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-thegreateventofhislife，andashelookedattheothersherealised，youngashewas，thatnoneofthemfeltitashedid，andtherealisationgavehimastrangefeeling，halfofgratification，halfofloneliness。Hestoodthere，alittleapartfromtherestofthem，clutchinghisbox，andholdingontoHamlet’slead，feelingsodeeplyexcitedthathisheartwaslikeahard，coldstonejumpingupanddown，bump，bump，behindhiswaistcoat。
“That’sJim！That’sJim！“hewhisperedinahoarsegasptoMissJones。
“Nowmind，dear，“sheansweredinherkindly，gropingvoice。“You’llbefallingontotherailifyouaren’tcareful。“
ItstrangelyannoyedhimthathisfathershouldgreetJimjustasthoughheweresomequiteordinarymaninPolchester。HehimselfwaitedinastrangeagitationuntilJimshouldnoticehim。Themanturnedatlast，bendingdowntopickupabox，sawhim，touchedhiscap，smilingalong，crookedsmile，andJeremyblushedwithhappiness。Itwasthefirstrecognitionthathehadhadfromthefarm，anditpleasedhim。
Theyallmoveduptothehigherroad。UncleSamuel，comingonatthelast，inadreamy，moodyway，stoppingonthebridgetolookdownattherailway-line，andthensuddenlysayingaloud：
“Theirmindsarefullofthenumberofboxes，andwhetherthey’llgettea，andwho’stopaywhat，and’HowbadlyIwantawash！’andalreadyto-morrowthey’llbewonderingwhethertheyoughn’ttobegettinghometoPolchester。Allsham！Allsham！“
Hewasn’tspeakingtoJeremy，buttohimself。However，Jeremysaid：
“DidyouseeJim，Uncle？“
“No，Ididnot。“
“He’sfatterandredderthanlastyear。“
“Ishouldn’twonder。“
“Areyougoingtopaint，Uncle？“
“Iam。“
“What？“
“Oh，justlinesandcircles。“
Jeremypaused，standingforamoment，andlookedpuzzled。Thenhesaid：
“Doyoulikebabies，UncleSamuel？“
“No，Idonot。“
“NotevenBarbara？“
“No——certainlynot。“
“Idon’t，too……Whydon’tyoupaintcowsandhouseslikeotherpeople，UncleSamuel？IheardFathersayoncethatheneverknewwhatyourpicturesmeant。“
“That’swhyIpaintthem。“
“Why？“
“Sothatyourfathershan’tknowwhattheymean。“
Althoughhedidnotunderstandthisanymorethanheunderstoodhisuncle，Jeremywaspleasedwiththisconversation。Ithadbeen，somehow，intonewiththeplaceandthehour；ithadconveyedtohiminsomestrangefashionthathisunclecaredforallofthisratherashehimselfcared。Oh！helikedUncleSamuel！
HehadhopedthathemighthavesatontheboxnexttoJim，butthatplacewasnowpiledupwithluggage，sohewassqueezedinbetweenhismotherandMrs。Patcham，withHamlet，veryuncomfortable，betweenhisknees。Theydroveoffdownthehighroad，thehotsmellofthegrasscametohisnostrils，thesunblazeddownuponthem，turningthepathbeforethemintogleamingsteel，andthehighGlebeshirehedges，coveredwiththinpowder，roseonbothsidesabovethem，breakingonceandagaintoshowthefoldingvalleys，andthefaintbluehills，andtheheavy，darktreeswiththeirthick，blackshadowsstainingthegrass。
Thecowswereclusteredsleepingwherevertheycouldfindshadow；
faintlysheep-bellstinkledinthedistance，andnowandthenastream，likebrokenglass，floated，cried，andwasgone。Theydroveintoadarkwood，andthesunscatteredthroughthetreesinpiecesofgoldandshadowystreamsofarrowedlight。Thebirdsweresinging，andwheneverthehoofsofthehorsesandthewheelsturnedontosoftmossorlinesofgrass，inthesuddensilencetheairwasfilledwithbirds’voices。Thatprovedthatitmustnowbeturningtotheeveningoftheday；thesunwasnotveryhighabovethewood，andtheseaofbluewasinvadedbyahighgalleonofcloudthathoveredwithspreadingsail，catchinggoldintoitsheartasitmoved。Theyleftthewood，crossedtheRiverGarth，andcameoutontomoorland。Here，forthefirsttime，Jeremysmeltthesea；thel
