And what do I care for Jane, let her speak of you well

or ill;

But marry me out of hand: we too shall be happy

still.'

XIV.

'Marry you, Willy!' said I, 'but I needs must speak my mind,

And I fear you'll listen to tales, be jealous and hard and unkind.'

But he turn'd and claspt me in his arms, and answer'd, 'No, love, no;'

Seventy years ago, my darling, seventy years ago.

XV.

So Willy and I were wedded: I wore a lilac gown; And the ringers rang with a will, and he gave the

ringers a crown.

But the first that ever I bare was dead before he was born, Shadow and shine is life, little Annie, flower and thorn.

XVI.

That was the first time, too, that ever I thought of death. There lay the sweet little body that never had drawn

a breath.

I had not wept, little Anne, not since I had been a wife; But I wept like a child that day, for the babe had

fought for his life.

XVII.

His dear little face was troubled, as if with anger or pain :

I look'd at the still little body - his trouble had all been in vain.

For Willy I cannot weep, I shall see him another

morn:

But I wept like a child for the child that was dead before he was born.

XVIII.

But he cheer'd me, my good man, for he seldom said

me nay:

Kind, like a man, was he; like a man, too, would have his way:

Never jealous - not he: we had many a happy year; And he died, and I could not weep - my own time

seem'd so near.

ΧΙΧ.

But I wish'd it had been God's will that I, too, then could have died :

I began to be tired a little, and fain had slept at his side.

And that was ten years back, or more, if I don't forget: But as to the children, Annie, they 're all about me yet.

xx.

Pattering over the boards, my Annie who left me at two, Patter she goes, my own little Annie, an Annie like you: Pattering over the boards, she comes and goes at her

will,

While Harry is in the five-acre and Charlie ploughing the hill.

ΧΧΙ.

And Harry and Charlie, I hear them too - they sing to their team:

Often they come to the door in a pleasant kind of a dream.

They come and sit by my chair, they hover about my

bed

I am not always certain if they be alive or dead.

ΧΧΙΙ.

And yet I know for a truth, there's none of them left alive;

For Harry went at sixty, your father at sixty-five:
And Willy, my eldest born, at nigh threescore and ten;
I knew them all as babies, and now they 're elderly

men.

XXIII.

For mine is a time of peace, it is not often I grieve;
I am oftener sitting at home in my father's farm at

eve:

And the neighbors come and laugh and gossip, and so do I;

I find myself often laughing at things that have long gone by.

XXIV.

To be sure the preacher says, our sins should make us sad:

But mine is a time of peace, and there is Grace to be had;

And God, not man, is the Judge of us all when life shall cease;

And in this Book, little Annie, the message is one of Peace.

XXV.

And age is a time of peace, so it be free from pain, And happy has been my life; but I would not live it I seem to be tired a little, that's all, and long for rest; Only at your age, Annie, I could have wept with the

best.

XXVI.

So Willy has gone, my beauty, my eldest-born, my flower;

But how can I weep for Willy, he has but gone for an hour,

Gone for a minute, my son, from this room into the

next;

I, too, shall go in a minute. What time have I to be vext?

XXVII.

And Willy's wife has written, she never was over-wise. Get me my glasses, Annie: thank God that I keep my

eyes.

There is but a trifle left you, when I shall have past

away.

But stay with the old woman now: you cannot have long to stay.

NORTHERN FARMER.

OLD STYLE.

I.

W

HEER 'asta beän saw long and meä liggin' 'ere

aloän?

Noorse ? thoort nowt o' a noorse: whoy, doctor's abeän an' agoän :

Says that I moänt 'a naw moor yaäle: but I beänt a

fool:

Git ma my yaäle, for I beänt a-gooin' to break my rule.

II.

Doctors, they knaws nowt, for a says what's nawways

true :

Naw soort o' koind o' use to saäy the things that a do.
I 've 'ed my point o' yaäle ivry noight sin' I beän 'ere,
An' I've 'ed my quart ivry market-noight for foorty

year.

III.

Parson's a beän loikewoise, an' a sittin 'ere o' my bed. 'The amoighty's a taäkin o' you to 'issen, my friend,'

'a said,

An' a towd ma my sins, an's toithe were due, an' I gied it in hond;

I done my duty by un, as I 'a done by the lond.

IV.

Larn'd a ma' beä. I reckons I 'annot sa mooch to larn. But a cost oop, thot a did, 'boot Bessy Marris's barn. Thof a knaws I hallus voäted wi' Squoire an' choorch an staäte,

An' i' the woost o' toimes I wur niver agin the raäte.

V.

An' I hallus comed to 's choorch afoor my Sally wur deäd,

An' 'eerd un a bummin' awaäy loike a buzzard-clock *