A CHILD OF THE PEOPLE 99 



Mine is the peace of the quiet hill. 



I left the forehead of the day. 

 When all the storms of night were still, 



To kiss a child at play. 



Mine is the gift of the power to live, 

 Of the well of life — all-clear, all-true — 



And life, and all that life can give, . 

 Dear child, is given to you. 



Something of this the curious person would have 

 said, could little Pete have stayed to hear it. But 

 it was scarcely half a minute before he was suddenly 

 seized and carried away from the fountain and out 

 through the iron gates with words of cursing that 

 were worse than blows. A woman carried him so. 



In the cathedral the organ is pealing, for the 

 afternoon service is half-way through. It is the 

 solo of the anthem. Listen : " — shall lead them 

 unto living fountains of waters." Ah ! there is 

 something for little Pete. Think of that, little Pete 

 — ^^ living fountains." Just the ford to cross, and 

 the other side to reach, and there the children play. 



Happy as you were that moment by the fountain, 

 as happy always. Oh, but happier far. For only 

 where the living fountains are is life completely 

 happy, for only there is life itself complete. 



