feud is kept up. Look here, boy; suppose you were to run against young Ralph now, what would happen?”

“There’d be a fight,” cried the lad, flushing up; and he drew in his breath with a hiss.

“Of course!” sneered the old man.

“Well, he never sees me without insulting me.”

“And you never see him without doing the same.”

“But—”

“But! Bah! I haven’t patience with you all. Six of one; half a dozen of the other. Both your families well off in this world’s goods, and yet miserable, Fathers, two Ahabs, longing for the other’s land to make a garden of herbs; and if they got it, a nice garden of herbs it would be! Why, Mark Eden, as I’m a scholar and a gentleman, my income is fifty pounds a year. My cottage is my own, and I’m a happier man than either of your fathers. Look about you, boy—here, at the great God’s handiwork; wherever your eyes rest, you see beauty. Look at this silvery flashing river, the lovely great trees, the beautiful cliffs, and up yonder in the distance at the soft blues of the mountains, melting into the bluer skies. Did you ever see anything more glorious than this dale?”

“Never,” cried the lad enthusiastically.

“Good, boy! That came from the heart. That heart’s young and soft, and true, as I know. Don’t let it get crusted over with the hard shell of a feud. Life’s too great and grand to be wasted over a miserable quarrel, and in efforts to make others wretched. And it’s so idiotic, Mark, for you can’t hurt other people without hurting yourself more. Look here, next time you, spring boy, meet the other spring boy, act at once; don’t wait till you are summer men, or autumn men. When you get to be a winter man as I am, it will be too late. Begin now, while it is early with you. Hold out your hand and shake his, and become fast friends. Teach your fathers what they ought to have done when they were young. Come, promise me that.”

“I can’t, sir,” said the boy, frowning. “And if I could, Ralph Darley would laugh in my face.”

“Bah!” ejaculated the old man, stamping the butt of his rod in the water. “There, I’ve done with you both. You are a pair of young ravens, sons of the old ravens, who have their nests up on the stony cliffs, and you’ll both grow up to be as bad and bitter as your fathers, and take to punching out the young lambs’ eyes with your beaks. I’ve done with you both.”

“No, you haven’t, Master Rayburn,” said the lad softly. “I was coming to see you this evening, to ask you to go with me for a day, hunting for minerals and those stones you showed me in the old cavern, where the hot spring is.”

“Done with you, quite,” said the old man fiercely, as he began to bait his hook with another worm.

“And I say, Master Rayburn, I want to come and read with you.”

“An untoward generation,” said the old man. “There, be off! I’m wasting time, and I want my trout, and thymallus, my grayling, for man must eat, and it’s very nice to eat trout and grayling, boy. Be off! I’ve quite done with you.” And the old man turned his back, and waded a few steps upstream.

“I say, Master Rayburn,” continued the lad, “when you said ‘Bah!’ in that sharp way, it was just like the bark of one of the great black birds.”

“What, sir!” snapped the old man; “compare me to a raven?”

“You compared me and my father, and the Darleys, all to ravens, sir.”

“Humph! Yes, so I did,” muttered the old fisherman.

“I didn’t mean to be rude. But you reminded me: I saw one of them fly over just before I met you, sir. Do you know where they are nesting this year?”

“Eh?” cried the fisherman, turning sharply, with a look of interest in his handsome old face. “Well, not for certain, Mark, but I’ve seen them several times lately—mischievous, murderous wretches. They kill a great many lambs. They’re somewhere below, near the High Cliffs. I shouldn’t at all wonder, if you got below there and hid among the bushes, you’d see where they came. It’s sure to be in the rock face.”

“I should like to get the young ones,” said the lad.

“Yes, do, my boy; and if you find an addled egg or two, save them for me. Bring then on, and we’ll blow them.”

“I will,” said the lad, smiling.—“Don’t be hard on me, Master Rayburn.”

“Eh? No, no, my boy; but I can’t help being a bit put out sometimes. Coming down this evening, were you? Do. I’ll save you a couple of grayling for supper—if I catch any,” he added, with a smile.

“May I come?”

“Of course. Come early, my boy. I’ve a lot of things to show you that I’ve found since you were at home, and we’ll plan out some reading, eh? Mustn’t go back and get rusty, because you are at home. We’ll read a great deal, and then you won’t have time to think about knocking Ralph Darley’s brains out—if he has any. You haven’t much, or you wouldn’t help to keep up this feud.”

“Oh, please don’t say any more about that, Master Rayburn.”

“Not a word, boy. Must go on—a beautiful worm morning.”

The old man turned his back again.

“Don’t be late,” he cried; and he waded onward, stooping, and looking more humped and comical than ever, as he bent forward to throw his bait into likely places, while Mark Eden went onward down-stream.

“I like old Master Rayburn,” he said to himself; “but I wish he wouldn’t be so bitter about the old trouble. It isn’t our fault. Father would be only too glad to shake hands and be friends, if the Darleys were only nice, instead of being such savage beasts.”

He went on, forcing his way among the bushes, and clambering over the great blocks of stone which strewed the sides of the river, and then stopped suddenly, as he sent up a moor-hen, which flew across the river, dribbling its long thin toes in the water as it went.

“I wonder,” he said thoughtfully, “whether the Darleys think we are beasts too?”