folks in Washington that we send babies about in the mail-bags hyar in
the mountings."

The social acquaintance of the little man had necessarily been rather
limited, but one day a neighbor, attracted to the Petrie cabin by idle
curiosity concerning the waif robbed from the mails, gazed upon him for
one astonished instant and then proclaimed his identity.

"Nare Gilhooley should ever cross Storm Mounting, 'cordin ter yer saying
Petey, an' hyar ye hev been totin' Boss Gilhooley 's gran'son back an'
forth across Old Stormy, an' all yer spare time ye spend on yer hands
an' knees bar kin' like a dog jes' ter pleasure him."

Peter Petrie changed countenance suddenly. His square, bristly, grim jaw
hardened and stiffened, so dear to him were all his stubborn convictions
and grizzly, ancient feuds. But he bestirred himself to cause
information to be conveyed to Bruce Gilhooley of his son's whereabouts
for he readily suspected that the family had fled to Minervy Sue's in
Georgia. Peter Petrie sustained in this act of conscience a grievous
wrench, for it foreshadowed parting with the choice missive filched from
the mail-bag, but he was not unmindful of the anguish and bereavement
of the mother, and somehow the thought was peculiarly coercive at this
season.

"I don't want ter even up with King Herod, now, sure!" he averred to
himself one night as he sat late over the embers, reviewing his plans
all made. He thought much in these lone hours as He heard the wind speed
past, the trees crack under their weight of snow, and noted through the
tiny window the glister of a great star of a supernal lustre, high above
the pines, what a freight of joy the tidings of this child would bear to
the bleeding hearts of his kindred. Albeit so humble, the parallel must
needs arise suggesting the everlasting joy the existence of another
Child had brought to the souls of all kindreds, all peoples. "Peace,
peace," he reiterated, as the red coals crumbled and the gray ash
spread; "Peace an' good-will!"

The words seemed to epitomize all religion, all value, all hope' and
somehow they so dwelt in his mind that the next day he was moved to add
a personal message to old Boss Gilhooley in sending the more important
information to Bruce.

"Let on ter Boss," he charged the envoy, "ez--ez--that thar jedgmint
an' execution issued war jes' formal--ye mought say--jes' ter hev all
the papers reg'lar."

By virtue of more attrition with the world the mail-r