We left her, happy each in each, and | Edith had welcomed my short wooing of then, As tho' the happiness of each in each Were not enough, must fain have tor rents, lakes, Hills, the great things of Nature and the fair, To lift us as it were from commonplace, And help us to our joy. Better have So far that no caress could win my wife Back to that passionate answer of full heart I had from her at first. Not that her love, Tho' scarce as great as Edith's power of love, Had lessen'd, but the mother's garrulous wail Forever woke the unhappy Past again, Till that dead bridesmaid, meant to be my bride, Put forth cold hands between us, and I fear'd The very fountains of her life were chill'd ; So took her thence, and brought her here, and here She bore a child, whom reverently we call'd I bore them both divided as I am From either by the stillness of the grave I know not which of these I love the best. But you eyes Are traitors to her; our quick EvelynThe merrier, prettier, wittier, as they talk, love Edith; and her own true Sit thysen down fur a bit: hev a glass o' cowslip wine! I like the owd Squire an' 'is gells as thaw they was gells o' mine, Fur then we was all es one, the Squire an' 'is darters an' me, Hall but Miss Annie, the heldest, I niver not took to she: But Nelly, the last of the cletch,2 I liked 'er the fust on 'em all, Fur hoffens we talkt o' my darter es died o' the fever at fall: An' I thowt 'twur the will o' the Lord, but Miss Annie she said it wur draäins, Fur she hed n't naw coomfut in 'er, an' arn'd naw thanks fur 'er paäins. Eh! thebbe all wi' the Lord my childer, I han't gotten none! Sa new Squire 's coom'd wi' 'is taäil in 'is 'and, 'an owd Squire's gone. III. Fur 'staäte be i' taäil, my lass: tha dosn' knaw what that be? But I knaws the law, I does, for the lawyer ha towd it me. 1 See note to "Northern Cobbler," page 639. 2 A brood of chickens. Fur 'atween is readin' an' writin' 'e snifft Fur I finds es I be that i' debt, es I 'oäps up a box in a daäy, An' 'e niver runn'd arter the fox, nor arter the birds wi' 'is gun, An' e' niver not shot one 'are, but 'e leaved it to Charlie 'is son, An' 'e niver not fish'd 'is awn ponds, but Charlie 'e cotch'd the pike, Fur 'e warn't not burn to the land, an' 'e did n't take kind to it like; But I ears es 'e'd gie fur a howry book thutty pound an' moor, 1 owd An' 'e'd wrote an owd book, his awn sen, sa I knaw'd es 'e'd coom to be poor; An' 'e gied I be fear'd fur to tell tha 'ow much fur an owd scratted stoän, An' 'e digg'd up a loomp i' the land an' 'e got a brown pot an' a boän, An' 'e bowt owd money, es would n't goä, wi' good gowd o' the Queen, An' 'e bowt little statutes all-naäkt an' which was a shaäme to be seen; But 'e niver looökt ower a bill, nor 'e niver not seed to owt, An' 'e niver knawd nowt but boooks, an' booöks, as thou knaws, beänt nowt. VIII. But owd Squire's laädy es long es she lived she kep' 'em all clear, Thaw es long es she lived I niver hed none of 'er darters 'ere; But arter she died we was all es one, the childer an' me, An' sarvints runn'd in an' out, an' offens we hed 'em to tea. Lawk! 'ow I laugh'd when the lasses 'ud talk o' their Missis's waäys, An' the Missisis talk'd o' the lasses. I'll tell tha some o' these daäys. Hoänly Miss Annie were saw stuck oop, like 'er mother afoor 'Er an' 'er blessed darter derken'd my door. IX. they niver An' Squire 'e smiled an' 'e smiled till 'e'd gotten a fright at last, An' 'e calls fur 'is son, fur the 'turney's letters they foller'd sa fast; But Squire wur afear'd o' 'is son, an' 'e says to 'im, meek as a mouse, "Lad, thou mun cut off thy taäil, or the gells 'ull goä to the 'Ouse, 1 Filthy. es thou 'Il 'elp me a bit, An' if thou 'll 'gree to cut off thy taäil I may saäve mysen yit." Thou's coom'd oop by the beck; and a thurn be a-grawin' theer, I niver ha seed it sa white wi' the Maäy es I see'd it to-yearTheerabouts Charlie joompt - and it gied me a scare tother night, Fur I thowt it wur Charlie's ghoäst i' the derk, fur it looökt sa white. "Billy," says 'e, "hev a joomp!"-thaw the banks o' the beck be sa high, Fur he ca'd 'is 'erse Billy-rough-un, thaw niver a hair wur awry; But Billy fell bakkuds o' Charlie, an' So Charlie 'e brok 'is neck, theer wur a hend o' the tail, fur 'e lost 'is taäil i' the beck. XIV. Sa 'is taäil wur lost an' 'is booöks wur gone an' 'is boy wur dead, An' Squire 'e smiled an' 'e smiled, but 'e | niver not lift oop 'is eäd: Hallus a soft un Squire! an' 'e smiled, fur 'e hed n't naw friend, Sa feyther an' son was buried togither, an' this wur the hend. XV. An' Parson as hes n't the call, nor the but hes the pride, mooney, 'E reäds of a sewer an' sartan 'oap o' the tother side; But I beänt that sewer es the Lord, howsiver they praäy'd an praäy'd, Lets them inter 'eaven eäsy es leaves their debts to be paäid. Siver the mou'ds rattled down upo' poor owd Squire i' the wood, An' I cried along wi' the gells, fur they weänt niver coom to naw good. XVI. Fur Molly the youngest she walkt awaäy wi' a hofficer lad, An' nawbody 'eärd on 'er sin, sa o' coorse she be gone to the bad! 1 An' Lucy wur laäme o' one leg, sweet'arts she never 'ed noneStraänge an' unheppen 1 Miss Lucy! we naämed her "Dot an' gaw one!" An' Hetty wur weak i' the hattics, wi'out ony harm i' the legs, An' the fever 'ed baäked Jinny's 'eäd as bald as one o' them heggs, An' Nelly wur up fro' the craädle as big i' the mouth as a cow, An' saw she mun hammergrate,2 lass, or she weänt git a maäte onyhow! Fur I'd ha done owt fur the Squire an' 'is gells es belong'd to the land; Boooks, es I said afoor, thebbe neyther 'ere nor theer! But I sarved 'em wi' butter an' heggs fur huppuds o' twenty year. XVIII. An' they hallus paäid what I hax'd, sa I hallus deel'd wi' the Hall, An' they knaw'd what butter wur, an' they knaw'd what a hegg wur an' all; Hugger-mugger they lived, but they was n't that easy to please, Till I gied 'em Hinjian curn, an' they laäid big heggs es tha seeas; An' I niver puts saame i' my butter, they does it at Willis's farm, Taäste another drop o' the wine — tweänt do tha naw harm. XIX. Sa new Squire's coom'd wi' 'is taäil in 'is 'and, an' owd Squire 's gone; I heard 'im a roomlin' by, but arter my nightcap wur on; So I han't clapt eyes on 'im yit, fur he coom'd last night sa laätePluksh!!! the hens i' the peas! why did n't tha hesp the gaäte? IN THE CHILDREN'S HOSPITAL. EMMIE. I. An' es fur Miss Annie es call'd me afoor OUR doctor had call'd in another, I never my awn foälks to my faäce "A hignorant village wife as 'ud hev to be larn'd her awn plaäce," Hes fur Miss Hannie the heldest hes now be a-grawin' sa howd, I knaws that mooch o' sheä, es it beänt not fit to be towd! XVII. Sa I did n't not taäke it kindly ov owd Miss Annie to saäy Es I should be talkin' ageän em, es soon es they went waäy, Fur, lawks! 'ow I cried when they went, an' our Nelly she gied me 'er 'and, 1 Ungainly, awkward. 2 Emigrate. had seen him before, But he sent a chill to my heart when I saw him come in at the door, Fresh from the surgery-schools of France and of other landsHarsh red hair, big voice, big chest, big merciless hands! Wonderful cures he had done, O yes, but they said too of him He was happier using the knife than in trying to save the limb, And that I can well believe, for he look'd so coarse and so red, I could think he was one of those who would break their jests on the dead, 3 Lard. A cry accompanied by a clapping of hands to scare trespassing fowl And mangle the living dog that had loved | Nay you remember our Emmie; you used him and fawn'd at his knee Drench'd with the hellish oorali ever such things should be! II. that Here was a boy I am sure that some of our children would die But for the voice of Love, and the smile, And he handled him gently enough; but his voice and his face were not kind, And it was but a hopeless case, he had seen it and made up his mind, The lad will need little more of your care." "All the more need," I told him, "to seek the Lord Jesus in prayer; They are all his children here, and I pray for them all as my own: But he turn'd to me, "Ay, good woman, can prayer set a broken bone? Then he mutter'd half to himself, but I know that I heard him say but the good Lord Jesus has had his day,' And he said to me roughly, "All very well to send her the flowers; How she would smile at 'em, play with 'em, talk to 'em hours after hours! They that can wander at will where the works of the Lord are reveal'd Little guess what joy can be got from a cowslip out of the field; Flowers to these "spirits in prison are all they can know of the spring, They freshen and sweeten the wards like the waft of an Angel's wing; And she lay with a flower in one hand and so quiet, our doctor Nurse, I must do it to-morrow; she 'll said "Poor little dear, never live thro' it, I fear." I walk'd with our kindly old doctor as far as the head of the stair, Then I return'd to the ward; the child did n't see I was there. VI. Never since I was nurse, had I been so Emmie had heard him. Softly she call'd I should cry to the dear Lord Jesus to 66 Emmie, you put out your arms, and Hers was the prettiest prattle, it often The moved me to tears, Hers was the gratefullest heart I have found in a child of her years – It 's |