That universal life which coursed through all the various forms of being around him, bounded in tides through his own veins.  The fresh morning air, the tender light of dawning day, the odors of plants and songs of birds, filled his sensitive soul with unutterable delight.

In the midst of all these beauties and wonders, he existed without self-consciousness and labored without effort.  His heart was pure and his oneness with the natural world was complete.  Whatever was beautiful and gentle in the manifold operations of the Divine Spirit in the world around him, he saw and felt.  To all that was horrible and ferocious, he was blind as a child in Paradise.  He did not notice the hawk sweeping upon the dove, the swallow darting upon the moth, nor the lizard lying in wait for the fly; or, if he did, he saw them only as he saw the shadows flitting across the sunny landscape.  His soul was like a garden full of light, life, perfume, color and the music of singing birds and whispering leaves.  Before his inward eye the familiar figures of his daily life passed and repassed, but among them was also a new one.  It was the figure that had arrested his attention and inspired him the night before.

For hours he followed the plow without the consciousness of fatigue, but at length he paused to rest the horses, who were beginning to pant with their hard labor.  He threw back his head, drew in deep inspirations of pure air, glanced about and felt the full tide of the simple joy of existence roll over him.  Life had never seemed sweeter than in those few moments in which he quaffed the brimming cup of youth and health which nature held to his lips.  Not a fear, not an apprehension of any danger crossed his soul.  His glances roved here and there, pausing a moment in their flight like hummingbirds, to sip the sweetness from some unusually beautiful cloud or tree or flower, when he suddenly caught sight of a curious equipage flying swiftly down the road at the other side of the field.  The spirited horses stopped.  A man rose from the seat, put his hands to his mouth like a trumpet, uttered a loud “hallo,” and beckoned.

David tied the reins to the plow handles and strode across the fresh furrows.  Vaulting the fence and leaping the brook which formed the boundary line of the farm, he ascended the bank and approached the carriage.  As he did so the occupants got out and came to meet him.  To his astonishment he saw the strangers whom he had noticed the night before.  The man advanced with a bold, free demeanor, the woman timidly and with downcast eyes.

“Good morning,” said the doctor.

David returned his greeting with the customary dignity of the Quakers.

“My name is Dr. Aesculapius.”

“Thee is welcome.”

“I was over to the m-m-meeting house last night, and heard your s-s-speech.  Didn’t understand a w-w-word, but saw that you c-c-can talk like a United States Senator.”