wn and kissed him,
and said, 'You're a _man_, son.' How proud that made the little
fellow! Parents should praise their children more; the little things
work hard for a few words of praise, and many of them never get their
pay.

"Well, the little fellow would have no help to harness his mule; so
Fanny and I went to the house, and Fanny said, 'We ought to cook an
extra good dinner to celebrate Davie's first ploughing. I'll go down
in the pasture and gather some blackberries if you will make a
cobbler.'

"She was gone all morning. About ten o'clock, I took a pail of fresh
water down to the field. I knew Davie would be thirsty, and I was
uneasy about him, but he was all right. He pushed his ragged old hat
back and wiped the sweat from his brow just as his father would have
done. I petted him a little, but he was so mannish he didn't want me
to pet him any more. After he drank, he took up his lines again, and
said, 'Just watch me, mother; see how I can plough.' I told him that
we were going to have chicken and dumplings for dinner, and that he
must sit in his father's place and help us to berry-cobbler. As he had
only a few more rows to plough, I went back, telling myself how
foolish I had been to be afraid.

"Twelve o'clock came, but not Davie. I sent Fanny to the spring for
the buttermilk and waited a while, thinking little Dave had not
finished as soon as he had expected. I went to the field. Little Dave
lay on his face in the furrow. I gathered him up in my arms; he was
yet alive; he put one weak little arm around my neck, and said, 'Oh,
mammy, I'm hurt. The mule kicked me in the stomach.'

"I don't know how I got to the house with him; I stumbled over clods
and weeds, through the hot sunshine. I sank down on the porch in the
shade, with the precious little form clasped tightly to me. He smiled,
and tried to speak, but the blood gurgled up into his throat and my
little boy was gone.

"I would have died of grief if I hadn't had to work so hard. Big Dave
got too warm at work that day, and when Fanny went for him and told
him about little Dave, he ran all the way home; he was crazy with
grief and forgot the horses. The trouble and the heat and the overwork
brought on a fever. I had no time for tears for three months, and by
that time my heart was hardened against my Maker. I got deeper in the
rut of work, but I had given up my ambition for a home of my own; all
I wanted to do was to work so hard that I could not thin