And she would smile up at ’em and seem to enjoy their company first rate before she could talk even, and when she begun to talk she would talk to ’em.
And I used to wonder if there wuz angels encamped round about her and neighborin’ with her; and I thought to myself I shouldn’t wonder a mite if there wuz.
Why, when she wuzn’t more than several months old she would jest lay in her little crib, with her short golden hair makin’ a sort of a halo round her white forwerd, and them wonderful heavenly eyes of hern lookin’ up, up—fur off—fur off—and a smilin’ at somebody or other, and a reachin’ out her little hands to somebody, a wavin’ ’em a greetin’ or a good-bye.
Curius! Who it wuz I’d gin a dollar bill any time, and more too, to have ketched a glimpse of the Form she see, and hearn the whispers or the music that fell on her ears, too fine and pure for our more earthly senses.
And most probable I never wuz any madder in my hull life than I wuz when old Dr. Cork, who wuz doctorin’ her Ma at that time, told me “It wuz wind.”
Wind! That is jest as much as he knew. But he wuz an old man, and I never laid it up aginst him, and I never said a word back, only jest this little triflin’ remark. I sez, sez I:
“The divine breath of Eden blowin’ down into pure souls below, inspirin’ ’em and makin’ ’em talk with tongues and see visions and dream dreams, has always been called ‘wind’ in the past, and I spoze it will be in the future, by fools.”
This little remark wuz everything that I said, and for all the world he looked and acted real meachin’, and meached off with his saddle-bags.
But now little Snow’s golden hair wuz a shinin’ out from the piller of sickness, the big prophetic eyes wuz shot up, and the forwerd wuz pale and wan.
But when she heard my voice she opened her eyes and tried to lift up her little snowflake of a hand—a little pretty gesture of greetin’ she always had—and her smile wuz sweet with all the sweetness of the love she had for me.