All the afternoon the muddy sky hung low over the hills and dull prairie, while he sat there looking at the dingy gloom: just as you and I have done, perhaps, some time, thwarted in some true hope,--sore and bitter against God, because He did not see how much His universe needed our pet reform.
He got up at last, and without a sigh went slowly away, leaving the courage and self-reliance of his life behind him, buried with that one beautiful, fair dream of life.

He never came back again.

People said Knowles was quieter since his loss; but I think only God saw the depth of the difference.

When he was leaving the plateau, that day, he looked back at it, as if to say good-bye,--not to the dingy fields and river, but to the Something he had nursed so long in his rugged heart, and given up now forever.

As he looked, the warm, red sun came out, lighting up with a heartsome warmth the whole gray day.