Thus was it with Mary Pratt, and thus was it with her uncle, the deacon. One of the plainest problems in natural philosophy was Hebrew to both, simply because the capacity that Providence had so freely bestowed on each had never been turned to the consideration of such useful studies. But, while the mind of Mary Pratt was thus obscured on this simple, and, to such as choose to give it an hour of reflection, perfectly intelligible proposition, it was radiant as the day on another mystery, and one that has confounded thousands of the learned, as well as of the unlearned. To her intellect, nothing was clearer, no moral truth more vivid, no physical fact more certain, than the incarnation of the Son of God. She had the "evidence of things not seen," in the fulness of Divine grace; and was profound on this, the greatest concern of human life, while unable even to comprehend how the "inclination of the earth's axis to the plane of its orbit" could be the cause of the change of the seasons. And was it thus with her uncle?--he who was a pillar of the "meeting," whose name was often in men's mouths as a "shining light," and who had got to be identified with religion in his own neighbourhood, to a degree that caused most persons to think of Deacon Pratt, when they should be thinking of the Saviour? We are afraid he knew as little of one of these propositions as of the other. "It's very extr'or'nary," resumed the deacon, after ruminating on the matter for a few moments, "but I suppose it _is_ so. Wasn't it for this 'inclination' to cold weather our vessels might go and seal under as pleasant skies as we have here in June. But, Mary, I suppose that wasn't to be, or it would be." "There would have been no seals, most likely, uncle, if there was no ice. They tell me that such creatures love the cold and the ice, and the frozen oceans. Too much warm weather would not suit them." "But, Mary, it might suit other folks! Gar'ner's whole ar'nd isn't among the ice, or a'ter them seals." "I do not know that I understand you, sir. Surely Roswell has gone on a sealing voyage." "Sartain; there's no mistake about _that_. But there may be many stopping-places in so long a road." "Do you mean, sir, that he is to use any of these stopping-places, as you call them?" asked Mary, eagerly, half-breathless with her anxiety to hear all. "You said something about the West Indies once." "Harkee, Mary--just look out into the entry and see if the kitchen door is shut. And now come nearer to me, child, so that there may be no need of bawling what I've got to say all over Oyster Pond. There, sit down, my dear, and don't look so eager, as if you wanted to eat me, or my mind may misgive me, and then I couldn't tell you, a'ter all. Perhaps it would be best, if I was to keep my own secret."