The record-union., 1896-09-27

craWled over the garden until 1t en-
croached even upon US sitting there;
until the old mans hair was half bur
nished silver and half dull lead.
Eagerly had 1 come to the inn, full of
enthusiasm at my search for my friend
Basil being come to an end; now, not
Wlthstanding. l lolled there in my chair
without word of inquiry, without the
desire to speak or to know, in lethargy
serene, and we'll content to sit with the
old clown in the silence till night should
come down and the twinkle of candles
in the windows of the inn should call us
to rest. Presently, however, came the
maid, carrying tray upon which was
spread my meal. She brought to my
knees low three-legged table and set
the tray thereon. The sight Of the brown
bread and the yellow cheese richly enli-
vened me, and when the maid, having
gone again to the house, returned with
| pint tankard of old ale, 1 almost
laughed aloud. l rose, and, with pref
ty bow to the maid and wink to the
landlord, took long pull at the stuff,
gazing over the frOth as / did SO at the
| weather cock upon the inn top, all OF
| glitter in the reddening sun. When re-
placed the tankard upon the table the
| maid had already tOttered a few steps
towards the house. / called loudly. The
sound of my voice seemed as sudden as
| clap of thunder in the quiet place.
mo, no. my DEAR" said I. You must
| give a tired traveller your pretty COM
pany and chat with him. There are
| some few questions l wish to put ye."
| She turned about with her right hand
| upon her bosom and her red hair falling
| in wisps upon her wrinkled forehead.
| She came very slowly and stood few
PAGES distant l slashed at the loaf with
excessive Zest
Poor SOUL" whimpered the old man.
"A right emo lassie was jamie, ruddy as
| winter apple; aye. full of trckins and
| jollity. Dear God. and a wisp, dear God,
| the graveyard for a, the graveyard
| for a."
But, SIR" said the maid, facing the
| sun, here it do seem wearisome long
| journey to the yard. Most of US be old
folks cen at 10, but in the yard not
enc under 80. I do miss me fayther's
farmyard. I look for the jangle Of bells
and the baa of the sheep. And my
fayther had a daw Here the day is al
ways noon, and the night la a-weary
in hour for the spirits to walk
Tut, tut, you want a holiday" said
l, chewing my bread and cheese, for 1
was very hungry. THE neighbOrs
should wake a clamor in this mossy
place, should rummage and drive away
the silence. Pom my word, you shall
take q walk with me this very sunset"
The old man smiled at his apple trees,
heavy with young fruit. Thou best
stranger for sure-naybours."
Then remembered with new surprise
| how barren and deserted was the high
road, how empty We're the fields and
how desolate the gardens.
THE lasse shall take a walk on my
| arm" said l, "and see that God made
the world"
Il would no. think that God might be
| so cruel" said the maid.
| jumped in my chair. will you drink
with me. sir?" said I with pomposity to
the landlord, but 1 could not otherwise
than stare at the red-haired meager
girl in the sunlight
Nay" said the old man. 'I'll not
drink with thee. Jollity emo for the
morn, gaudy dizened jollity, but for
what is t end o TIA rainbow in Sleep
ing time. And then the going down of
the red sun. Sure we play WI our TOYS.
| and lean wisdom clucks i the throat
and calls 'em bubbles. Mebbe Gods l.
the bubble. Who knows? He drives us
all into the pen. The day be late The
| dew falls very heavy at tines
| l was sick of speech and set to my
victuals with poor stimulation Of relish.
When l had finished my joyless meal /
spoke again. Try as 1 would, my voice
was bereft of it's ring; WEAKNESS was
again stealing upon me. Il have come
long distance to find a friend Men
have pointed me out this village, have
told me that here l shall find him.
| Pray, sir, do you know my friend, Mr.
| Basil Gray?"
The old man never turned his palsed
head. He peered at me vacantly out
OF the corners of his feeble eyes Il
know none O. the name" said he.
HE lives in the Grey House." said
| the maid-"an old man VII beautiful
silver hair. / know him, sir in the
Grey House, where the owls hoot O.
nights, and ivy bursts in at the win
dows"
Silver hair!" said I, in dismay. His
hair is black and his voice loud and
full. Good people, you live in this re-
mote nook out of the world, and you
lock at all things through an old mans
spectacles. Silver hair. Now, my
pretty maid, you shall show me the
house. / am tired of being alone
Fancy this, I have not friend alive
but Mr.. Gray. In the midst of a hale
hearty life to be alone Fancy it.
Now, little maid, come away"
l thought the old man smiled family
at something in my speech. I cannot
say. / spoke very tenderly for a sud
der pity and a new sympathy had come
into me for the frail child Perhaps
sCme day l shall need the like. thought
l. So | put my arm round her waist
and we went together into the house
When we reached the steep steps I saw
upon the topmost a little child This
pleased me greatly. And whom does
this mite this flower maiden belong
top said 1. Now, little one. come
and play with me. Many years have
gone by since 1 was a little child Come
along. Put on the bonnet and we will
gather pretty poses and weave daisy
chains. Dear me, it seems that my
mother taught me but yesterday"
I talked like pantaloon The little
child climbed up and stood in the door
way, it's tiny thin finger in it's mouth.
and it's round gray eyes looking into
my eyes and looking out at something
far away, something which seemed to
catch my breath, to lay an lev finger
upon my heart.
Il am tho tired lisped the little
creature; land mummy thayth the
pothieth II die in my not hands,
l said never a word, but still with
my arm round the maids waist, for
she seemed to have become an un-
wontsd comfort to me, we passed into