thunder DOES make the milk sour. And 'tis so splendid to SEE the
thunder bang."

"How do you see it, Budge?" I asked.

"Why, don't you know when the thunder bangs, and then you see an
awful bright place in the sky?--that's where the Lord's carriage
gives an awful pound, and makes little cracks through the floor of
heaven, an' we see right in. But what's the reason we can't ever
see anybody through the cracks, Uncle Harry?"

"I don't know--old fellow,--I guess it's because it isn't cracks
in heaven that look so bright,--it's a kind of fire that the Lord
makes up in the clouds. You'll know all about it when you get
bigger."

"Well, I'll feel awful sorry if 'tain't anything but fire. Do you
know that funny song my papa sings 'bout:--

"'Roarin' thunders, lightenin's blazes,
Shout the great Creator's praises?'"

I don't know zactly what it means, but I think it's kind o'
splendid, don't you?"

I DID know the old song; I had heard it in a Western camp-meeting,
when scarcely older than Budge, and it left upon my mind just the
effect it seemed to have done on his. I blessed his sympathetic
young heart, and snatched him into my arms. Instantly he became
all boy again.