ciii. v. 9.—"For He will not always chide, neither will He keep His anger for ever."
I see a long, low, wooden house, with room enough and to spare. The old primeval trees are felled and gone for many a mile around; one alone remains to overshadow the gable-end of the cottage. There is a garden around the dwelling, and far beyond that stretches an orchard. The glory of an Indian summer is over all, making the heart leap at the sight of its gorgeous beauty.
At the door of the house, looking towards the town, stands Mary, watching for the return of her husband from his daily work; and while she watches, she listens, smiling;
"Clap hands, daddy comes,
With his pocket full of plums,
And a cake for Johnnie."
Then comes a crow of delight from Johnnie. Then his grandmother carries him to the door, and glories in seeing him resist his mother's blandishments to cling to her.
"English letters! 'Twas that made me so late!"
"Oh, Jem, Jem! don't hold them so tight! What do they say?"
"Why, some good news. Come, give a guess what it is."
"Oh, tell me! I cannot guess," said Mary.
"Then you give it up, do you? What do you say, mother?"
Jane Wilson thought a moment.
"Will and Margaret are married?" asked she.
"Not exactly,—but very near. The old woman has twice the spirit of the young one. Come, Mary, give a guess!"
He covered his little boy's eyes with his hands for an instant, significantly, till the baby pushed them down, saying in his imperfect way,
"Tan't see."
"There now! Johnnie can see. Do you guess, Mary?"
"They've done something to Margaret to give her back her sight!" exclaimed she.
"They have. She has been couched, and can see as well as ever. She and Will are to be married on the twenty-fifth of this month, and he's bringing her out here next voyage; and Job Legh talks of coming too,—not to see you, Mary,—nor you, mother,—nor you, my little hero" (kissing him), "but to try and pick up a few specimens of Canadian insects, Will says. All the compliment is to the earwigs, you see, mother!"
"Dear Job Legh!" said Mary, softly and seriously.
1. "Nesh;" Anglo-Saxon, nesc, tender.
2. "Farrantly," comely, pleasant-looking.
3. A common Lancashire phrase.
4. "Frabbit," peevish.
5. "Clem," to starve with hunger. "Hard is the choice, when the valiant must eat their arms or clem."—Ben Jonson.
6. To "pick ower," means to throw the shuttle in hand-loom weaving.
7. "Nor," generally used in Lancashire for "than." "They had lever sleep nor be in laundery."—Dunbar.
8. "Shut," quit.
9. "Sin'," since. "Sin that his lord was twenty yere of age." Prologue to Canterbury Tales.
10. "Old Church;" now the Cathedral of Manchester.
11. "Don" is constantly used in Lancashire for "do;" as it was by our older writers. "And that may non Hors don."—Sir J. Mondeville. "But for th' entent to don this sinne."—Chaucer.
12. "Cowd," cold. Teut., kaud. Dutch, koud.
13. "Mither," to trouble and perplex. "I'm welly mithered"—I'm well nigh crazed.
14. "For he had geten him yet no benefice."—Prologue to Canterbury Tales.
15. Wicklife uses "childre" in his Apology.
16. "What concord han light and dark."—Spenser.
17. "And thay soupe the brothe thereof."—Sir J. Mandeville.
18. "They'n," contraction of "they han," they have.
19. The case, to my certain knowledge, in one churchyard in Manchester. There may be more.
20. "Lile," a north-country word for "little." "Wit leil labour to live."—Piers Ploughman.
21. "May happen," perhaps.
22. "Wick," alive. Anglo-Saxon, cwic. "The quick and the dead."—Book of Common Prayer.
23. "At after." "At after souper goth this noble king." Chaucer; The Squire's Tale.
24. "Ritling," probably a corruption of "ricketling," a child that suffers from the rickets—a weakling.
25. "Cotched," caught.
26. "Letting on," informing. In Anglo-Saxon, one meaning of "lætan" was "to admit;" and we say, to let out a secret.
27. "Reet," right; often used for "very."
28. "Rucks," a great quantity.
29. A similar use of a double negative is not unfrequent in Chaucer; as in the "Miller's Tale":
