Then an inspiration surged through me. Why not slip the umbrella through the handle of one bag, as Pat carries his shillalah and bundle of duds, and grab the other in my free hand! Our carriage couldn't be far off. The exercise would keep my blood active and my feet from freezing, and as to the road, was there not the fence, its top rail making rabbit jumps above the drifts? So I trudged on, stumbling into holes, flopping into treacherous ruts, halting in the steeper places to catch my breath, till I reached the top of the hill. There I halted--stopped short, in fact: the fence had given out! In its place was a treacherous line of bushes that faded into a delusive clump of trees. Beyond, and on both sides, stretched a great white silence--still as death. Another council of war. I could retrace my steps, smash in the windows of the station, and camp for the night, taking my chances of stopping some east-bound train as it whizzed past, with a match and my necktie--or I could stumble on, perhaps in a circle, and be found in the morning by the early milk. On! On once more--maybe the clump of trees hid something--maybe-- Here a light flashed--a mere speck of a light--not to the right, where lay the clump of trees--but to my left; then a faint wave of warm color rose from a chimney and curled over a low roof buried in snow. Again the light flashed--this time through a window with four panes of glass--each one a beacon to a storm-tossed mariner! On once more--into a low hollow--up a steep slope--slipping, falling, shoving the hand-gripped bag ahead of me to help my footing, until I reached a snow-choked porch and a closed door. Here I knocked. For some seconds there was no sound; then came a heavy tread, and a man in overalls threw wide the door. “Well, what do you want at this time of night?” (Time of night, and it but seven-thirty!) “I'm the lecturer,” I panted. “Oh, come! Ain't they sent for ye? Here, I'll take 'em. Walk in and welcome. You look beat out. Well--well--wife and I was won-derin' why nothin' driv past for the six-ten. We knowed you was comin'. Then agin, the station master's sick, and I 'spose ye couldn't warm up none. And they ain't sent for ye? And they let ye tramp all--Well--well!” I did not answer. I hadn't breath enough left for sustained conversation; moreover, there was a red-hot stove ahead of me, and a rocking-chair,--comforts I had never expected to see again--and there was a pine table--oh, a lovely pine table, with a most exquisite white oil-cloth cover, holding the most beautiful kerosene lamp with a piece of glorious red flannel floating in its amber fluid; and in the corner--a wife--a sweet-faced, angelic-looking young wife, with a baby in her arms too beautiful for words--must have been! I dropped into the chair, spread my fingers to the stove and looked around--warmth--rest-peace--comfort--companionship--all in a minute!