THE SILVER LAKE stortes. 101

preached for half an hour to my father .
about building a fence on Sunday, and
he was out working himself half the
day yesterday, with his snow shovel.
I suppose he thought no one saw him,
but we watched him. He’s no better »
than other folks, for all his talk !”

No sooner were the words out of
Peter’s mouth, than he lay sprawling
on the snow, and the blood which
poured from his nose was reddening its
pure surface. After a few moments, he
departed in great wrath for his home.
Darkness came on, and the hill was
deserted. |

That evening, after tea, Mr. Play-