doctor had
copied.

* * * * *

"Though, the rushes that will make
Its cradle are by the lake--
Though the linen that will be
Its swathe is on the cotton tree--
Though the woollen that will keep
It warm is on the silly sheep--
Listen, starlight, listen, listen,
Glisten, glisten, glisten, glisten,
And hear my lullaby!
Child, I see thee! Child, I've found thee!
Midst the quiet all around thee!
Child, I see thee! Child, I spy thee!
And thy mother sweet is nigh thee.
Child, I know thee! Child no more,
But a poet ever-more!
See, see, the lyre, the lyre!
In a flame of fire
Upon the little cradle's top
Flaring, flaring, flaring,
Past the eyesight's bearing.
Wake it from its sleep,
And see if it can keep
Its eyes upon the blaze--
Amaze, amaze!
It stares, it stares, it stares,
It dares what none dares!
It lifts its little hand into the flame
Unharmed and on the strings
Paddles a little tune and sings,
With dumb endeavor sweetly--
Bard thou art completely;
Little child,
O' the western wild...."

Ruth looked at Paul with shining eyes. "I thank you again for thinking
that I would like this," she said.

"A little chap whom I saw last night made me feel like making a prophecy
that he would be the first Kentucky astronomer," said Paul, with a
smile. "He was hardly more than a baby, not much over two years old--a
toddling curly-head. Yet there he stood by the roadside, looking up at
the heavens, as solemn as you please. And he said that 'man couldn't
make moons.' I didn't hear him say this, but his brother repeated what
he said."

"Yes, I know. You mean' little Ormsby MacKnight Mitchel. His people live
near here, over on Highland Creek. His father came there from Virginia.
He intended to bore for salt water, meaning to make salt. But he found
more interest in the wild multiflora roses that bloom all around the
Lick, and the bones of unknown animals buried fifty feet beneath the
surface of the earth--though the bones were not found just there--but
farther off at another Lick."

"Then Master Ormsby MacKnight Mitchel is the true son of his father,"
smiled Paul Colbert. "Neither seems commonplace enough to be content
with what everyday people find between heaven and earth."

He said this idly, as we all speak to one another when casting about for
mutual interests before really knowing each other. Thus the talk