the boy by the stillness and beauty of the evening world. His senses
were not yet dulled nor his feelings jaded. Through every avenue of his
intelligence the mystery of the universe stole into his sensitive
spirit. If a breeze blew across the meadow he turned his cheek to its
kiss; if the odor of spearmint from the brookside was wafted around him
he breathed it into his nostrils with delight. He saw the shadow of a
crow flying across the field and stopped to look up and listen for the
swish of her wings and her loud, hoarse caw as she made her way to the
nesting grounds; then he gazed beyond her, into the fathomless depths of
the blue sky, and his soul was stirred with an indescribable awe.
Everything filled him with surprise, with wonder and with ecstasy,--the
glowing sky above the western hills, the new pale crescent of the silver
moon, the heavy-laden honey bees eagerly hastening home, the long
shadows lying across his path, the trees with branches swaying in the
evening breeze, the cows with bursting udders lowing at the bars.

But it was not so much the objects themselves as the spirit pervading
them, which stirred the depths of the child's mind. The little pantheist
saw God everywhere. We bestow the gift of language upon a child, but the
feelings which that language serves only to interpret and express exist
and glow within him even if he be dumb. And this gift of language is
often of questionable value, and had been so with him. Things he had
heard said about God often made the boy hate Him. All that he felt,
filled him with love. To him the valley was heaven, and through it
invisibly but unmistakably God walked, morning, noon and evening.

To the child sauntering dreamily and wistfully along, the object dimly
seen from the farm-house door began gradually to dissolve itself into a
group of living beings. Two horses were attached to a plow; one standing
in the lush grass of the meadow, and the other in a deep furrow traced