"_I_ don't see um," said Katie, stretching her neck and looking in vain
for a church.

"'The groves were God's first temples,'" repeated Mr. Parlin,
reverently. "These trees have no undergrowth of shrubs, like our New
England trees."

"But, O, look! look, papa! What is that long green _dangle_, dripping
down from up high? No, swinging up from down low?'

"Yes, what is um, Uncle Eddard?"

"That is a mistletoe-vine embracing a hickory tree. It is called a
'tree-thief,' because it steals its food from the tree it grows upon."

"Why, papa, I shouldn't think 'twas a thief, for the tree knows it. A
thief comes in the night, when there doesn't anybody know it. _I_ should
think 'twas a _beggar_."

"_I_ fink so too," said Flyaway, straining her eyes to look at she knew
not what. "I fink um ought to ask _pease_."

"All this tract of country where we are riding now," said Mrs. Clifford,
"was overflowed last spring by the river. It is called 'bottom land,'
and is extremely rich."

"I never thought the Hoojers had a very clean, blue, pretty river," said
Dotty, thoughtfully; "it looks some like a mud-puddle. Perhaps it
carried off too much of this dirt."