THE HISTORY OF AN OLD FRIEND. 207 



down, but there is nothing there save a flock of wood- 

 duck, halting for a day on their southern migration. He 

 looks at you ; do you see his contentment, his happy face, 

 his honest ways — just enough of labor to provide him a 

 home — just enough of leisure to learn the world his God 

 has made ? He moves into the water, and, bowing low 

 his head to his now cheerful friend, he bids the day and 

 you good night. 



When I had finished my history, I looked around upon 

 my auditors, and found that, with the exception of Lou 

 Jackson, they were all asleep. 



