“They were anxiously looking out among the groups of turf-getters with which the top of the hill was dotted, for some one who was apparently the object of this unusual visit. As we went along, the labourers stopped to speak and to gaze, for a country man in a holiday dress at that busy season, was to them a rare sight. A few enquiries directed my father to the object of his search: and we soon approached a group of labourers who seemed so intent upon their work, that we stood close to them before we were observed. They differed little from the little bands that were toiling around them, except that the eye at once detected that they were all of one family. There were four able-bodied men who wheeled the turf, when cut, in barrows, to the ground where they were spread out to dry, and three girls, somewhat younger, who laid them flat on the ground for that purpose. The turf-cutter was evidently the father of all the rest. He was a short and stout man, with ruddy cheeks, and hair as white as snow. He was obviously very far advanced in years, but as active in his occupation as if he had been a much younger man. He had on a check shirt, and a coarse blue frock trimmed with black horn buttons, something like the dress of a charity boy at Chetham’s Hospital, and not very unlike a parson’s cassock. He was so intent upon his work that he did not perceive our approach till my father spoke to him, when the little old man turned suddenly round, with his spade uplifted in the air, as if he was impatient of being interrupted in his labour. To my surprise, my father immediately took off his hat, and my mother made a curtsey, actions so unusual that I began to feel an involuntary respect for him to whom such honours were paid. He returned the salute with a friendly bow and smile which showed that such attentions were not new to him: and my father taking me by the hand said, almost in the words of Scripture, ‘Sir, this is our son of whom I spake unto you.’ The old man stepped forward, and laid his hand on my head, and said, with an expression of countenance which I shall never forget—‘GOD be gracious unto thee, my son!’ Had the hand of a patriarch of old been then upon me, it could not have affected me more. It was ‘WONDERFUL WALKER;’ did you ever hear, sir, of Wonderful Walker?” CHAPTER VIII.