soothing powder among them,
so deep and sweet was the slumber that came.

Next day began the wholesome out-of-door life, which works such wonders
with tired minds and feeble bodies. The weather was perfect, and the
mountain air made the children as frisky as young lambs; while the
elders went about smiling at one another, and saying, "Isn't it
splendid?" Even Mac, the "slow coach," was seen to leap over a fence
as if he really could not help it; and when Rose ran after him with his
broad-brimmed hat, he made the spirited proposal to go into the woods
and hunt for a catamount.

Jamie and Pokey were at once enrolled in the Cosey Corner Light Infantry
a truly superb company, composed entirely of officers, all wearing
cocked hats, carrying flags, waving swords, or beating drums. It was a
spectacle to stir the dullest soul when this gallant band marched out of
the yard in full regimentals, with Captain Dove a solemn, big-headed
boy of eleven issuing his orders with the gravity of a general, and his
Falstaffian regiment obeying them with more docility than skill. The
little Snow children did very well, and Lieutenant Jack Dove was fine
to see; so was Drummer Frank, the errand-boy of the house, as he
rub-a-dub-dubbed with all his heart and drumsticks. Jamie had "trained"
before, and was made a colonel at once; but Pokey was the best of all,
and called forth a spontaneous burst of applause from the spectators
as she brought up the rear, her cocked hat all over one eye, her flag
trailing over her shoulder, and her wooden sword straight up in the air;
her face beaming and every curl bobbing with delight as her fat legs
tottered in the vain attempt to keep step manfully.

Mac and Rose were picking blackberries in the bushes beside the road
when the soldiers passed without seeing them, and they witnessed a sight
that was both pretty and comical. A little farther on was one of the
family burial spots so common in those parts, and just this side of it
Captain Fred Dove ordered his company to halt, explaining his reason for
so doing in the following words,

"That's a graveyard, and it's proper to muffle the drums and lower the
flags as we go by, and we'd better take off our hats, too; it's more
respectable, I think."

"Isn't that cunning of the dears?" whispered Rose, as the little troop
marched slowly by to the muffled roll of the drums, every flag and sword
held low, all the little heads uncovered, and the childish faces very