"No, I didn't," said Sam. "Did you save her tail to make a fly brush?" queried Mr. Horne. "No," answered old Sam. "I never thought of it." "Did you skin her?" asked his questioner bending over. "Did you skin her?" "No," said Sam, thoroughly humiliated. "Well," said Mr. Horne with exuberant sarcasm, as he shook his reins over his team of fat Clydesdales, "It's well you can afford such such waste. I couldn't." CHAPTER II. "Say where In upper air Dost hope to find fulfilment of thy dream? On what far peak seest thou a morning gleam? Why shall the stars still blind thee unaware? Why needst thou mount to sing? Why seek the sun's fierce-tempered glow and glare? Why shall a soulless impulse prompt thy wing?" The next day Andrew Cutler went to complete the sowing of the clearing. It was somewhat chill, and he wore an old velveteen coat whose ribbed surface was sadly rubbed and faded to a dingy russet. More than that, it was burnt through in several round spots by ashes from his pipes and cigars. As usual, Rufus followed him, and a very picturesque pair the two made. The air was very clear, the smoke from the village curling bluely up high to the clouds, no shred of it lingering about the roof trees. He could see some white pigeons flying about the church spire; and off to the right, where the river ran, he could see lines of white flashing a moment in the sun, then falling beyond the trees, and these he knew were flashes from the shining breasts and wings of the gulls. The ground had not yet lost the elasticity of spring, and the new grass had not yet quite overcome the dead growth of the year before. It was a buoyant day, and Andrew was in a buoyant mood. He had not come out without the expectation of hearing more singing, and he promised himself he would not wait so long before beginning his search for the singer, whom he took to be the boarder at the Morris house. However, it seemed as if he was to be disappointed, for the sun grew strong, the air warm, and no music came to him. His sowing was
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