The standard mode of travel was by horseback, and the circuit-rider, in addition to his other qualifications, needed to be efficient in horsemanship. This was scarcely necessary in Newgent’s case, however. Not being able to own a horse at this time, he secured the loan of one from an accommodating neighbor. The horse was as accommodating as its owner. It was quite well “broke,” having endured the rigors of some nineteen winters, and was experienced in the various departments of farm work. It had sowed and reaped—and eaten—its wild oats, and was absolutely reliable, at least to the limit of its physical endurance. At any rate the horse had many acknowledged good points, as a faithful portrait would have demonstrated. While it may not have been in its real element on dress parade, it served the more practical purpose of locomotion—to a somewhat limited extent. As the rider weighed scarcely a hundred pounds, the horse had no cause to complain at his burden. And when it came to matters of appearance, the odds were not so unevenly balanced as might be supposed. The spare-built, smooth-faced youth, clad in his suit of homespun, which was made with a reckless disregard of the lines and proportions of his anatomy, might well have recalled the lines of Shakespeare: “Would that he were fatter, but I fear him not; Yet if my name were liable to fear, I know of no one whom I would so much avoid.” Thus, mounted upon his trusty steed, armed with all the weapons of spiritual warfare, this modern knight errant of the saddle-bags rode forth valiantly to the scenes of the year’s conflicts and triumphs. En-route to his first appointment, he found an opportunity to do some pastoral work which led to an episode, without mention of which these chronicles would be incomplete. Passing by the home of one of his prominent members, he stopped for a brief call. The house stood on the side of a hill, some distance from the road. A flight of steps led up to the front door. Ascending the steps, he rapped at the door and was kindly admitted by the good housewife. All went merry as a marriage bell and the time of his departure was at hand all too soon. He asked the privilege of bowing with the family in prayer before going, which was freely granted. The weather was warm and it was not thought necessary to close the door, though had it been done in this case, it would have prevented a bit of embarrassment and incidentally spoiled a good story. As all was so congenial within, the pastor anticipated no molestation from without, and so injudiciously knelt with his back to the open door.