"Yes. He considers Washington's capture his commission."
"And if he should capture him, what then?"
"If he is taken alive he will die the death of a traitor."
"And then?"
"Then the war would be over, the idea of independence would be buried, and we should be English subjects forever."
"And after that comes a cow to be shod. One thing is as likely as the other. The idea of independence will never be buried; we shall never again be subjects of the King o' England. In spite of all the elements can do, in spite of what seems to us impossibilities, the tree God has planted no wind shall hurt. Many a day, Neil, I have steadied my soul and my heart as I went to and fro in my house singing or saying this bit verse, and I wrote it my ain sel':
No wind that blows can ever kill
The tree God plants;
It bloweth east; it bloweth west;
The tender leaves have little rest,
But any wind that blows is best.
The tree God plants
Strikes deeper root, grows higher still,
Spreads wider boughs for God's good will,
Meets all its wants."
Neil sighed, and rising suddenly, said, "Let us go upstairs; the room is growing very cold. And, mother, do not let father know I have told you about his 'bit scrimmage.' It would rob him of the triumph of his own recital."
"I'll not say a word, Neil; you may be sure o' that."
And she did not say a word. Nevertheless, the Elder looked queerly at Neil the following evening, and when he found an opportunity, said, "You've been telling tales on me, lad. Your mother hasna petted me a' the day lang for naething. Some one has whispered a word in her ear. I can see it in her e'en and hear it in her voice, and feel it in the stroke o' her hand. I wonder who it was."