I care not a jot For the crook in my lot, Though I grieve a few moments in sorrow; They soon will be past, And the “First and the Last” Will send me deliv’rance to-morrow. So this is my song, &c. Even now, as I weep, I see the dawn peep Through the shadowing curtains of sorrow! Hope widens the rift-- Even now do they lift, And the rosy dawn smiles a “Good morrow!” So this is my song, As I travel along-- Come neighbours and join in my chorus? Be sure by-and-bye We shall reign in the sky, When the glory gates open before us! You might go far before you found a brighter atmosphere than that which filled the house of Piggy Morris, and all owing to the presence of that concentrated piece of sunshine, Lucy Blyth. After tea Dick came in, and received such a warmth of greeting from her that he almost lost his balance, and blushed like a peony, as hobbledehoys will under such circumstances. “Why, Mrs. Morris,” said Lucy, “here’s that troublesome fellow here again. He was here last night, and on Monday night, and on Sunday, too. Look here, young man; what do you come here so often for?” “To see my mother,” said Dick, while Lucy flung a triumphant look at the happy mother, who drew the lad fondly to her side. When, at last, Lucy rose to take her leave, it was getting dark, and Mary said she would put on her bonnet and go with her a little way. “Not to-night, Mary. I’ve chattered so much and so long that your mother ought to be in bed. I can manage very well by myself.” “I’ll go with you, Miss Blyth,” said Dick, jumping to his feet. “Oh! You think that after you’ve been working like a Briton all the day in Farmer Crabtree’s field, and walked nearly three miles beside to see your mother”--here there was another glance at Mrs. Morris--“and three miles to go back, I’m going to let you walk an extra mile with me! Why, bless the boy, you must think I’ve a heart as hard as my father’s anvil.” Meanwhile Piggy Morris had been silently re-lacing his boots, and now, getting up from his chair, he reached down his hat from a nail, and said, quietly,-- “Never mind, Dick, my lad, I’ll see Miss Blyth home.” Piggy Morris, the surly and sour, could not have surprised them more if they had seen a pair of wings sprouting from his shoulder-blades. Lucy quietly said, “Oh, thank you, Mr. Morris, you are kind,” and giving Ursa Major her arm, the oddly-matched pair turned their steps towards Nestleton Forge. “What’s cum to feyther?” said Dick, as one who waits for a reply. “Goodness knows,” said Mary; “I never knew him do such a thing before.”