Misses Somers, who were fond of music, were among the ladies, and
the prize was in the hands of Sir Arthur.

There was now silence. The first harp sounded, and as each harper
tried his skill, those who listened seemed to think that he deserved
the prize. The old blind man was the last. He tuned his harp, and such
a simple, sad strain was heard as touched every heart. All were
delighted, and when the music ceased there was still silence for some
moments.

The silence was followed by loud cheers. The judges were all agreed
that the old blind harper, who had played last, deserved the prize.
The simple, sad air, which had moved all who listened, was composed by
himself. He was asked to give the words belonging to the music, and at
last he modestly said he would repeat them, as he could not see to
write. Miss Somers took her pencil, and as the old harper repeated his
ballad, she wrote the words. He called it "Susan's Lamentation for her
Lamb." Miss Somers looked at her brother from time to time, as she
wrote, and Sir Arthur, as soon as the old man had finished, took him
aside and asked him some questions, which brought to light the whole
story of Susan's lamb and of Attorney Case's cruelty.

The Attorney himself was present when the harper began to repeat his
ballad. His color, as Sir Arthur steadily looked at him, changed from
red to white, and from white to red, until at length he suddenly
shrunk back through the crowd and left the room. We shall not follow
him. We had rather follow our old friend the harper. No sooner had he
received the prize of ten guineas, than he went to a small room
belonging to the people of the house, asked for pen, ink, and paper,
and dictated, in a low voice to his boy, a letter, which he ordered
him to put at once into the post-office. The boy ran off with the
letter and was but just in time, for the postman's horn was sounding.
The next morning Farmer Price was sitting beside his wife and Susan
sorrowing that his week's leave was nearly at an end, and that they
had not enough money to give to the man who was willing to go in his
place, when a knock was heard at the door. Then the person who
delivered the letters in the village put one into Susan's hand,
saying, "A penny, if you please--here's a letter for your father."

"For me!" said Farmer Price; "here's the penny then; but who can it be
from, I wonder? Who can think of writing to me, in this world?" He
tore open the letter, but the hard