With pines enough in winter to look green,
And show that something lives. Sure this is better
Than a great hedge of yew, making it look
All the year round like winter, and for ever
Dropping its poisonous leaves from the under boughs
Wither'd and bare.

OLD MAN.

Aye! so the new Squire thinks;
What 't is

And pretty work he makes of it!

To have a stranger come to an old house!

STRANGER.

It seems you know him not?

OLD MAN.

No, Sir, not I.

They tell me he 's expected daily now;
But in my Lady's time he never came
But once, for they were very distant kin.
If he had play'd about here when a child
In that fore court, and eat the yew-berries,
And sate in the porch, threading the jessamine flowers
Which fell so thick, he had not had the heart
To mar all thus !

STRANGER.

Come.! come ! all is not wrong;

Those old dark windows...

OLD MAN.

They're demolish'd too,..

As if he could not see through casement glass!
The very red-breasts, that so regular

Came to my Lady for her morning crumbs,
Wo'n't know the windows now!

STRANGER.

Nay they were small,

And then so darken'd round with jessamine, Harbouring the vermin ;.. yet I could have wish'd That jessamine had been saved, which canopied And bower'd and lined the porch.

OLD MAN.

It did one good

To pass within ten yards when 't was in blossom. There was a sweet-briar too that grew beside; My Lady loved at evening to sit there

And knit; and her old dog lay at her feet

And slept in the sun; 't was an old favourite dog,..
She did not love him less that he was old
And feeble, and he always had a place

By the fire-side: and when he died at last

She made me dig a grave in the garden for him.
For she was good to all! a woeful day

'T was for the poor when to her grave she went!

STRANGER.

They lost a friend then?

OLD MAN.

You're a stranger here,

Or you wouldn't ask that question. Were they sick?

She had rare cordial waters, and for herbs

She could have taught the Doctors. Then at winter,
When weekly she distributed the bread

In the poor old porch, to see her and to hear
The blessings on her! and I warrant them
They were a blessing to her when her wealth
Had been no comfort else. At Christmas, Sir!
It would have warm'd your heart if you had seen
Her Christmas kitchen,.. how the blazing fire
Made her fine pewter shine, and holly boughs
So chearful red,. and as for misseltoe,..

...

The finest bush that grew in the country round
Was mark'd for Madam. Then her old ale went
So bountiful about! a Christmas cask,

And 't was a noble one!... God help me, Sir!
But I shall never see such days again.

STRANGER.

Things may be better yet than you suppose,
And you should hope the best.

OLD MAN.

It don't look well,..

These alterations, Sir! I'm an old man,
And love the good old fashions; we don't find
Old bounty in new houses. They've destroy'd
All that my Lady loved; her favourite walk
Grubb'd up,.. and they do say that the great row
Of elms behind the house, which meet a-top,
They must fall too. Well! well! I did not think
To live to see all this, and 't is perhaps
A comfort I shan't live to see it long.

STRANGER.

But sure all changes are not needs for the worse, My friend?

OLD MAN.

May-hap they mayn't, Sir; . . for all that

I like what I've been used to. I remember
All this from a child up, and now to lose it,
'T is losing an old friend. There's nothing left
As 't was; I abroad and only meet

.

go

With men whose fathers I remember boys;
The brook that used to run before my door,
That's gone to the great pond; the trees I learnt
To climb are down; and I see nothing now
That tells me of old times,.. except the stones
In the churchyard. You are young, Sir, and I hope
Have many years in store,. but pray to God
You mayn't be left the last of all your friends.

...

STRANGER.

Well! well! you've one friend more than you 're

aware of.

If the Squire's taste don't suit with yours, I warrant That's all you'll quarrel with : walk in and taste His beer, old friend! and see if your old Lady E'er broach'd a better cask.

But we 're acquainted now.

You did not know me, "T would not be easy

To make you like the outside; but within,

That is not changed, my friend! you'll always find The same old bounty and old welcome there.

Westbury, 1798.

II.

THE GRANDMOTHER'S TALE.

JANE.

HARRY! I m tired of playing. We'll draw round The fire, and Grandmamma perhaps will tell us One of her stories.

HARRY.

Aye.. dear Grandmamma!

A pretty story! something dismal now;

A bloody murder.

JANE.

Or about a ghost.

GRANDMOTHER.

Nay, nay, I should but frighten ye. You know
The other night when I was telling ye

About the light in the churchyard, how you trembled
Because the screech-owl hooted at the window,
And would not go to bed.

JANE.

Why, Grandmamma,

You said yourself you did not like to hear him.
Pray now!.. we wo'n't be frightened.

GRANDMOTHER.

Well, well, children!