Passed quickly through the mind of Isabel,
And her face brightened. The old man was glad,

And thus resumed,-"Well, Isabel, this scheme

These two days has been meat and drink to me.
Far more than we have lost is left us yet.
We have enough. I wish, indeed, that I
Were younger; but this hope is a good hope.
Make ready Luke's best garments, of the best
Buy for him more, and let us send him forth
To-morrow, or the next day, or to-night-
If he could go, the boy should go to-night."
Here Michael ceased, and to the fields went forth
With a light heart. The housewife for five days
Was restless morn and night, and all day long
Wrought on with her best fingers to prepare
Things needful for the journey of her son.
But Isabel was glad when Sunday came

To stop her in her work; for, when she lay
By Michael's side, she through the two last nights
Heard him, how he was troubled in his sleep;
And when they rose at morning she could see
That all his hopes were gone. That day at noon
She said to Luke, while they two by themselves
Were sitting 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 answer with a jocund voice;
And Isabel, when she had told her fears,
Recovered heart. That evening her best fare
Did she bring forth, and all together sat
Like happy people round a Christmas fire.

Next morning Isabel resumed her work; And all the ensuing week the house appeared

As cheerful as a grove in spring. At length
The expected letter from their kinsman came,
With kind assurances that he would do

His utmost for the welfare of the boy;
To which requests were added, that forthwith
He might be sent to him.

The letter was read over.

Ten times or more

Isabel

Went forth to show it to the neighbours round;

Nor was there at that time on English land
A prouder heart than Luke's. When Isabel
Had to her house returned, the 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 surely be forgotten. But at length
She gave consent, and Michael was at ease.

Near the tumultuous brook of Greenhead Ghyll,

In that deep valley, Michael had designed

To build a sheep-fold; and, before he heard
The tidings of his melancholy loss,

For this same purpose he had gathered up
A heap of stones, which by the streamlet's edge.
Lay thrown together, ready for the work.

With Luke that evening thitherward he walked;
And soon as they had reached the place he stopped,
And thus the old man spake to him,-"My son,
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 hast been my daily joy.
I will relate to thee some little part

Of our two histories: 't will do thee good
When thou art from me, even if I should speak
Of things thou canst not know of. After thou
First cam❜st into the world,—as it befalls
To new-born infants-thou didst sleep away
Two days, and blessings from thy father's tongue
Then fell upon thee. Day by day passed on,
And still I loved thee with increasing love.
Never to living ear came sweeter sounds
Than when I heard thee by our own fireside
First uttering, without words, a natural tune;
When thou, a feeding babe, didst in thy joy
Sing at thy mother's breast. Month followed month,
And in the open fields my life was passed,
And on the mountains, else I think that thou
Hadst been brought up upon thy father's knees.
But we were playmates, Luke: among these hills,
As well thou know'st, 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 sobbed aloud. The old man grasped his hand,
And said, "Nay, do not take it so I see

-

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 sleep together: here they lived,
As all their forefathers had done; and when