s for her special benefit. She thought of him by day, and
when night came on, the hideous night of darkness, when her awakened
soul longed for light, she thought of him. When her body passed into the
oblivion of peaceful slumber she dreamed of him, of the man who had done
so much toward enlightening her mind and soul, who had brought her out
of the darkness and set her upon a high pinnacle of knowledge, where
light shone in on her benighted being and she saw. He had spoken to her
of God, a great God, Maker of the mighty universe, as no one had ever
before spoken to her. The light shone brighter from his eyes as he
talked to her about things of which she had hitherto known nothing. The
song of the little bird in the tree top, the little wild bird, sounded
sweeter than it was wont in times past. Their notes came clearer and had
a new meaning. Her darkened soul opened wide its closed windows and the
light came streaming in until she saw through different eyes. Her
interest in the wild, golden-headed flowers that grew in great profusion
along the ridge of the mountain grew day by day, until she felt she must
plant a garden of her own somewhere near the cabin, so that she could go
out and work among the flowers and talk with them. Her very soul yearned
for something new, something it had not felt before.

She was kind and tender toward her big brown dog, in which she now saw a
true friend. They had always been friends in a way, but that way had
been to kick him and speak gruffly to him. Those things she did no more.
She did not kick the old brindle cow in the flanks and say: "Saw thar,
durn ye! or ye'll git yer head knock off," but the rather she pushed her
gently and spoke kindly to her. "Be very careful, Brindle, don't step on
my toes or turn the milk over, I am not going to hurt you." So the old
brindle cow saw and knew and quit blinking her eyes when Nora was near.
She formerly began blinking when she saw the girl coming out of the
house with the milk pails, because she had grown to expect a crack over
the solid portion of her head before the milking process began. The
consequence of a life of continued abuses was that she had formed a
great habit of blinking both eyes when near one of the feminine gender.
Not so any more. The old cow naturally wondered at the strange, sweet
change, her own life was made the more peaceful because no one set the
dog to biting her heels every time she poked her head around the corner
of the