sh, child, do not be silly," replied the convicted culprit. For it
was easier than he would care to admit to mingle visions of beauty with
those of holiness.

"I am not silly. Thee would not dare say thee was not thinking of her.
She thinks of thee."

"How does thee know?"

"Because she gives me bread and jam if I so much as mention thy name."

This did not offend the young plowman, to judge by the expression of his
face; but he said nothing, and, stooping down, loosened the chains of
the whiffletree and turned the faces of the tired horses homeward. The
cavalcade moved on in silence for a few moments, but nothing can repress
the chatter of a boy, and presently he began again.

"Uncle Dave, was it really up this very valley that Mad Anthony Wayne
marched with his brave soldiers?"

"This very valley."

"I wish I could have been with him."

"It is an evil wish. Thee is a child of peace. Thy father and thy
father's fathers have denied the right of men to war. Thee ought to be
like them, and love the things that make for peace."

"Well, if I can not wish for war, I will wish that a runaway slave would
dash up this valley with a pack of bloodhounds at his heels. Oh, Uncle
Dave, tell me that story about thy hiding a negro in the haystack, and
choking the bloodhounds with thine own hands."

"I have told thee a hundred times."

"But I want to hear it again."

"Use thy memory and thy imagination."

"Oh, no, please tell me. I like to hear some one tell something."

"Thee does? Then listen to the whip-poor-will, the cricket or the
brook."

"I hear them, but I do not know what they say. Tell me."

"Tell thee! No one can tell thee, child, if thee can not understand for
thyself. The message differs for the hearers, and the difference is in
the ear and not the sound."

They both paused for a moment, and listened to those soothing lullabies
with which nature sings the world to sleep. So powerful was the tide
that floated the mystic out on the ocean of dreams, he would have
drifted away again if the child had not suddenly recalled him.

"I can not make out what they say," he cried, "and anyhow there is no
time to try. Come, let us go. Everybody is waiting for us."

"Thee is right," answered his uncle. "Go and let down the bars and we
will hurry home."

The child, bounding forward, did as he was told, and the tired
procession entered the barnyard. The plowman fed his horses, and stopped
to listen for a moment to