is everything. He will do all for the
best."

"Oh, yes," the young man said, as they turned toward Apple Orchard
house again, "I am getting to do that--and I pray now, Redbud," he
added, looking toward the sky, "I pray to the Great Spirit, as we call
him--"

Redbud looked greatly delighted, and said:

"That is better than all; I do not see how any one can live without
praying."

"I used to," Verty replied.

"It was so wrong."

"Yes, yes."

"And Verty gazed at the sunset with his dreamy, yet kindling eyes.

"If there is a Great Spirit, we ought to talk to him," he said, "and
tell him what we want, and ask him to make us good; I think so at
least--"

"Indeed we should."

"Then," continued Verty, "if that is true, we ought to think whether
there is or is not such a spirit. There may be people in towns
who don't believe there is--but I am obliged to. Look at the sun,
Redbud--the beautiful sun going away like a great torch dying
out;--and look at the clouds, as red as if a thousand deer had come to
their death, and poured their blood out in a river! Look at the woods
here, every color of the bow in the cloud, and the streams, and rocks,
and all! There must be a Great Spirit who loves men, or he never would
have made the world so beautiful."

Verty paused, and they went on slowly.

"We love him because he first loved us," said Redbud, thoughtfully.

"Yes, and what a love it must have been. Oh me!" said the young man,
"I sometimes think of it until my heart is melted to water, and my
eyes begin to feel heavy. What love it was!--and if we do not love in
return, what punishment is great enough for such a crime!"

And Verty's face was raised with a dreamy, reverent look toward the
sky. Youth, manhood, age--if they but thought of it!--but youth is a
dream--manhood the waking--age the return to slumber. Busy, arranging
the drapery of their couches, whether of royal purple or of beggar's
rags, they cannot find the time to think of other things--even to
listen to the grim breakers, with their awful voices roaring on the
lee!

So, under the autumn skies, the young man and the maiden drew near
home. Apple Orchard smiled on them as they came, and the bluff Squire,
seated upon the portico, and reading that "Virginia Gazette" maligned
by Roundjacket, gave them welcome with a hearty, laughing greeting.

The Squire declared that Redbud's cheeks were beginning to be
tolerably red again; that she had been pretending si