at last) at Mally should be soa fond o' pots,--what
ther's mooar here nor what ud start a shop; it saves th' expense of
slapdashing onyway." And he was right, for, from floor, to ceiling, and
along the old oak beams, appeared one medley of crockery--pots of all
sizes--cups and plates of all shapes and patterns were hung or reared
against the wall until it was impossible to find another place where one
might be displayed; and on the mantle shelf, a long array of china
images of fortune-telling gipsies, guarded at each end by what was
supposed to represent a dog--they might resemble dogs, but surely such a
breed exists not now, for if there was a point about them to recommend,
it was what Mally often said, "They ait nowt." In a short time both Joe
and Mally made their apperance--health bloom on their cheeks, and with
a hearty welcome prepared the morning's meal. A clean white cloth spread
on as clean a table, the requisite pots, the fresh churned butter, and
the wheaten bread was all that was displayed to tempt them to the meal;
but it was all that was required, for appetite gave relish to the plain
repast, and many a wealthy man in stately rooms, with every luxury
around, might well have envied them their simple fare, sweetened by
labor, and so well enjoyed--whilst savory meats, of which they never
knew, in vain invited him whose satiated tastes loathed every dish. But
the old farmer did not seem at ease, and when the meal was over--after a
short conversation, he bade them both good day, and turned his steps
towards his lonely home. Perhaps it was the son who called up in the old
man's mind some thoughts of former days--or perhaps the train of thought
he had indulged in previously might have laid a load of gloom upon him;
but, be it as it may, he seemed inclined to spend the day under his own
roof tree.

The winter came and spread its spotless snows o'er hills and dales; the
wild winds wailed; the woodman's axe echoed amidst the woods; the song
birds fled; the dauntless redbreast twittered on the window sills; the
cawing rooks wended their weary way in solemn flight. The spring again,
like a young bashful maid, came smiling upon old Winter's track; the
field's looked gay again; and trees seemed vieing which could first be
drest in verdant green. The Summer followed on, the sun shone o'er the
fields of ripening grass; the mowers scythe was dipped in fragrant dews,
and Flora bounteously bestowed her favorite flowers. Autum