Just then my mother said to me, "When I hear the beautiful words that
minister speaks and see what he is doing, then indeed do I believe that
human beings have hearts."

As we resumed our journey I wondered if Growler would profit by the
sunshiny example of Cheery and the devotion of the parson of St. Thomas.

Later in our travels we came upon some old acquaintances. Our
stopping-place was near an ancient house on a mountain side. The
outlook was the grandest I had ever seen, and though I have traveled
much since then I have never found anything to exceed it in beauty. A
glistening river wound its way in a big loop at the foot of the
mountain, and beyond it lay stretched out a busy city.

A good many years before a battle had been fought on these heights,
which people still remembered and talked about. I heard them speak of
it as the "Battle above the clouds." There was still a part of a
cannon wagon in the yard which visitors came to see and examined with
much interest. They also often requested the landlady to let them look
at the walls of an old stone dairy adjoining the house, because the
soldiers had carved their names there.

To me it seemed strange that the guests would sit for hours on the long
gallery of this hotel, and go over and over the incidents of the
battle, telling where this regiment stood, or where that officer fell,
as if war and the taking of life were the most pleasant rather than the
most distressful subjects in the world. In the distance was a mammoth
field of graves, miles of graves, beautifully kept mounds under which
lay the dead heroes of that sad time.