'Your son,' says he, when he took that bit of a coult out o' my hand,
'will be an honor to you all. I tell you,' says he, 'that he's nearly as
good a scholar, as myself, an' spakes Latin not far behind my own; an'
as for a pracher,' says he, 'I can tell you that he'll be hard farther
nor any man I know.' He tould me them words wid his own two lips. An'
surely, neighbors," said he, relapsing into strong feeling, "you can't
blame me for bein' both proud and happy of sich a son."

My readers, from the knowledge already given them of Denny's character,
are probably disposed to think that his learning was thrown out on this
occasion in longer words and more copious quotations than usual. This,
however, was not the case; so far from that, he never displayed less
pedantry, nor interspersed his conversation with fewer scraps of Latin.
In fact, the proceedings of the day appeared to affect him with a tone
of thought, decidedly at variance with the exuberance of joy experienced
by the family. He was silent, moody, and evidently drawn by some secret
reflection from the scene around him. He held a book in his hand, into
which he looked from time to time, with the air of a man who balances
some contingency in his mind. At length, when the conversation of
those who were assembled became more loud and boisterous, he watched
an opportunity of gliding out unperceived; having accomplished this, he
looked cautiously about him, and finding himself not observed, he turned
his steps to a glen which lay about half a mile below his father's
house.

At the lowest skirt of this little valley, protected, by a few spreading
hawthorns, stood a small white farm-house, more immediately shaded by a
close row of elder or boor-tree, which hung over one of the gables,
and covered the garden gate, together with a neat grassy seat, that
was built between the gate, and the gable. It was impervious to sun