"I have been thinking of that same thing, Sir William," replied the baker; "but where to send him I know not, unless it be to his mother's uncle, old Tommy Sprat at Holford. He is a good man, though plain and somewhat austere perhaps in his manners, and wonderful sparing of his words in general, as I think indeed shepherds are apt to be." "Ay, their occupation, by its silence and solitariness, doth naturally dispose them, if they be at all men of parts or understanding, to contemplation and musing. Hence, perhaps, the favor shown them of old in making known to shepherds the first news of the Birth at Bethlehem. David, too, the great king and sweet singer of Israel, was a shepherd." "Was he really?" asked Jack, much interested, "that King David who made the Psalms?" The priest assented. "And was he the same you told us of in school one day, the young lad who killed with his sling and stone the fierce giant who defied the king's armies so long?" "Even so, my son," answered the priest, smiling at the boy's eager interest. "King David was for many years a shepherd lad, and wandered over the hills and plains with his father's flocks and herds, even that same David who wrote:" "'The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.'" "Our Lord, too, is called the shepherd of His people." "'I am the good shepherd, the good shepherd giveth his life for the sheep.'" "'My sheep hear my voice, and they follow me, and none is able to pluck them out of my hand.'" "'He shall feed flock like a shepherd, He shall carry the lambs in His bosom.'" The priest seemed to have forgotten where he was, as he repeated these words, and then became silent, looking out of the window with a rapt and joyful expression, as if he saw more than met the eyes of others. Jack and his father exchanged awe-struck glances, but did not venture to speak. It was whispered among his flock, that the pure and saintly life of William Leavett had not been unrewarded even in this world, that he had more than once been favored with visions of heavenly things, and that angels had visited his dreams. "I crave your pardon, Master Lucas. I fear I am unmannerly," said the priest, at last, coming out of his abstraction, with a sweet smile. "I am somewhat absent-minded, you know, and I think that the infirmity increases upon me with years. My advice, Master Lucas, if I may venture to give it unasked, is, that you send our scholar here, to keep sheep with this uncle of his in the country, and see if the June air which blows over the hills will not bring the color to his cheek and the light to his eyes."