Dr. Cushing saw his emotion and said, "In behalf of our brother I return thanks to all the friends who have given us their support and sympathy on this occasion. Let us all pray that the peace of God may rest upon this afflicted family." The gathered friends now turned from the grave and dispersed homeward. With the instinct of a true soul-physician, who divines mental states at a glance, Dr. Cushing forbore to address even a word to Zeph Higgins; he left him to the inward ministration of a higher Power. But such tact and reticence belong only to more instructed natures. There are never wanting well-meaning souls who, with the very best intentions, take hold on the sensitive nerves of sorrow with a coarse hand. Deacon Peaslee was inwardly shocked to see that no special attempt had been made to "improve the dispensation" to Zeph's spiritual state, and therefore felt called on to essay his skill. "Well, my friend," he said, coming up to him, "I trust this affliction may be sanctified to you." Zeph glared on him with an impatient movement and turned to walk away; the Deacon, however, followed assiduously by his side, going on with his exhortation. "You know it's no use contendin' with the Lord." "Well, who's ben a contendin' with the Lord?" exclaimed Zeph, "I haint." The tone and manner were not hopeful, but the Deacon persevered. "We must jest let the Lord do what he will with us and ours." "I _hev_ let him--how was I goin' to help it?" "We mustn't murmur," continued the Deacon in a feebler voice, as he saw that his exhortation was not hopefully received. "Who's ben a murmurin? _I_ haint!" "Then you feel resigned, don't you?" "I can't help myself. I've got to make the best on't," said Zeph, trying to out-walk him. "But you know----" "LET ME ALONE, can't ye?" cried Zeph in a voice of thunder; and the Deacon, scared and subdued, dropped behind, murmuring, "Drefful state o' mind! poor critter, so unreconciled!--really awful!" CHAPTER XXVIII. DOLLY AT THE WICKET GATE. The next Sunday rose calm and quiet over the hills of Poganuc. There was something almost preternatural in the sense of stillness and utter repose which the Sabbath day used to bring with it in those early times. The absolute rest from every earthly employment, the withholding even of conversation from temporal things, marked it off from all other days. To the truly devout the effect was something the same as if the time had been spent in heaven.