The Redemption of David Corson | Page 5

a peal from a chime of bells. The child's fear
was needless, for the heart and hands that dealt with him were as gentle
as a woman's. The youth, resembling some old Norse god as he stood
there in the gathering gloom, lowered the child slowly, and printing a
kiss on his cheek, said:
"Thee little pest, thee has no reverence! Thee should never disturb a
child at his play, a bird on his nest nor a man at his prayers."
"But thee was not praying, Uncle Dave," the boy replied. "Thee was
only in another of thy tantrums. The supper has grown cold, the horses
are tired and Shep and I have walked a mile to call thee. Grandmother
said thee had a trance. Tell me what thee has seen in thy visions, Uncle
Dave?"
"God and His angels," said the young mystic softly, falling again into
the mood from which he had been so rudely awakened.
"Angels!" scoffed the young materialist. "If thee was thinking of any
angel at all, I will bet thee it was Dorothy Fraser."
"Tush, 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 their deep-drawn sighs of
contentment, and to the musical grinding of the oats in their teeth. His
imaginative mind read his own thoughts into everything, and he
believed that he could distinguish in these inarticulate sounds the words,
"Good-night. Good-night."
"Good-night," he said, and stroking their great flanks with his kind
hand, left them to their well-earned repose. On his way to the house he
stopped to bathe his face in the waters of a spring brook that ran across
the yard, and then entered the kitchen where supper was spread.
"Thee is late," said the woman who had watched and waited, her fine
face radiant with a smile of love and welcome.
"Forgive me, mother," he replied. "I have had another vision."
"I thought as much. Thee must remember what thee has seen, my son,"
she said, "for all that thee beholds with the outer eye shall pass away,
while what thee sees with the inner eye abides forever. And had thee