That hatred and envy may cease,
That each may to each be a brother,
And the earth be an Eden of peace.
In this strain of high philanthropy, Blithe Natty was merrily singing away, when who should darken the smithy door but Black Morris, whom the honest blacksmith had rarely seen since the night when his hasty and wrathful speech anent his daughter, sowed dragons’ teeth, whose painful harvest he had already partly reaped.
“Good mornin’, Nathan Blyth; I reckon you are blamin’ me for that gunpowder business?”
“Yes, I am,” said Nathan, candidly. “Can you look at my scarred face and say you didn’t do it?”
“I did not” said Black Morris, with much emphasis; “I never knew of it till my sister Mary told me. Nathan Blyth, believe me, I not only could not do so beastly a thing, but I could and would fell to the ground the man who did.”
Nathan had kept his eyes on him, “looking him through and through.”
“Morris!” said he, “give me your hand. I believe you didn’t. I am sorry I spoke to you that day as I did. Let bygones be bygones”——