Then we went on. We went on to the near woods. I had not findings to-day for the soul of my dear Peter Paul Rubens, but I did tell the wind that was walking in the woods to tell Peter Paul Rubens I was come a-seeking for his soul. Then I did turn my face to the way that does lead to the cathedral. On the way I met with Elizabeth Barrett Browning and Brave Horatius and Isaiah. Together we did go to the cathedral. We went unto the little tree that I have planted there for rememberings of good John Milton, for this day is the day of his borning in 1608. We did have prayers. It was so lonesome—Peter Paul Rubens not being there to grunt Amen at in-between times. Brave Horatius came near unto me when prayers were most done. He did put his nose against my hand for a pat. I gave him two. One was for him and one was for Peter Paul Rubens that was.

Then we all did go in the way that does lead to the singing creek where the willows grow. When we were come, all that were with me did stand very close by. They so did stand while I did drop the gray leaves upon the water. All the forty-two leaves I did gather I did drop upon the water, for this is the day of the going-away of Antoine Van Dyck in 1641. And his years they were forty-two. When the leaves were all upon the water I did say a little prayer, and we came home. It was most dark-time and the lamp on the kitchen table did shine its light out the window. And it came down the path to meet us.

There were pictures on the window-panes when I woke up this morning. By-and-by the fire in the stove made the room warm, and the pictures on the window-panes went away. I was sorry when they went away. I so did like to look looks at them.

When I did have my breakfast, the mamma did send me to take a bucket of something with eggs on top it to the ranch-house. The outdoors did have coldness. It did make my fingers to have queer feels. And my nose felt like I did n’t have any. Brave Horatius followed after me as I did go along. As I did go along, I did see ice on the mud-puddles. Every now and then I did stop to break the ice on the mud-puddles. I broke the ice to see what was in the water. Under the ice that was over the cow-tracks there was no water—only dirt, cold and stiff, with little crystals on it.

When I was come to the ranch-house, the grandma did come to the door, and she took the bucket of something with eggs on top it, that the mamma did send to her. I started on to school. I did go as far as the pump. I made a stop there. I was going to give its handle some lift-ups and some pull-downs, so water would come out. I have likes to see water come out of that pump. But to-day water won’t come out of the pump. The pump-handle won’t go up and down. The grandpa said it froze in the night. I think it has got the croup. I expect it needs some coal-oil. I have thinks I must tend to that pump to-night.

All day here at school I now do study. For little bits of times I do study my school-book. But most of the time I do study the books Angel Father and Angel Mother did write in. I do study these most every day at school. I do study the spell of the words. And after times and before times I do sing the spelling of the words to the gentle Jersey cow while I do ride her to pasture. And I sit in the manger at evening-time and sing the spellings of these words to William Shakespeare when he is come home from work in the woods. I have thinks most of my animal friends do have knowings of the spellings of these words. It so often is I do sing the spellings of these words to them.

When I did come home from school to-night, I did make a stop at that pump to see how much coal-oil it did need for its croup. But it had no needs to be tended. The croup that it did have on this morning was all gone. When I did give its handle some lift-ups and some push-downs, water did come out. I watched it. It stopped coming out when I did stop giving it lift-ups and push-downs. I went on. I saw the black cat by the barn. On cold nights I have given that cat long rubs on its back, and sparks have come. I did have thinks about sparky things as I did come on home. Now I have knowings of these. Cats are sparky—black ones on a cold night. Stoves are sparky on cold days. Rocks are sparky—flint ones when you give them a thump. The chore boy says some people are sparky. He does n’t know what he is talking about.

When I was come into the house we live in, I gave the baby a gentle thump. It squawked, but there were no sparks. Then the mamma came in the back door. She had not knows why it squawked, but she did tell me to mind it. I so did. The mamma went out again to the house of Elsie. When she was gone, I did sing to the baby a new song I did make up to-day. Most every day I do make up a song. I sing them not when the mamma is in the house, for she does give me most hard spankings when I do start to sing them. To-day I did teeter the baby on the bed as she said. And more I did. I did sing to her the new song. I did sing to her,—

“Maintenant est hiver,
Le ciel est gris,
Le champ est tranquille,
Les fleurs dorment,
Maintenant est hiver.”