The student disclaimed such power, but it was of no use. The farmer
insisted that one who knew the power of figures must be able to locate
his cow. Else, of what use to go to college; why not stay at home and
find the cows after the manner of the unlearned? So the student decided
to quiz a little. He took a piece of chalk and drew crazy diagrams on
the floor. The farmer thought he recognized in the lines the roads and
fences of the vicinity, rubbed his hands, and exclaimed:--

"You are coming to it! Don't tell me you don't know the power of
figures!"

At last, when the poor student had exhausted the power of his
invention, he threw down the chalk, and pointing to the spot where it
fell, said:--

"Your cow is there!"

He had a good bed, but could not rest easy on it for the thought of how
he was to get out of the scrape in the morning, when it would be surely
known that his figures had lied. He decided that he would steal off
before any of the family had arisen. In the early dawn he was
congratulating himself upon having got out of the house unobserved,
when he was met at the gate by the old farmer himself, who was leading
the cow home in triumph. He had found her exactly where the figures had
foretold. Of course the mathematician must go back to breakfast--what
was he running off for, after doing such a service by his learning?

They stood again by the cabalistic diagram on the floor of the kitchen.

"You needn't tell me you don't know the power of figures," exclaimed
the good man, "for the cow was just there!"

For once, the clergyman said, Satan had done him a good turn.

[Illustration: SCENE ON COUNTRY BROOK]

Nearly all the early letters and poems of Whittier, written before he
gave up every selfish ambition and devoted his life to philanthropic
work, show how great was the change that came over his spirit when
about twenty-five years of age. Before that time he imagined that the
world was treating him harshly, and he was bracing himself for a
contest with it, with a feeling that he was surrounded by enemies. His
tone was almost invariably pessimistic. After the change referred to,
he habitually saw friends on every side, gave up selfish ambitions, and
a cheerful optimism pervaded his outlook upon life. The following
extract from a letter written in April, 1831, while editing the "New
England Review," to a literary lady in New Haven, is in the prevailing
tone of what he wrote in the earlier period. Thi