The leaves were all
gone, and the long lines of white frame houses that were hid away in the
thick trees during the summer, showed themselves standing in straight
rows now that the trees were bare. And Purser, Pond & Co.'s great factory
on the brook in the valley below was plainly to be seen, with its long
rows of windows shining and shimmering in the brilliant sun, and its
brick chimney reached up like the Tower of Babel, and poured out a steady
stream of dense, black smoke.
It was just such a shining winter morning. Mr. Blake and his
walking-stick were just starting out for a walk together. "It's a fine
morning," thought the minister, as he shut the parsonage gate. And when
he struck the cane sharply on the stones it answered him cheerily: "It's
a fine morning!" The cane always agreed with Mr. Blake. So they were able
to walk together, according to Scripture, because they were agreed.
Just as he came round the corner the minister found a party of boys
waiting for him. They had already heard the cane remarking that it was a
fine morning before Mr. Blake came in sight.
"Good-morning! Mr. Blake," said the three boys.
"Good-morning, my boys; I'm glad to see you," said the minister, and he
clapped "Old Ebony" down on the sidewalk, and it said "I am glad to see
you.
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