"Surely the hand of the Lord is in it; his Spirit hath led thee Then, with stamping of feet, the door was opened, and Joseph But one family only, one heart, one hearth, and one household. When the supper was ended they drew their chairs to the fireplace, Then Elizabeth told her story again to John Estaugh, Meanwhile Joseph sat with folded hands, and demurely Then came the hour of sleep, death's counterfeit, nightly rehearsal But when the morning dawned, and the sun uprose in his splendor, And John Estaugh was standing and taking leave at the threshold, Saying that he should return at the Meeting in May; while above them III. Now was the winter gone, and the snow; and Robin the Redbreast, That had covered with leaves the Babes in the Wood, and blithely Or for his Babes in the Wood, or the Cruel Uncle, and only Sang for the mates they had chosen, and cared for the nests they were building. With them, but more sedately and meekly, Elizabeth Haddon Then it came to pass, one pleasant morning, that slowly Men and women, wending their way to the Quarterly Meeting 66 Tarry awhile behind, for I have something to tell thee, Not to be spoken lightly, nor in the presence of others; And they rode slowly along through the woods, conversing together. It was a pleasure to live on that bright and happy May morning! Then Elizabeth said, though still with a certain reluctance, As if impelled to reveal a secret she fain would have guarded: "I will no longer conceal what is laid upon me to tell thee; I have received from the Lord a charge to love thee, John Estaugh." And John Estaugh made answer, surprised by the words she had spoken, "Pleasant to me are thy converse, thy ways, thy meekness of spirit; Pleasant thy frankness of speech, and thy soul's immaculate whiteness, Love without dissimulation, a holy and inward adorning. But I have yet no light to lead me, no voice to direct me. When the Lord's work is done, and the toil and the labor completed Of my own heart awhile, and listen and wait for his guidance." Then Elizabeth said, not troubled nor wounded in spirit, When I shall see thee more; but if the Lord hath decreed it, Thou wilt return again to seek me here and to find me." And they rode onward in silence, and entered the town with the others. IV. Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing, Now went on as of old the quiet life of the homestead. Patient and unrepining Elizabeth labored, in all things Always thoughtful and kind and untroubled; and Hannah the housemaid Still as of old disparaged the eminent merits of Joseph, Meanwhile John Estaugh departed across the sea, and departing Filling its chambers with fragrance, and seeming to him in its sweetness Then John Estaugh came back o'er the sea for the gift that was offered, And on the First-Day that followed, he rose in the Silent Assembly, And not otherwise Joseph, the honest, the diligent servant, Sped in his bashful wooing with homely Hannah the housemaid; For when he asked her the question, she answered, "Nay"; and then added: "But thee may make believe, and see what will come of it, Joseph.” The Theologian made reply, Writ by the skilful hand that wrote On the swift tides that ebb and flow Leave a long waste of sand and mud." "It matters little," quoth the Jew; And here the controversy closed THE SICILIAN'S TALE. ONCE on a time, some centuries ago, Wended their weary way with footsteps | This being done, he leisurely untied From head and neck the halter of the slow A different man was Brother Timothy, Of larger mould and of a coarser paste; A rubicund and stalwart monk was he, Broad in the shoulders, broader in the waist, Who often filled the dull refectory With noise by which the convent was disgraced, But to the mass-book gave but little heed, By reason he had never learned to read. Now, as they passed the outskirts of a wood, They saw, with mingled pleasure and surprise, Fast tethered to a tree an ass, that stood Lazily winking his large, limpid eyes. The farmer Gilbert of that neighborhood His owner was, who, looking for supplies Of fagots, deeper in the wood had strayed, Leaving his beast to ponder in the shade. As soon as Brother Timothy espied The patient animal, he said: "Goodlack! Thus for our needs doth Providence provide; We'll lay our wallets on the creature's back." Then Gilbert, laden with fagots for his fire, Forth issued from the wood, and stood aghast To see the ponderous body of the friar Standing where he had left his donkey last. Trembling he stood, and dared not venture nigher, But stared, and gaped, and crossed himself full fast; For, being credulous and of little wit, He thought it was some demon from the pit. While speechless and bewildered thus he gazed, And dropped his load of fagots on the ground, Quoth Brother Timothy: "Be not amazed Might live content, and, free from noise and brawls, Like Claudian's Old Man of Verona here Measure by fruits the slow-revolving year. And, coming to this cottage of content, They found his children, and the buxom wench His wife, Dame Cicely, and his father, bent With years and labor, seated on a bench, Repeating over some obscure event All welcomed the Franciscan, with a sense When Gilbert told them what had come to pass, How beyond question, cavil, or surmise, Good Brother Timothy had been their ass, You should have seen the wonder in their eyes; My wretched lodging in a windy shed, My scanty fare so grudgingly procured, You The damp and musty straw that formed my bed! But, having done this penance for my sins, My life as man and monk again begins." The simple Gilbert, hearing words like these, Was conscience-stricken, and fell down should have heard them cry, Alas! alas!" Have heard their lamentations and For all believed the story, and began Forthwith there was prepared a grand repast, To satisfy the craving of the friar After so rigid and prolonged a fast ; The bustling housewife stirred the kitchen fire; Then her two barnyard fowls, her best and last, Were put to death, at her express de sire, And served up with a salad in a bowl, And flasks of country wine to crown the whole. It would not be believed should I repeat How hungry Brother Timothy ap peared; It was a pleasure but to see him eat, His white teeth flashing through his russet beard, His face aglow and flushed with wine and meat, His roguish eyes that rolled and laughed and leered! |