unt Mollie, an' Uncle Matt, an' you all,
they don't never laugh. They just say, 'Pete knows.' But they
couldn't see the flower things, or the tree things neither. Only
HE could see."

The summer passed, and, when the blue gray haze took on the purple
touch and all the woods and hills were dressed with cloth of gold,
Pete went from the world in which he had never really belonged,
nor had been at home. Mr. Howitt, writing to Dr. Coughlan of the
boy's death, said:

"Here and there among men, there are those who pause in the
hurried rush to listen to the call of a life that is more real.
How often have we seen them, David, jostled and ridiculed by their
fellows, pushed aside and forgotten, as incompetent or unworthy.
He who sees and hears too much is cursed for a dreamer, a fanatic,
or a fool, by the mad mob, who, having eyes, see not, ears and
hear not, and refuse to understand.

"We build temples and churches, but will not worship in them; we
hire spiritual advisers, but refuse to heed them; we buy bibles,
but will not read them; believing in God, we do not fear Him;
acknowledging Christ, we neither follow nor obey Him. Only when we
can no longer strive in the battle for earthly honors or material
wealth, do we turn to the unseen but more enduring things of life;
and, with ears deafened by the din of selfish war and cruel
violence, and eyes blinded by the glare of passing pomp and folly,
we strive to hear and see the things we have so long refused to
consider.

"Pete knew a world unseen by us, and we, therefore, fancied
ourselves wiser than he. The wind in the pines, the rustle of the
leaves, the murmur of the brook, the growl of the thunder, and the
voices of the night were all understood and answered by him. The
flowers, the trees, the rocks, the hills, the clouds were to him,
not lifeless things, but living friends, who laughed and wept with
him as he was gay or sorrowful.

"'Poor Pete,' we said. Was he in truth, David, poorer or richer
than we?"

They laid the boy beside his mother under the pines on the hills;
the pines that showed so dark against the sky when the sun was
down behind the ridge. And over his bed the wild vines lovingly
wove a coverlid of softest green, while all his woodland friends
gathered about his couch. Forest and hill and flower and cloud
sang the songs he loved. All day the sunlight laid its wealth in
bars of gold at his feet, and at night the moonlight things and
the shadow things c