LITMIR.BIZ

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and nailed on the picket so effectually that no sheep could possibly encourage the hope of getting in again. This was all the work of a minute, and he was back again; but so exceedingly out of breath that it was necessary for him to stop a moment and rest himself. Uncle Lot looked ungraciously satisfied.

      "What under the canopy set you to scampering so?" said he; "I could a' driv out them critturs myself."

      "If you are at all particular about driving them out yourself, I can let them in again," said James.

      Uncle Lot looked at him with an odd sort of twinkle in the corner of his eye.

      "'Spose I must ask you to walk in," said he.

      "Much obliged," said James; "but I am in a great hurry." So saying, he started in very business-like fashion towards the gate.

      "You'd better jest stop a minute."

      "Can't stay a minute."

      "I don't see what possesses you to be all the while in sich a hurry; a body would think you had all creation on your shoulders."

      "Just my situation, Uncle Lot," said James, swinging open the gate.

      "Well, at any rate, have a drink of cider, can't ye?" said Uncle Lot, who was now quite engaged to have his own way in the case.

      James found it convenient to accept this invitation, and Uncle Lot was twice as good-natured as if he had staid in the first of the matter.

      Once fairly forced into the premises, James thought fit to forget his long walk and excess of business, especially as about that moment Aunt Sally and Miss Grace returned from an afternoon call. You may be sure that the last thing these respectable ladies looked for was to find Uncle Lot and Master James tête-à-tête, over a pitcher of cider; and when, as they entered, our hero looked up with something of a mischievous air, Miss Grace, in particular, was so puzzled that it took her at least a quarter of an hour to untie her bonnet strings. But James staid, and acted the agreeable to perfection. First, he must needs go down into the garden to look at Uncle Lot's wonderful cabbages, and then he promenaded all around the corn patch, stopping every few moments and looking up with an appearance of great gratification, as if he had never seen such corn in his life; and then he examined Uncle Lot's favorite apple tree with an expression of wonderful interest.

      "I never!" he broke forth, having stationed himself against the fence opposite to it; "what kind of an apple tree is that?"

      "It's a bellflower, or somethin' another," said Uncle Lot.

      "Why, where did you get it? I never saw such apples!" said our hero, with his eyes still fixed on the tree.

      Uncle Lot pulled up a stalk or two of weeds, and threw them over the fence, just to show that he did not care any thing about the matter; and then he came up and stood by James.

      "Nothin' so remarkable, as I know on," said he.

      Just then, Grace came to say that supper was ready. Once seated at table, it was astonishing to see the perfect and smiling assurance with which our hero continued his addresses to Uncle Lot. It sometimes goes a great way towards making people like us to take it for granted that they do already; and upon this principle James proceeded. He talked, laughed, told stories, and joked with the most fearless assurance, occasionally seconding his words by looking Uncle Lot in the face, with a countenance so full of good will as would have melted any snowdrift of prejudices in the world.

      James also had one natural accomplishment, more courtier-like than all the diplomacy in Europe, and that was the gift of feeling a real interest for any body in five minutes; so that, if he began to please in jest, he generally ended in earnest. With great simplicity of mind, he had a natural tact for seeing into others, and watched their motions with the same delight with which a child gazes at the wheels and springs of a watch, to "see what it will do."

      The rough exterior and latent kindness of Uncle Lot were quite a spirit-stirring study; and when tea was over, as he and Grace happened to be standing together in the front door, he broke forth, —

      "I do really like your father, Grace!"

      "Do you?" said Grace.

      "Yes, I do. He has something in him, and I like him all the better for having to fish it out."

      "Well, I hope you will make him like you," said Grace, unconsciously; and then she stopped, and looked a little ashamed.

      James was too well bred to see this, or look as if Grace meant any more than she said – a kind of breeding not always attendant on more fashionable polish – so he only answered, —

      "I think I shall, Grace, though I doubt whether I can get him to own it."

      "He is the kindest man that ever was," said Grace; "and he always acts as if he was ashamed of it."

      James turned a little away, and looked at the bright evening sky, which was glowing like a calm, golden sea; and over it was the silver new moon, with one little star to hold the candle for her. He shook some bright drops off from a rosebush near by, and watched to see them shine as they fell, while Grace stood very quietly waiting for him to speak again.

      "Grace," said he, at last, "I am going to college this fall."

      "So you told me yesterday," said Grace.

      James stooped down over Grace's geranium, and began to busy himself with pulling off all the dead leaves, remarking in the mean while, —

      "And if I do get him to like me, Grace, will you like me too?"

      "I like you now very well," said Grace.

      "Come, Grace, you know what I mean," said James, looking steadfastly at the top of the apple tree.

      "Well, I wish, then, you would understand what I mean, without my saying any more about it," said Grace.

      "O, to be sure I will!" said our hero, looking up with a very intelligent air; and so, as Aunt Sally would say, the matter was settled, with "no words about it."

      Now shall we narrate how our hero, as he saw Uncle Lot approaching the door, had the impudence to take out his flute, and put the parts together, arranging and adjusting the stops with great composure?

      "Uncle Lot," said he, looking up, "this is the best flute that ever I saw."

      "I hate them tooting critturs," said Uncle Lot, snappishly.

      "I declare! I wonder how you can," said James, "for I do think they exceed – "

      So saying, he put the flute to his mouth, and ran up and down a long flourish.

      "There! what do you think of that?" said he, looking in Uncle Lot's face with much delight.

      Uncle Lot turned and marched into the house, but soon faced to the right-about, and came out again, for James was fingering "Yankee Doodle" – that appropriate national air for the descendants of the Puritans.

      Uncle Lot's patriotism began to bestir itself; and now, if it had been any thing, as he said, but "that 'are flute" – as it was, he looked more than once at James's fingers.

      "How under the sun could you learn to do that?" said he.

      "O, it's easy enough," said James, proceeding with another tune; and, having played it through, he stopped a moment to examine the joints of his flute, and in the mean time addressed Uncle Lot: "You can't think how grand this is for pitching tunes – I always pitch the tunes on Sunday with it."

      "Yes; but I don't think it's a right and fit instrument for the Lord's house," said Uncle Lot.

      "Why not? It is only a kind of a long pitchpipe, you see," said James; "and, seeing the old one is broken, and this will answer, I don't see why it is not better than nothing."

      "Why, yes, it may be better than nothing," said Uncle Lot; "but, as I always tell Grace and my wife, it ain't the right kind of instrument, after all; it ain't solemn."

      "Solemn!" said James; "that is according as you work it: see here, now."

      So saying, he struck up Old Hundred, and proceeded through it with great perseverance.

      "There, now!" said he.

      "Well,

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