“He must know better,” asserted a fern. “No one could possibly believe such a thing.”
“I don’t know whether he is blind, but I think not,” said Bachelor. “They say he has made a great many other people believe as he does because he talks so beautifully.”
“How dreadful!” said the flowers, in a sad voice.
“They had a man at Chautauqua who answered all he said and proved that it was untrue, but every one did not hear him. I think we ought to have a day to answer Ingersoll,” again said Bachelor.
“Yes, we must,” said the north wind; “and we will all prove there is a God. No one could have made me but God.” And he blew and blew until the flowers crouched down almost afraid at his fierceness.
When all was quiet again, out hopped a dignified-looking bird. “My friends,” said he, “my wife and I went to church last night, and they sang a beautiful hymn that has long been one of my favorites. I told my wife to listen hard, and this morning, with my help, she was able to sing it. I think it would help on this subject if we were to sing it for you now.”
“Sing, sing, sing,” said the brook.
“I THINK IT WOULD HELP ON THIS SUBJECT.”