But Ifabel was glad when Sunday came
To stop her in her work: for, when the lay
By Michael's fide, fhe through the two last nights
Heard him, how he was troubled in his fleep:
And when they rofe at morning she could fee
That all his hopes were gone. That day at noon
She faid to Luke, while they two by themselves
Were fitting at the door, "Thou must not go :
We have no other child but thee to lose,
None to remember-do not go away,
For if thou leave thy father he will die."
The youth made anfwer with a jocund voice;
And Ifabel, when she had told her fears,
Recovered heart. That evening her beft fare
Did he bring forth, and all together fat
Like happy people round a Christmas fire.

Next morning Ifabel refumed her work;
And all the enfuing week the house appeared
As cheerful as a grove in Spring: at length
The expected letter from their kinsman came,
With kind affurances that he would do.
His utmost for the welfare of the boy;

To which requests were added that forthwith
He might be fent to him. Ten times or more
The letter was read over; Ifabel

Went forth to show it to the neighbours round;

Nor was there at that time on English land

A prouder heart than Luke's.

Had to her house returned, the

When Ifabel

old man said,

"He shall depart to-morrow." To this word
The housewife answered, talking much of things
Which, if at such short notice he should go,
Would furely be forgotten. But at length
She gave confent, and Michael was at ease.

Near the tumultuous brook of Greenhead Ghyll,

In that deep valley, Michael had defigned

To build a fheepfold; and, before he heard

The tidings of his melancholy loss,

For this fame purpose he had gathered up

A heap of ftones, which by the streamlet's edge
Lay thrown together, ready for the work.

With Luke that evening thitherward he walked ;
And foon as they had reached the place, he ftopped,
And thus the old man fpake to him :-" My fon,
To-morrow thou wilt leave me with full heart

I look upon thee, for thou art the same
That wert a promise to me ere thy birth,
And all thy life haft been my daily joy.
I will relate to thee fome little part

Of our two hiftories; 't will do thee good

When thou art from me, even if I should speak
Of things thou canst not know of.

After thou

Firft cam'ft into the world-as oft befals
To new-born infants-thou didst fleep away
Two days, and bleffings from thy father's tongue
Then fell upon thee. Day by day paffed on,
And ftill I loved thee with increafing love.
Never to living ear came fweeter founds
Than when I heard thee by our own firefide
Firft uttering, without words, a natural tune;
When thou, a feeding babe, didst in thy joy
Sing at thy mother's breaft. Month followed month,
And in the open fields my life was paffed,
And on the mountains, elfe I think that thou
Hadft been brought up upon thy father's knees.
But we were playmates, Luke: among these hills,
As well thou know'ft, in us the old and young
Have played together, nor with me didst thou
Lack any pleasure which a boy can know.”
Luke had a manly heart: but at these words
He fobbed aloud. The old man grasped his hand,

And faid, "Nay, do not take it fo—I fee

That these are things of which I need not speak.
-Even to the utmost I have been to thee

A kind and a good father: and herein

I but repay a gift which I myself

Received at other's hands; for, though now old
Beyond the common life of man, I still
Remember them who loved me in my youth.

Both of them fleep together: here they lived,
As all their forefathers had done; and when

At length their time was come, they were not loth
To give their bodies to the family mould.

I wished that thou shouldst live the life they lived.
But 'tis a long time to look back, my fon,
And fee fo little gain from fixty years.

These fields were burthened when they came to me ;
Till I was forty years of age, not more

Than half of my inheritance was mine.

I toiled and toiled; God bleffed me in my work,
And till these three weeks paft the land was free.
-It looks as if it never could endure

Another mafter. Heaven forgive me, Luke,

If I judge ill for thee, but it seems good

That thou fhouldft go.'

At this the old man paused;

Then pointing to the ftones near which they stood, Thus, after a fhort filence, he refumed:

"This was a work for us; and now, my son,
It is a work for me. But, lay one ftone-

Here, lay it for me, Luke, with thine own hands.
Nay, boy, be of good hope ;--we both may live
To fee a better day. At eighty-four

I ftill am ftrong and ftout ;-do thou thy part,
I will do mine.-I will begin again

With many tasks that were refigned to thee;
Up to the heights, and in among the ftorms,
Will I without thee go again, and do

All works which I was wont to do alone,
Before I knew thy face.-Heaven blefs thee, boy!
Thy heart these two weeks has been beating fast
With many hopes; it fhould be fo―yes—yes—
I knew that thou couldst never have a wish

To leave me, Luke: thou haft been bound to me
Only by links of love: when thou art gone,
What will be left to us! But, I forget
My purposes. Lay now the corner-stone,
As I requested; and hereafter, Luke,
When thou art gone away, should evil men
Be thy companions, think of me, my sʊn,
And of this moment; hither turn thy thoughts,
And God will strengthen thee: amid all fear
And all temptation, Luke, I pray that thou
Mayft bear in mind the life thy fathers lived,
Who, being innocent, did for that cause
Beftir them in good deeds. Now, fare thee well —
When thou return'ft, thou in this place wilt fee

A work which is not here: a covenant
"I' will be between us- -But, whatever fate
Befal thee, I fhall love thee to the last,

And bear thy memory with me to the grave."