He had dropped his daughter's hand, and now held out each of his
to the little fellows. Phillis and I followed, and listened to
the prattle which the minister's companions now poured out to
him, and which he was evidently enjoying. At a certain point,
there was a sudden burst of the tawny, ruddy-evening landscape.
The minister turned round and quoted a line or two of Latin.

'It's wonderful,' said he, 'how exactly Virgil has hit the
enduring epithets, nearly two thousand years ago, and in Italy;
and yet how it describes to a T what is now lying before us in
the parish of Heathbridge, county----, England.'

'I dare say it does,' said I, all aglow with shame, for I had
forgotten the little Latin I ever knew.

The minister shifted his eyes to Phillis's face; it mutely gave
him back the sympathetic appreciation that I, in my ignorance,
could not bestow.

'Oh! this is worse than the catechism,' thought I; 'that was only
remembering words.'

'Phillis, lass, thou must go home with these lads, and tell their
mother all about the race and the milk. Mammy must always know
the truth,' now speaking to the children. 'And tell her, too,
from me that I have got the best birch rod in the parish; and
that if she ever thinks her children want a flogging she must
bring them to me, and, if I think they deserve it, I'll give it
them better than she can.' So Phillis led the children towards