ad been give to her.

"'Little lad,' she says, 'little lad, dost ta see thy mother? Canst
na tha hear her callin' thee? Little lad, get nigh to th' Throne an'
plead!'

"I fell down beside o' th' poor crushed wench an' sobbed wi' her. I
couldna comfort her, for wheer wur there any comfort for us? Theer wur
none left--theer wur no hope. We was shamed an' broke down--our lives
was lost. Th' past wur nowt--th' future wur worse. Oh, my poor lass, how
hard she tried to pray--fur me, Mester--yes, fur me, as she lay theer
wi' her arms round her dead babby's grave, an' her cheek on th' grass as
grew o'er his breast. 'Lord God-a'-moighty, she says, 'help us--dunnot
gi' us up--dunnot, dunnot. We conna do 'thowt thee now, if th' time ever
wur when we could. Th' little chap mun be wi' thee, I moind th' bit o'
comfort about getherin' th' lambs i' his bosom. An', Lord, if tha could
spare him a minnit, send him down to us wi' a bit o' leet. Oh, Feyther!
help th' poor lad here--help him. Let th' weight fa' on me, not on him.
Just help th' poor lad to bear it. If ever I did owt as wur worthy i'
thy sight, let that be my reward. Dear Lord-a'-moighty, I'd be willin'
to gi' up a bit o' my own heavenly glory fur th' dear lad's sake.'

"Well, Mester, she lay theer on th' grass pray in' an crying wild but
gentle, fur nigh haaf an hour, an' then it seemed 'at she got quoite
loike, an' she got up. Happen th' Lord had hearkened an' sent th'
child--happen He had, fur when she getten up her face looked to me aw
white an' shinin' i' th' clear moonlight.

"'Sit down by me, dear lad,' she said, 'an' hold my hand a minnit.' I
set down an' took hold of her hand, as she bid me.

"'Tim,' she said, 'this wur why th' little chap deed. Dost na tha see
now 'at th' Lord knew best?'

"'Yes, lass,' I answers humble, an' lays my face on her hand, breakin'
down again.

"'Hush, dear lad,' she whispers, 'we hannot time fur that. I want to
talk to thee. Wilta listen?'

"'Yes, wife,' I says, an' I heerd her sob when I said it, but she
catches hersen up again.

"'I want thee to mak' me a promise,' said she. 'I want thee to promise
never to forget what peace we ha' had. I want thee to remember it allus,
an' to moind him 'at's dead, an' let his little hond howd thee back fro'
sin an' hard thowts. I'll pray fur thee neet an' day, Tim, an' tha shalt
pray fur me, an' happen theer'll come a leet. But if theer dunnot, dear
lad--an' I dunnot see how theer could--if