tion has no age, and I understood then
as well as I ever could, what heroism
and devotion and self-forgetfulness
mean. I understood, too, the meaning
of the words "our country," and my
heart warmed to it, as in the older times
the hearts of boys and girls warmed
to the name of their king. The new
knowledge was so beautiful that I
thought then, and I think now, that
nothing could have served as so fit an
accompaniment to it as the shouting of
those pines. They sang like heroes,
and in their swaying gave me fleeting
glimpses of the stars, unbelievably
brilliant in the dusky purple sky, and
half-obscured now and then by drifting
clouds.

By and by we lay down, not far apart,
each rolled in an army blanket, frayed
with service. Our feet were to the fire
-- for it was so that soldiers lay, my fa-
ther said -- and our heads rested on
mounds of pine-needles.

Sometimes in the night I felt my fa-
ther's hand resting lightly on my shoul-
ders to see that I was covered, but in
my dreams he ceased to be my father