to comfort the living.  Yet with all this untiring zeal for the soul’s welfare, there was also a ceaseless care for the body’s welfare, and a divine disregard of any narrow line of faith; for wherever Toby carried Father Orin that good man’s heart was always moved by compassion for any distress of mind, body, or estate, always overflowing with a deep, wide pity infinitely greater and more Christian than any creed.

It is not strange, then, that the good man and the good horse had become almost one in mind and body, and that they were quite one in spirit.  It is not in the least strange, certainly, that Toby came to know the nature of their errand almost as well and nearly as quickly as Father Orin himself.  He easily knew a sick call by the haste with which they set out, and he knew its urgency by their going with the messenger.  He seemed to be able to tell unerringly when they were bearing the Viaticum, and it was plain that he felt the responsibility thus resting upon his speed and sureness of foot.  Then it was that he would go like the wind, through utter darkness, through storm and flood and over an icy earth, without a pause or a misstep.  Many a time, after such a struggle as this, has Toby turned his head, as if trying to see why Father Orin was slow in doing his part when the rain, freezing as it fell, had frozen the priest’s poor overcoat to the saddle, and his ragged leggins were heavy and clumsy with icicles.  But the apologetic tone in which Father Orin always said, “Well, here we are, old man,” and the explanatory pat that he always gave Toby’s neck, after going through the respectful form of hitching him, never failed to make this right.  And when the priest came out of the house, he always had something in his pocket for Toby, if any one had remembered to give himself anything to eat.

But their errands were not all so sad as this.  Sometimes there were weddings to attend, and Toby entered into the happy spirit of that lively business quite as heartily as Father Orin.  The only thing that Toby was strict about then, was that his friend should not forget to wear his best clothes, which he was too apt to do, even if he had not given them away, and that there should not be a speck of mud on his own coat, which had to be neglected in more urgent cases.  Father Orin used to declare that Toby eyed him from top to toe when he knew they were going to a wedding; and that if there were a spot on his cassock, or a hole in it, Toby’s eye never failed to find it.  At such leisurely times he was indeed so exacting as to his own proper appearance that he would not budge until the last “witch’s stirrup” had been combed out of his mane and tail.  He was only a degree less particular when he knew they were going to the christening of an infant.  It was then plainly Toby’s opinion that, while they might not take quite so much time to christen as to marry, there was still no need to rush off with the priest’s vestments out of order and his own fetlocks weighted with mire.  The two had many friendly contests on these occasions, but Toby’s will was the stronger, and his temper was not quite so mild; and as it is always the less amiable who wins, it was commonly he who won, in the long run.