erby odors. Here and there one comes to
trees whose leaves are all a vivid glowing crimson. You can't imagine any
thing more beautiful when the light shines through them. Through openings
in the columned aisles one sees fields steeped in golden glamour, where
float feathery tufts of down. There also linger a few late golden-rods,
and butterflies with limbs chilled by the crisp air.

Later on those same meadows are enveloped morn and eve in veils of
floating white mist; the golden-rod is gone; the butterflies lie in their
shroud; but grape-vines are loaded with rich purple clusters, ripened by
the frost. The beautiful persimmon trees glow with luscious fruit.
Roberta's mother used to gather the persimmon apples and pack them away in
glass jars, in alternate layers of fruit and sugar. They are as nice as
dates. Wherever you turn the ground is covered with nuts--hickories,
walnuts, and chestnuts. You can hear them "drop" every few seconds.
Sometimes I think our Kentucky woods were made for children.

That afternoon I am going to tell you about, when the forks of the road
were reached, Squire lifted the children down, cautioning them against
lingering too late, mounted his wagon and was about starting when there
appeared a little ahead two horsemen riding abreast and coming directly
toward the children. They were dressed in gray, and sat their horses with
the air of "Charlie has come to his own again," softly singing snatches of
"My Old Kentucky Home." Roberta could hardly believe her eyes.

"O, Uncle Squire, it's the rebels, it's the rebels!"

"Yes, it's 'pintly dem," he answered, a broad grin overspreading his face.

When they came up with the children they drew rein, and one of them
reached out his hand to Roberta. It was the soldier boy.

"Have you come for your gun?" asked she.

[Illustration: "Have you come for your gun?" the child asked. "Yes, and to
see you," was the reply.]

"Yes, and to see you."

The child had no coquetry in her nature, else would have noticed the
earnest look in the boy's brown eyes that accompanied his significantly
spoken words. As it was, she only smiled and said:

"Well, I kept it for you; and are you as hungry as you were that night?"

"Well, yes, I reckon so. Soldiers generally are; at least our boys are.
But why do you ask? I wanted you to forget how many beat biscuits I ate."

"Because I've got a nice lunch here that I will give you. Aunt Judy fixed
it up for me to have a tea