The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1852-08-26

had been well used to work He was lately
come to the mill for though he had aptitude
for almost any kind Of employment he had no
fixed purpose no energy. and had been all his
life changing from one thing 20 another. SO.
though few had wrought more arduously or
with better will than he, there was seldom
more money in his purse than would fill his
| pipe for week, leaving trhe for the parish
priest and widow for Hartly had liberal, il
not a full hand and few men have heard more
earnest Goddess you's than he for their aims
givings. But alas! unless he should speedily
learn to keep in one straightforward path. the
chance of his becoming rich is only the slen-
derest possibility.
The middle night am writing of. he was
busiest of all-now here, now there-doing
many things in fact which seemed not to re-
quire to be done, as if he worked partly for
the love of work. Tie bore small lantern in
his hand, and in his sudden dashings hither
and thither the light was often extingushed
but, to great disadvantage, he wrought on in
the dark, singing ali the while, though the
rain battered dismally on the mill roof as
bithely AZ if "reddening Phebus lifted his
golden fire.
merry man, and one of courage, too was
the miller, Hartly, but his instability was his
misfortune.
And now, az he bore baskets of corn from
place to place, and emptied great sacks OF rye
and oats into bins he kept singing of good
land somewhere, where the meadows were
greener and the sunshine brighter, and where
all the inhabitants grew rich without labor
He seemed not to think of his song, for he kept
repeating it over and over, measuring wheat
aud corn the while, and sometimes cheering
the horses ON the wheel as though much de-
! pended on that nights work and he found it
pleasure as well as duty
The oldest OF the three was Hartly the most
sanguine and the most penness The while
he kept SO busily driving, the youngest, named
Ralph sat on grain measure near the open
door OF the mill, listening to the rain as it pat
tered on the dry leaves of the sycamore that a
| little way from the door struck its strong roots
straight into the ground, and stood up like a
column. 1t was closely neighbored by scrub
by beech, with gnarled convoutions at the base
lie was thinking of the Hamadryades, and
linking together fragments of old stories, and
now and then pushing back his yellow hair
that was heavy with moisture, to listen to the
soughing of the wind His cheeks were pale
and his eyes large and dark and melancholy
he was slight and bent, IA though all his life
he had looked upon the ground His cheek
rested on his hand, and his forehead shone like
glass as the light of the busy mans lantern
shone now and then upon it. He was young.
almost a youth, and like, Hartly, had been but
short time ut the mill
When he wrought it was not for the love OF
work, but that some wonderful physician had
told him that in the busy ways of men he
might find the lost light of health, and tread
down the grass that would else quickly spread
over his grave. But he strove languidly, and
seemed to love the pale phantoms that beckon
ed him to the grave. He had been a dreamer
from early youth, and now he only wore the
semblance without any of the power of man
hood
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