They led the old mule to the barn, and gave him ten ears of corn and two bundles of oats. Sandy got up at daylight the next morning and repeated the dose; the old mule knew something was up. Then Sandy came to the house and put on some clothes that had been sent up from Red Bird. Jeannette came to breakfast a little late; she had on a short-skirted riding habit. Simeon and his wife tried not to show their surprise. She kept still; he exercised less restraint or exhibited more curiosity than his wife—they say men have more. “What’s up, Sandy? Why have you put on your Sunday clothes, this is Saturday?” And Sandy answered: “Jeannette and I are going to Hyden to be married.” “Well, I’ll be d——d! How’re you going?” “She’ll ride the old mule; I’ll walk and lead the beast.” “Why it’s fifteen miles; it’ll take all day.” “That’s all right.” “You better take my horse.” “No, Jeannette wants to ride the old mule and wants me to lead him. She’s boss until tomorrow.” “Well, I’ll be d——d!” ———— It was nearly midnight when they came home again. After feeding the old mule, they sat down on the door-step. “My Captain, will you get your violin and play some real music?” “Jeannette, how did that old mule ever manage to travel to Hyden and back with such a load of sweetness?” “By dint of placing one foot before the other, Sandy. We were only sixteen hours on the road; we made nearly two miles an hour. I do not think I would care to hear ‘The Arkansaw Traveler’ after that journey; but suppose you end the day, it must be merging into the morrow, by playing ‘Turkey in the Straw.’” The old familiar tune awoke Simeon and he awoke his wife. “Listen, Mandy! those crazy things are back. Hear Sandy, he’s playing ‘Turkey in the Straw;’ that boy will never settle down.” He called out: “Go to bed and give other people a chance to sleep; or else keep still and start breakfast.” In a little while the house was very still. There was no sound except the chirping of the cricket of the hearth. You who dwell in cities and know nothing of firesides, may not appreciate his simple song. The Cricket’s Song. I. Chorister of the hearth, When stillness reigns, I sing To God, Eternal King, Praises for the fireside. II. Thy simple souls dwell here, Content throughout the year. Love garlands every day; Peace keeps harsh words away. III. Grant the door open wide For young and happy bride, With husband by her side; May their sweet dream come true. IV. When morning star doth rise Joy comes; the baby cries; New mother with glad eyes, Beholds hers and Thine own. V. Make this a place of rest; The place that God loves best; The place where love abides; God bless our happy home. BIRTH-MARKS CHAPTER I.—“And to Every Seed His Own Body.”