But one hot day in summer--and I take an unholy pleasure in writing this--Sonnlein and a lot of other boys and girls, were paddling bare-legged in the cool waters of the Cocalico, nigh the turnpike ford, filling the air with their thoughtless shrieks and laughter, so that the quiet-loving Brothers and Sisters were sorely tried in patience. Suddenly the harmless shrieks and laughter rose into a tremendous uproar, and so unusual was this tumult to mine ears I started hurriedly for the ford, fearing some awful calamity had befallen the children. As I came nigh I saw a lot of boys of all ages and sizes--so I wondered where they all came from--gathered in a struggling, yelling mass in the meadow along the creek, a fringe of frightened, white-faced little girls in the background--each boy, large and small, with might and main pressing forward toward the center of the howling little maniacs as if something of great moment were proceeding there. And indeed there was, for I was almost on them before they saw me or heard me call out sternly, "What meaneth all this noise?" When they did hear me and see my form hanging over them like some great thunder cloud they fled quickly, only that some from a distance in derision of my tonsure cried out at me, "_Alter_ _Blatkopf_" (old baldhead), so that like Elisha I wished the bears to eat them up. All but two had fled, and they were rolling about in the grass, now one on top and then the other, then to their feet, striking, clawing, and scratching like nothing so much as two angry cats; but suddenly the smaller but more active one, who seemed to me strangely like Sonnlein, delivered a marvelously directed blow full upon the upturned nose of the other, bringing forth a goodly stream of rich, red blood, whereupon the bleeding one put across the meadows, his hand to his face, bawling at the top of his lungs, the victorious gladiator following a short distance and crying after the vanquished, "Dost want some more of 'Brother Jabez' chicken'?" and then horrors upon horrors, I saw through all the mud and dirt and disordered hair, and the fierce, distorted features, 'twas my boy Sonnlein! He saw me about the same time, and then the angry face fell into one of shame as I called to him, "Come hither!" He came obediently enough, saying nothing; but the wild passion of conflict could not die out at once, and as he stood there, digging his toes into the earth and casting sullen, rebellious glances at me, such as I had never received from him, and sorely they wounded me, he blurted out, "He began 't." "Have I not often told thee," I demanded, as much in sorrow as in anger, "thou must not fight? Would couldst see thyself now to know how much like the beasts we become when we stoop to fight and tear each other asunder." Still he said, but less defiantly, "He began 't, I tell thee." "Art thou not sorry for breaking his nose?" I asked.