and which
were consecrated to their affections. The young student had
distinguished himself highly at college, and had gained the esteem,
both publicly and privately expressed, of many of his preceptors. His
heart was still uncontaminated, his morals pure, and his habits
simple, as when he was a boy. It was at this time that Rachel died. As
her life had been peaceful, and, upon the whole, happy, so her
death-bed was tranquil and resigned. She had rejoiced, with her
husband, in the promising career of their son, and, as her dim eyes
descried his manly form bent over her in an attitude of deepest grief,
she could scarcely but feel her natural sorrow at leaving him quenched
in the glad anticipations of his future prospects in life. Yet the
misery which his ardent and imaginative nature _might_ inflict upon
him was still not shut out from her mind, and almost her last words
were to warn him against indulging it too far. She died, and the old
shepherd and his son were left to attempt to comfort each other.
William was again about to depart to college, and he would fain have
had his father to give up his duties, and accompany him to Edinburgh.
He dwelt upon his increasing feebleness, his age, already beyond the
common lot of man, the solitude to which he would be left, the comfort
they would be to each other, if together. To all this the old man
replied--

"Comfort, my boy, there is none for me in this world, except in thee.
Gradually the circle of my love has been narrowed: first, my own
parents, then my children, last, my beloved Rachel, have been swept
away; and now thou only art left for my earthly affections to embrace.
Gladly for thy sake would I go to the city; but I think these hills
could not bear to look on another while I lived--this cottage to
shelter another shepherd while I am able to fling my plaid around me.
It is a foolish fancy for an old man to cherish, yet I cannot bid it
depart. Go, then, alone, my dearest lad, and leave me in these scenes,
which have become part of my being, to perform the duties in which my
life has been spent. And still remember, William, when temptations
assail thee, or bad men would lead thee by the cords of vanity or
friendship into vice, that there is a grey-haired man among these
hills, whom the tale would send in sorrow to the grave--a heart that
for twenty years has been fed by its love for thee, which would break
to know thou hadst become unworthy of that love. Farewell! and m