came, the children, going down to the foot, rolled
over each other in the grass, with loud shouts. At last only two were
left to dispute the letters in asparagus, elephant, constancy, and
philosophical. Then Mr. Jeminy gathered the children about him.

"The year is over," he said, "and you are free to play again. But do
not forget over the summer what you learned with so much difficulty
during the winter. Let me say to you who will not return to school: I
have taught you to read, to write, to add and subtract; you know a
little history, a little geography. Do not be proud of that. There
are many things to learn; but you would not be any happier for having
learned them.

"You will ask me what this has to do with you. I would like to teach
you to be happy. For happiness is not in owning much, but in owning
little: love, and liberty, the work of one's hands, fellowship, and
peace. These things have no value; they are not to be bought; but they
alone are worth having. Do not envy the rich man, for cares destroy
his sleep. And do not ask the poor man not to sing, for song is all he
has.

"Love poverty, and labor, the poverty of love, the wealth of the heart.

"Be wise and honest farmers.

"School is over. You may go."

The children ran away, laughing; the boys hurried off together to the
swimming hole, their casual shouts stealing after them down the road.
Mr. Jeminy, lying on his back in the grass, listened to them sadly. As
the voices grew fainter and fainter, it seemed to him as if they were
saying: "School is over, school is over." And he thought: "They are
counting the seasons. But to the old, the year is never done."

Mr. Frye, who had been sitting quietly by the road during Mr. Jeminy's
little speech to the children, now got up, and went back to the
village, shaking his head solemnly with every step.

III

THE BARLYS

The two hired men on Barly's farm rose in the dark and crept
downstairs. By sun-up, Farmer Barly was after them, in his brown
overalls; he came clumping into the barn, dusty with last year's hay,
and peered about him in the yellow light. He opened the harness room,
and took out harness for the farm wagons; he went to ask if the horses
had been watered.

The cows were in pasture; in the wagon shed the two men, before a tin
basin, plunged their arms into water, flung it on their faces, and
puffed and sighed. The shed was cold, and redolent of earth. Outside,
the odor