THE homely Priest of Ennerdale.

It was a July evening; and he sate

Upon the long stone seat beneath the eaves

Of his old cottage.

Upon the stone

His wife sat near him, teasing matted wool.

Towards the field

In which the Parish Chapel stood alone,

Girt round with a bare ring of mossy wall, While half an hour went by, the Priest had sent Many a long look of wonder; and at last, Risen from his seat, beside the snow-white ridge Of carded wool which the old man had piled, He laid his implements with gentle care, Each in the other locked; and down the path

Which from his cottage to the Church-yard led,
He took his way, impatient to accost
The Stranger, whom he saw still lingering there.

"T was one well known to him in former days, A shepherd lad;-who ere his sixteenth year Had left that calling, tempted to entrust

His expectations to the fickle winds

And perilous waters; with the mariners

A fellow-mariner, and so had fared
Through twenty seasons.

From perils manifold, with some small wealth
Acquired by traffic in the Indian Isles,

THE BROTHERS.

To his paternal home he is returned,

With a determined purpose to resume

The life which he lived there; both for the sake

Of many darling pleasures, and the love

Which to an only Brother he has borne

In all his hardships.

Towards the Church-yard he had turned aside,-
That, as he knew in what particular spot

His family were laid, he thence might learn

If still his brother lived, or to the file

Another grave was added.

By this the Priest, who down the field had come, Unseen by Leonard, at the Church-yard gate

Stopped short.

The Stranger, who had left the grave,
Approached; he recognized the Priest at once,
And, after greetings interchanged, and given
By Leonard to the Vicar as to one
Unknown to him, this dialogue ensued.

PRIEST.

Orphans - Such they were

Yet not while Walter lived:-for, though their parents Lay buried side by side as now they lie,

The old man was a father to the boys,

Two fathers in one father.

They were such darlings of each other.

From their house the school

Was distant three short miles-and in the time

Of storm and thaw, when every water-course

And unbridged stream, such as you may have noticed Crossing our roads at every hundred steps,

Was swoln into a noisy rivulet,

Would Leonard then, when elder boys perhaps

THE BROTHERS.

Remained at home, go staggering through the fords
Bearing his Brother on his back. I've seen him,
On windy days, in one of those stray brooks,
Ay, more than once I've seen him, mid-leg deep,
Their two books lying both on a dry stone
Upon the hither side.

LEONARD.

It seems, these Brothers have not lived to be

A comfort to each other.—

PRIEST.

That they might

Live to such end, is what both old and young
In this our valley, all of us have wished,
And what, for my part, I have often prayed:
But Leonard-

Poor Leonard! when we parted,
He took me by the hand and said to me,
If ever the day came when he was rich,
He would return, and on his father's land
He would grow old among us.

LEONARD.

You said his kindred all were in their graves,

And that he had one Brother

PRIEST.

That is but

From his youth

A fellow-tale of sorrow.

James, though not sickly, yet was delicate:

And, when his Brother

Was gone to sea, and he was left alone,

The little colour that he had was soon

Stolen from his cheek; he drooped, and pined, and pined.