than in an inhabitant of Jupiter or the fixed stars." The Elder, who had listened silently thus far, not without an occasional and apparently involuntary manifestation of dissent, here interposed. "Pardon me, my dear friend," said he; "but I must needs say that I look upon speculations of this kind, however ingenious or plausible, as unprofitable, and well-nigh presumptuous. For myself, I only know that I am a weak, sinful man, accountable to and cared for by a just and merciful God. What He has in reserve for me hereafter I know not, nor have I any warrant to pry into His secrets. I do not know what it is to pass from one life to another; but I humbly hope that, when I am sinking in the dark waters, I may hear His voice of compassion and encouragement, 'It is I; be not afraid.'" "Amen," said the Skipper, solemnly. "I dare say the Parson is right, in the main," said the Doctor. "Poor creatures at the best, it is safer for us to trust, like children, in the goodness of our Heavenly Father than to speculate too curiously in respect to the things of a future life; and, notwithstanding all I have said, I quite agree with good old Bishop Hall: 'It is enough for me to rest in the hope that I shall one day see them; in the mean time, let me be learnedly ignorant and incuriously devout, silently blessing the power and wisdom of my infinite Creator, who knows how to honor himself by all those unrevealed and glorious subordinations.'" CHAPTER VI. THE SKIPPER'S STORY. "WELL, what's the news below?" asked the Doctor of his housekeeper, as she came home from a gossiping visit to the landing one afternoon. "What new piece of scandal is afloat now?" "Nothing, except what concerns yourself," answered Widow Matson, tartly. "Mrs. Nugeon says that you've been to see her neighbor Wait's girl--she that 's sick with the measles--half a dozen times, and never so much as left a spoonful of medicine; and she should like to know what a doctor's good for without physic. Besides, she says Lieutenant Brown would have got well if you'd minded her, and let him have plenty of thoroughwort tea, and put a split fowl at the pit of his stomach." "A split stick on her own tongue would be better," said the Doctor, with a wicked grimace. "The Jezebel! Let her look out for herself the next time she gets the rheumatism; I'll blister her from head to heel. But what else is going?" "The schooner Polly Pike is at the landing." "What, from Labrador? The one Tom Osborne went in?" "I suppose so; I met Tom down street." "Good!" said the Doctor, with emphasis. "Poor Widow Osborne's prayers are answered, and she will see her son before she dies." "And precious little good will it do her," said the housekeeper. "There's not a more drunken, swearing rakeshame in town than Tom Osborne." "It's too true," responded the Doctor. "But he's her only son; and you know, Mrs. Matson, the heart of a mother."