Aunt Suse. Now, as they swung along in Indian
file at a swift and easy gait, his joyous spirits bubbled forth anew.
Lifting up his voice he sang with such tremendous volume that every
peak and ridge gave back an individual echo:

"I live for the good of my nation,
And my suns are all growing low,
But I hope that the next generation
Will resemble old Rosin, the beau.

"I've traveled this country all o'er,
And now to the next I will go,
For I know that good quarters await me
To welcome old Rosin, the beau."

"I suppose you don't know how you got that song, either," said Harry.

"No, it just wandered in an' I've picked it up in parts, here an' thar.
See that clump o' laurel 'cross the valley thar, Harry? I killed a
black bear in it once, the biggest seen in these parts in our times,
an' I kin point you at least five spots in which I've killed deer.
You kin trap lots of small game all through here in the winter, an' the
furs bring good prices. Oh, the mountains ain't so bad. Look! See the
smoke over that low ridge, the thin black line ag'in the sky. It comes
from the house o' Samuel Jarvis, Esquire, an' it ain't no bad place,
either, a double log house, with a downstairs an' upstairs, an' a frame
kitchen behin'. It's fine to see it ag'in, ain't it, Ike?"

Ike smiled and nodded.

In another half hour they crossed the low ridge and swung down into a
beautiful little valley, a mile long and a quarter of a mile broad that
opened out before them. The smoke still rose from the house, which they
now saw clearly, standing among its trees. A brook glinting with gold
in the sunshine flowed down the middle of the valley. A luscious
greenness covered the whole valley floor. No snugger nook could be
found in the mountains.

"As fine as pie!" exclaimed Jarvis exultantly. "Everythin's straight
an' right. Ike, I think I see Jane, your mother, standin' in the porch.
I'll just give her a signal."

He lifted up his voice and sang "Home, Sweet Home," with tremendous
volume. He was heard, as Harry saw a sunbonnet waved vigorously on
the porch. The travelers descended rapidly, crossed the brook, and
approached the house. A strong woman of middle years shouted joyously
and came forward to meet them, leaving a little weazened figure crouched
in a chair on the porch.

Mrs. Simmons embraced her brother and son with enthusiasm, and gave a
hearty welcome to Harry, whom Jarvis introduc