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Then downward from the steep hill's edge; "What ails you, child ?" She sobbed, They track the footmarks small;

“Look here!" And through the broken hawthorn hedge, I saw it in the wheel entangled, And by the long stone-wall;

A weather-beaten rag as e'er

From any garden scarecro dangled. And then an open field they crossed: The marks were still the same;

'Twas twisted between nave and spoke , They tracked them on, nor ever lost; Her help she lent, and with good heed And to the bridge they came.

Together we released the cloak ;

A wretched, wretched rag mdeed !
They followed from the snowy bank
Those footmarks, one by one,

" And whither are you going, child, Into the middle of the plank;

To-night along these lonesome ways?": And further there were none!

"To Durham," answered she, half wild

“ Then come with me into the chaise." Yet some maintain that to this day She is a living child;

She sate like one past all relief ; That you may see sweet Lucy Gray

Sob after sob she forth did send Upon the lonesome wild.

In wretchedness, as if her grief

Could never, never have an end. O'er rough and smooth she trips along,

• My child, in Durham do you dwell ?** And never looks behind;

She checked herself in her distress, And sings a solitary song

And said, “My name is Alice Feli; That whistles in the wind.

I'm fatherless and motherless.

And I to Durham, sir, belong.". ALICE FELL; OR, POVERTY.

And then, as if the thought would choke

Her very heart, her grief grew strong i THE post-boy drove with fierce career,

And all was for her tattered cloak. For threatening clouds the moon had drowned ;

The chaise drove on ; our journey's end When suddenly I seemed to hear

Was nigh ; and sitting by my side, A moan, a lamentable sound.

As if she had lost her only friend,

She wept, nor would be pacified.
As if the wind blew many ways,
I heard the sound-and more and more : Up to the tavern door we post :
It seemed to follow with the chaise, of Alice and her grief I told ;
And still I heard it as before.

And I gave money to the host,

To buy a new cloak for the old.
At length I to the boy called out ;
He stopped his horses at the word; " And let it be of duffil gray,
But neither cry, nor voice, nor shout, As warm a cloak as man can sell !"
Nor aught else like it, could be heard. Proud creature was she the next day,

The little orphan, Alice Fell !
The boy then smacked his whip, and fast
The horses scampered through the rain ;
And soon I heard upon the blast
The voice, and bade him halt again.

Said I, alighung on the ground,

-A SIMPLE child, " What can it be, this piteous moan ?" That lightly draws its breath, And there a little girl I found,

And feels its life in every limb, Sitting behind the chaise, alone.

What should it know of death? "My cloak !" the word was last and first, I met a little cottage girl: And loud and bitterly she wept,

She was eight years old, she said; As if her very heart would burst ;

Her hair was thick with many a curl And down from oft her seat she leapt. That clustered round her head.

My boy was by my side, so slim

And there they built up, without mortar And graceful in his rustic dress!

or lime, And, as we talked, I questioned him, A man on the peak of the crag. In very idleness.

They built him of stones gathered up as "Now tell me, had you rather be,"

they lay; I said, and took him by the arm,

They built him and christened him all in "On Kilve's smooth shore, by the green one day, Or here at Liswyn farm?" (sea, An urchin both vigorous and hale; In careless mood he looked at me,

And so without scruple they called him While still I held him by the arm,

Ralph Jones.

[his bones: And said, " At Kilve I'd rather be

Now Ralph is renowned for the length of Than here at Liswyn farm.".

The Magog of Legberthwaite dale. “Now, little Edward, say why so; Just half a week after, the wind sallied My little Edward, tell me why."


(north "I cannot tell, I do not know."

And, in anger or merriment, out of the "Why, this is strange," said I.

Coming on with a terrible pother,

From the peak of the crag blew the giant "For here are woods and green - hills away.

next day warm:

And what did these school-boys?—The very There surely must some reason be They went and they built up another. Why you would change sweet Liswyn For Kilve by the green sea.' (farm Some little I've seen of blind boisterous

works At this my boy hung down his head,


By Christian disturbers more savage than He blushed with shame, nor made reply;

Spirits busy to do and undo: And five times to the child I said,

At remembrance whereof my blood some"Why, Edward, tell me why?"

times will flag;

[crag, His head he raised—there was in sight,

Then, light-hearted boys, to the top of the It caught his eye; he saw it plain

And I'll build up a giant with you. Upon the housetop, glittering bright, A broad and gilded vane. Then did the boy his tongue unlock; THE PET-LAMB: A PASTORAL And thus to me he made reply, "At Kilve there was no weathercock,

The dew was falling fast, the stars began And that's the reason why."

to blink;

(ture, drink :"

I heard a voice; it said, "Drink, pretty creaO dearest, dearest boy! my heart

And, looking o'er the hedge, before me I For better lore would seldom yearn,


(at its side. Could I but teach the hundredth part A snow-white mountain lamb with a maiden Of what from thee I learn.

No other sheep was near, the lamb was all alone,


And by a slender cord was tethered to a RURAL ARCHITECTURE. With one knee on the grass did the little

maiden kneel,

[evening meal. THERE's George Fisher, Charles Fleming, While to that mountain lamb she gave its

and Reginald Shore, Three rosy-cheeked school-boys, the high- The lamb, while from her hand he thus his est not more

supper took, Than the height of a counsellor's bag, Seemed to feast with head and ears; and To the top of Great How* were once his tail with pleasure shook. tempted to climb;

the western side of the beautiful dale of Legber:: Great How is a single and conspicuous hill, thwaite, along the high road between Keswick which rises towards the foot of Thirlmere, on and Ambleside.

“Drink, pretty creature, drink," she said “ Thou know'st that twice a day I have in such a tone

(own. brought thee in this can That I almost received her heart inio my Fresh water from the brook, as clear as

ever ran;

(wet with dew, 'Twas little Barbara Lewthwaite, a child of And twice in the day, when the ground is beauty rare !

[lovely pair. I bring thee draughts of milk, warm milk I watched them with delight, they were a it is and new. Now with her empty can the maiden turned "Thy limbs will shortly be twice as stout away;

(did she stay. as they are now, (in the plough; But ere ten yards were gone her footsteps Then I'll yoke thee to my cart like a pony

My playmate thou shalt be; and when the Towards the lamb she looked; and from wind is cold

(be thy fold, that shady place

[her face: Our hearth shall be thy bed, our house shall I unobserved could see the workings of Il nature to her tongue could measured " It will not, will not rest!--poor creature, numbers bring,

can it be

ing so in thee? Thus, thought I, to her lamb that little That 'tis thy mother's heart which is workmaid might sing:

Things that I know not of belike to thee

are dear, [neither see nor hear. What ails thee, young one? what? Why And dreams of things which thou canst pull so at thy cord? {and board?

Alas, the mountain tops that look so Is it not well with thee? well both for bed

green and fair! Thy plot of grass is soft, and green as grass I've heard of fearful winds and darkness can be;

(aileth thee?

that come there; (and all play, Rest, little young one, rest; what is't that the little brooks that seem all pastime

When they are angry, roar like lions for " What is it thou would'st seek? What is

their prey. wanting to thy heart?

Here thou need'st not dread the raven in Thy limbs, are they not strong? And beautiful thou art:

the sky;

[is hard by.

-our cottage This grass is tender grass; these flowers Night and day thou art safe, they have no peers;

(thy ears! Why bleat so after me? Why pull so at And that green corn all day is rustling in

thy chain ?

(thee again!"

Sleep-and at break of day I will come to "If the sun be shining hot, do but stretch As homeward through the lane I went

thy woollen chain, [canst gain; with lazy feet, This beech is standing by, its covert thou This song to myself did I oftentimes repeat; For rain and mountain storms? the like And it seemed, as I retraced the ballad thou need'st not fear

line by line,

(of it was mine. The rain and storm are things that scarcely That but half of it was hers, and one half can come here.

Again, and once again, did I repeat the "Rest, little young one, rest; thou hast song:

(damsel must belong, forgot the day

[far away,

“ Nay," said 1, more than half to the When my father found thee first in places For she looked with such a look, and she Man: flocks were on the hills, but thou spake with such a tone, (my own.' wert owned by none,

That I almost received her heart into And thy mother from thy side for evermore was gone.

THE IDLE SHEPHERD-BOYS; OR, " He took thee in his arms, and in pity

DUNGEON-GHYLL-FORCE." brought thee home. A blessed day for theel then whither

A PASTORAL. wouldst thou roam ?

The valley rings with mirth and joy; A faithful nurse thou hast; the dam that Among the hills the echoes play did thee yean

[have been Upon the mountain tops no kinder could • Ghyll, in the dialect of Cumberland and

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