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As though the one in grief had sigh'd,
"Alice! Is thus my love requited?"
As though the other had replied,

"My love-my life-by thee were blighted!" The past came o'er them, and the darts

Of youthful love their breasts were rending, But in their wither'd, wilder'd hearts,

Anger, reproach, and pride were blending. Some fancied wrongs they could not brook ;— Though desolate and heavy-hearted,

They turned aside—and with a look,—
A look of keen reproach, they parted.

Again they met ;-the silver hairs

O'er his deep furrow'd brow were flowing;
And in her heaving breast of cares,

No burning thoughts of love were glowing.
I mark'd their glance, with keen distress,
For ill their smile with pleasure suited;
It was a smile of bitterness,

And told of hatred deeply rooted.
And can it be where love has been,

That deadly hate can find a dwelling!

Is there on earth so sad a scene

As human heart 'gainst heart rebelling!

It seemed a solace to their grief

To think each other broken-hearted;

A sweet revenge that gave relief

To their deep woes ;-again they parted.

Once more they met :-The churchyard ground With shadowy pall and plume was clouded; And he was wrapt in thought profound,

And she in sable coffin shrouded.

With sudden frensy flash'd his eye,

And, as from horrid dream awaking,

He utter'd that unearthly cry

Which told us that a heart was breaking.

Speechless awhile he struggling lay; Nature gave way beneath that sorrow, For senseless he was borne away :

He was a corpse, before the morrow! Where slumber age, and youth, and pride; The tender, and the iron-hearted;

They lie together, side by side,
And they will never more be parted!

H

CHAPTER XV.

PICKINGS OF FIELDS AND MEADOWS.

Love of country.-Odd names of fields, with their significations.—A cornfield.-A grasshopper's garden.-Ploughed fields.-Turnip fields.— Brook-side meadow.-The fisherman.-Sunny-bank field.-Hop ground. ---The pretty meadow.-Winds.-The rocky meadow.—The Haws.Broad flat meadow.-Adventure of the mourning ring.—The river.

AND can it be that any one born in England can stand

upon her verdant hills, and gaze on her lovely valleys, without a thrill of delight? Can he look on the land of his birth, with her fair fields, her waving woods, her running brooks, her tall grey spires, her wealthy homesteads, and pleasant cottages, without ranking her in his heart as the first country under heaven? Go tell the Indian that the land of his birth is no better than other lands! Tell the Switzer that his native mountains are like the mountains of other climes; but their hearts will rise up to gainsay you. All that has been dear to them is blended with their native haunts; and the Indian will not quit the wilderness that is his home, nor the Switzer the mountains where he has been cradled in the storm, for all that the wide world has to bestow. Be England, then, as dear to Englishmen as other climes are to those who inhabit them. Whoever has stood on a mountain-top near the sea, on a summer's morning,

and gazed on the rural landscape, has enough to describe. No wonder that Beattie should exclaim

"But who the melodies of morn can tell?

The wild brook babbling from the mountain's side;
The lowing herd; the shepherd's simple bell;
The pipe of early shepherd dim descried
In the lone valley; echoing far and wide
The clamorous horn along the cliffs above;
The hollow murmur of the ocean tide,
The hum of bees, and linnet's lay of love,

And the full choir that wakes the universal grove."

Oh, how fresh, how soft, how sweet, how delightful is the breezy, balmy air! My very spirit seems to breathe it and enjoy it. The gale is abroad, winnowing the fields with its viewless wings, and the clear, blue sky is peaceful and lovely to look upon.

Last night the moon was gliding through the firmament, and stars without number studded the sky, and now the sun is journeying in his strength; purple and gold are his robes; he flings around him a glory that blinds the eyes, and the wide earth is lighted up by his beams.

How cool and refreshing to the eye is the verdure of the fields! How beautiful the green foliage of the trees, and blossoms of such as bear fruit! The distant hills and mountains seem to blend with the sky beyond them, and Nature is arrayed in her loveliest attire.

The cattle low from the meadow, and the sheep bleat from the pasture, while the delighted lambs race in the knolly field. The beetle hides in the grass, the bee and the butterfly are on the wing. The feathered fowl and the warbling bird rejoice, and all created things seem to hold a jubilee of joy.

The shrill call of chanticleer is mellowed by the distance

into music; the cuckoo's voice is heard from the neighbouring valley. The lusty husbandman pursues his labour; the milkmaid is singing; and, early as it is, children are prattling by the side of the cottage.

The earth is adorned with beauty, and the heavens are bright with glory; grateful scents, and lovely sights, and melodious sounds prevail. Men, birds and beasts, and creeping things partake of Nature's festival; cheerfulness smiles on all; laughter is echoed from the hills, and health, and peace, and joy, are rejoicing in the Spring.

There are sweet pickings to be had of fields and meadows. Some are liked on account of their forms, some are loved on account of their situations, while others hold honoured place in our memory and affection, because they are connected with some pleasant circumstance, or agreeable asso

ciation.

Odd as the names of fields frequently are, many of them are full of meaning, while others are derived from their local position, or from occurrences which have taken place near. In former days it was a common custom to cut measuring thongs from a bullock's hide, and as much ground as one skin thus cut into strips would inclose, was called “ A hide of land." When William the Conqueror was king, a hundred acres was called a hide of land, but, since then, smaller portions have been called by the same name. The names Great Hide and Little Hide, when given to fields, refer to the ancient custom above described. In some parts of England, a Hoppet means a small piece of ground near a house, and in others a Paddock has the same signification. Hurst, or Hyrst, is the Saxon for grove, so that Pole-hurst side, or Pole-hurst-top, is a field by the side, or above a coppice. Little Go is a short cut to a neighbouring turnpike road. Steeple Land is a hilly field, whence a church with a spire

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