27. The pony turned toward her, and rubbed his head against her arm for an instant or two; then, pricking up his ears, he started off at a light, cheerful trot, and went on his way as freely as if no silly crotchet had ever entered his stubborn brain.
28. "What a wonderful power that hand possesses!" said I, speaking to my companion, as we rode away.
29. He looked at me for a moment, as if my remark had occasioned surprise. Then a light came into his countenance, and he said briefly, "She's good! Everybody and everything loves her."
30. Was that, indeed, the secret of her power? Was the quality of her soul perceived in the impression of her hand, even by brute beasts! The father's explanation was doubtless the true one. Yet have I ever since wondered, and still do wonder, at the potency which lay in that maiden's magic touch. I have seen something of the same power, showing itself in the loving and the good, but never to the extent as instanced in her, whom, for want of a better name, I must still call "Gentle Hand."
DEFINITIONS.—2. Vi-cin'i-ty, neighborhood. 16. Un-ob-tru'-sive-ly, not noticeably, modestly. 17. Re-pul'sive, repelling, forbid-ding. 18. Po'tent, powerful, effective. Host, one from whom another receives food, lodging, or entertainment. 20. Per'emp-to-ry, commanding, decisive. 21. A-vailed', was of use, had effect. 22. Al-ly', a confederate, one who unites with another in some purpose. 25. Tense, strained to stiffness, rigid. Re-laxed', loosened. 20. Chid'ing, scolding, rebuking. 27. Crotch'et, a perverse fancy, a whim. 30. In'stanced, mentioned as an example.
IV. THE GRANDFATHER.
Charles G. Eastman (b. 1816, d.1861) was born in Maine, but removed at an early age to Vermont, where he was connected with the press at Burlington, Woodstock, and Montpelier. He published a volume of poems in 1848, written in a happy lyric and ballad style, and faithfully portraying rural life in New England.
1. The farmer sat in his easy-chair
Smoking his pipe of clay,
While his hale old wife with busy care,
Was clearing the dinner away;
A sweet little girl with fine blue eyes,
On her grandfather's knee, was catching flies.
2. The old man laid his hand on her head,
With a tear on his wrinkled face,
He thought how often her mother, dead,
Had sat in the selfsame place;
As the tear stole down from his half-shut eye,
"Don't smoke!" said the child, "how it makes you cry!"
3. The house dog lay stretched out on the floor,
Where the shade, afternoons, used to steal;
The busy old wife by the open door
Was turning the spinning wheel,
And the old brass clock on the manteltree
Had plodded along to almost three.