time to spend on a child, I'll think over the
hint."

The pair tramped steadily on, though the sun was hot, for there was a
pleasant breeze, and the scenery became bolder and more picturesque.
They came to rising ground, at the foot of which lay a fertile valley,
and beyond it the Blue Mountains. Gazing across at them, the dominie
exclaimed:--

Yon azure ridge,
Is it a perishable cloud--or there
Do we behold the frame of Erin's coast?

"No, Wilks, no! Erin's away on the confines of Wellington and Peel, and
we are on those of Simcoe and Grey."

"Slight man, did you not perceive that I quoted poetry, and that the
allusion is to your native isle?"

"Faith. I wish the real Erin was over there; it's the old lady would be
in my arms as fast as I could run across. But this place deserves a
song, so here goes:--

Though down in yonder valley
The mist is like a sea,
Though the sun be scarcely risen,
There's light enough for me.
For, be it early morning,
Or be it late at night,
Cheerily ring our footsteps,
Right, left, right.

We wander by the woodland
That hangs upon the hill;
Hark! the cock is tuning
His morning clarion shrill;
And hurriedly awaking
From his nest amid the spray,
Cheerily now, the blackbird,
Whistling, greets the day.
For be it early morning, etc.

We gaze upon the streamlet,
As o'er the bridge we lean;
We watch its hurried ripples
We mark its golden green.
Oh, the men of the north are stalwart,
And the norland lasses fair;
And cheerily breathes around us
The bracing norland air.
We smoke our black old meerschaums,
We smoke from morn till night,
While cheerily ring our footsteps,
Right, left, right."

"Well done, Corry! I thought at first it was your own composition, but
I see it is an English song."

"Yes, it came out long ago as 'The Tramp's Song' in _Sharpe's Magazine_,
where I found it, and changed moor and moorland to north and norland, as
better suited to our purpose. It's a good song."

"What kind of vehicle is that just in front of us?"

"It's a pole on four wheels drawn by a team of oxen, and I'm going to
make a triumphant entry into Collingwood on it. The driver is a negro,
as black as my boots--were." Coristine soon overtook the remarkable
vehicle, and accosted the driv