the rocks which
here and there protrude their sullen face to check its mad career;--even
this has much of majesty and beauty, and claims our admiration. But when
some glories of the autumn yet remain, and e'er stern winter has usurped
the sway,--one wide-wide field of death and desolation is all that's
left for man to ponder over;--fading flowers, trembling and shrinking in
the raw cold blast;--half naked trees, that day by day present a more
weird aspect--fields still green, but stripped of every gem;--whilst
still some russet warbler may be heard chirping in sorrow and distress,
and heavy looking clouds anxious to screen the cheering ray, which now
and then bursts forth with sickly smile, that seems like ill-timed mirth
amongst the dead.

On such a time as this, and in the early Sabbath morning, might be seen
a stalwart farmer strolling o'er the hills which command a view of the
little but interesting village of Luddenden.

I do not think that the dreary look of decaying beauties had much effect
upon him,--the pale blue smoke that issued from his mouth, in measured
time, seemed to afford him every consolation. He evidently saw some one
approaching in whom he was interested. Having satisfied himself that he
was not mistaken, he began talking aloud:--

"Oi! that's him sure enough; nah whativer can owd Tommy want laumering
over thease hills at this time o'th' morning? He's a queer chap, takkin
him all i' all; an' still if ought should happen him aw doant know where
they'd find his marrow; he's been th' same owd Tommy iver sin aw wor a
lad, an' aw'm noa chicken nah--he said--stroking a few grey hairs,
which, like a tuft of frosted grass, adorned his ruddy cheeks. Aw sud
think he's saved a bit o' brass bi this time, for he wor allus a nipper;
but he wor allus honest, an' it isn't ivery man yo meet i'th world 'at's
honest; but aw doant think Tommy ud wrang ony body aght o'th' vally o'
that;"--saying which, he snapped his finger and thumb together to denote
its worthlessness.

A few minutes more and Tommy might be plainly seen slowly ascending the
somewhat rugged road toward the spot where stood the farmer leaning
against the wall awaiting him. I could not better occupy the time that
intervenes than endeavour to picture the approaching traveller. His age
I would not dare to guess, he might be 60, or he might be 90. He was a
short thick-set man, and rather bent, but evidently more from habit than
from weight of years. He