But
when her son and Jabez grew to man's estate, at about the same period,
they necessarily at times crossed each other's paths; and as in them the
prejudices and enmities of their elders were somewhat softened, they
would, when they met on the road, exchange a passing nod or a brief "Good
morning."
Another generation still, and the boys of the two houses met as friends.
Thanks to his mother's successful rebellion, John Whitefoot grew up a
hearty, healthy boy, with a bright eye, a merry laugh, and a frank, open
bearing.
"One would think," his grandfather remarked angrily one day, as the boy
went out, whistling gaily, to fetch in a young colt Jabez was about to
break, "that John was the son of a malignant, or one of the men of
Charles Stuart, rather than of a God-fearing tiller of the soil."
"So long as he fears God, and walks in the right way, he is none the
worse for that, father," Jabez said stoutly; "and even you would hardly
say that his mother has failed in her teachings in that respect. I do not
know that, so long as one has the words of Scripture in his heart, he is
any the better for having them always on his lips; in other respects, I
regret not that the boy should have a spirit and a fire which I know I
lack myself.
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