They fairly bristled with an intense attention.  You said the last word, of the last line.  Then—­absolute, unbroken—­Silence!  Finally—­but without another word—­you reached down, patted the youngest one on his wet curly Locks.  The Wizard whispered to the driver “Go.”  As the team, in a brisk trot, started away. you, still standing, coatless, hatless, waved your hand—­in that quick little jerky fashion peculiar to you—­to those little naked Urchins.  With a mighty Shout, they ran back to the Pool, and gave a rapid-firing Exhibition of the Single Dive; the Double Dive; and one—­a dare-devil—­the Triple Dive!  What a Memory, what a Priceless Memory, you must have given those Boys of Martinsville, that Ideal Summer Afternoon, in the Long While Ago!  Martinsville!  To you of Blessed Memory!  For the sake of an early, enduring, Friendship, did you not encrust one Jap Miller of Martinsville with no mean verse?  And did it not run something like this?

  Jap Miller down at Martinsville’s the blamedest feller yit! 
  When he starts in a-talkin’ other folks is apt to quit!—­
  ‘Pears like that mouth o’ his’n wuzn’t made fer nothin’ else
  But jes’ to argify ’em down and gether in their pelts: 
  He’ll talk you down on tariff; er he’ll talk you down on tax. 
  And prove the pore man pays ’em all and them’s about the fac’s! 
  Religen, law, er politics, prize-fightin’, er base-ball
  Jes’ tetch Jap up a little and he’ll post you ’bout ’em all.

* * * * *

  W’y, that-air blame Jap Miller, with his keen sircastic fun,
  Has got more friends than ary candidate ’at ever run! 
  Don’t matter what his views is, when he states the same to you,
  They allus coincide with your’n, the same as two and two: 
  You can’t take issue with him—­er, at least, they haint no sense
  In startin’ in to down him, so you better not commence.—­
  The best way’s jes’ to listen, like your humble servant does. 
  And jes’ concede Jap Miller is the best man ever wuz!

On the drive back to the little Station, you were the Man, the Poet, but not the Mystic!  You delighted the Wizard with your genial flow of Verse, of Story.  When the watchful Wizard, smuggled you aboard your train—­with privacy unbroken you, like King Saul, returned to your People, refreshed in body, restored in mind; for had not the Wizard done for you, as David did for Saul, for had not he brought Peace to your no longer Troubled Soul?  Did he not say to you, in parting, “All Is Well With You?”

O!  James Whitcomb Riley!  It is late in the Afternoon, of a Perfect Summer Day.  This Man From Down On The Farm, is standing on the Banks Of Wolf Run.  He is thinking of You!  Joyfully, not Regretfully!  A Pastoral Scene stretches before him—­ a Scene of much Beauty!  The Cattle stand, not “knee-deep in June” but well into the pure rippling Waters