All this the lad saw, and,
raising his face skyward, drew in a long draught of such air as
never reaches beyond the prairies.
"Oh, but it's good!" exclaimed he, with more meaning to the simple
phrase than many a man has put to an oration. And then he muttered,
as he walked on,--
"If it wasn't for the thought that's always lying like a stone at
the bottom of my heart, there'd not be a happier fellow alive to-day
than I. Oh the little sister!-the little sister that I never shall
forget, nor forgive myself for the loss of!"
And, from the cottonwood above his head, a mocking-bird, who had
perhaps caught the trick of grief from some neighbor whippoorwill,
poured suddenly a flood of plaintive melody, that to the boy's warm
Irish fancy seemed a lament over the loved and lost.
He took off his hat, and looked up into the tree.
"Heaven's blessings on you, birdy!" said he. "It's the very way I'd
have said it myself; but I didn't know how."
The mocking-bird flew on; and Teddy followed, hoping for a
repetition of the strain: but the capricious little songster only
twittered promises of a coming happiness greater than any pleasure
his best efforts could afford, and darted away to the recesses of
the forest, where was in progress an Art-Union matin‚e of such music
as all the wealth of all our cities cannot buy for us.
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