the world and what's
going on in it. I was reading the Testament this morning and I was
impressed with the Master's manner of living and teaching. It is not
certain that he ever preached more than twice in a church during all his
ministry on the earth. And the children! how much he loved the children
and how the little ones loved him! And why shouldn't they love me, too?
Why shouldn't they? I'll make them do it. The lambs of my flock shall
love me." And with these brave words, Parson Whitney bundled himself up
in his warmest garment and followed the deacon down stairs.

[Illustration: "_Tell the folks that you won't be back till night._"]

"Tell the folks that you won't be back till night," called the deacon
from the sleigh, "for this is New Year's and we're going to make a day
of it." And he laughed away as heartily as might be--so heartily,