"No, he didn't hear me; but there was just the faint dawning of a smile about his little mouth: for God is very kind to some of those he loves, and there was no sign of pain there as he went to sleep. And I can't think that I'm wrong, in always fancying my boy where never-fading flowers bloom, for he was too young to have ever angered his Maker; and besides, did he not say, `Suffer little children to come unto me,' and `Of such is the kingdom of heaven?' "Don't you take no notice of me, that's a watery weakness; but, now, just look there, I went over every bit of that lawn reg'lar, last week, and then there wasn't a bit of daisy to be seen; while now, here they are coming up in a bunch. But it really is the case with flowers, that those you want to kill and get rid of won't die, while those you wish to save--There, don't take no notice of me, it's only a watery weakness." Poor old Pengelly went away, for the weakness seemed disposed to increase, and for long enough he was busy weeding a nook of the garden far away from where I sat. He was very reticent afterwards, for days to come, and when at last he grew more sociable his face was hard, rugged and weather-stained, and he seemed the last man to have been influenced by a tender sympathetical thought. CHAPTER FIFTEEN. SALT TEARS. That rugged exterior and tenderness of heart of the Cornish people render them marked amongst their fellows. It is questionable whether you would find in any part of England so respectable and religious a body of men as those of Cornwall. Whether fishers or miners it is the same, they are quiet, temperate, and God fearing, and certainly more intelligent than the men of many counties. I have often sat in the Ross's garden of an evening listening to the singing of the fishermen upon the cliff, not the roaring of some sailors' chorus, but the sweetly blended parts of some old hymn, or glee--for part singing lingers still amongst these Western folks. Then as to education, I have been surprised at their amount of knowledge and reading. One fair ruddy sturdy old fellow, the corners of whose lips were not free from the stains of tobacco, used to take me out occasionally in his boat and showed me the various rocks and caves, and he surprised me by his reading. The first time I was out with him I found that his boat was called _The Chemorne_, and I naturally enough asked why he had given it so quaint a name. "Oh, it means _Birch Canoe_," he said, and when I asked further, he told me that he had found the name in _Hiawatha_, when he was reading Longfellow's poems. One of my greatest intimates though amongst the fishermen, was a quiet stern-faced middle-aged man, who seemed to have some great trouble upon his mind; and one evening when he had rowed me out beyond the headland, and lay upon his oars, he began talking to me about the sorrow of his life, the death of the woman he had loved and who was to have been his wife.