[_Presses his cap between his hands, looks up and prays.--The STRANGER observes him attentively._ _Fra._ [_To the STRANGER.] This old man's share of earthly happiness can be but little; yet mark how grateful he is for his portion of it. _Stra._ Because, though old, he is but a child in the leading strings of Hope. _Fra._ Hope is the nurse of life. _Stra._ And her cradle is the grave. [_TOBIAS replaces his cap._ _Fra._ I wish you joy. I am glad to see you are so much recovered. _Tob._ Thank you. Heaven, and the assistance of a kind lady, have saved me for another year or two. _Fra._ How old are you, pray? _Tob._ Seventy-six. To be sure I can expect but little joy before I die. Yet, there is another, and a better world. _Fra._ To the unfortunate, then, death is scarce an evil? _Tob._ Am I so unfortunate? Do I not enjoy this glorious morning? Am I not in health again! Believe me, sir, he, who, leaving the bed of sickness, for the first time breathes the fresh pure air, is, at that moment, the happiest of his Maker's creatures. _Fra._ Yet 'tis a happiness that fails upon enjoyment. _Tob._ True; but less so in old age. Some fifty years ago my father left me this cottage. I was a strong lad; and took an honest wife. Heaven blessed my farm with rich crops, and my marriage with five children. This lasted nine or ten years. Two of my children died. I felt it sorely. The land was afflicted with a famine. My wife assisted me in supporting our family: but four years after, she left our dwelling for a better place. And of my five children only one son remained. This was blow upon blow. It was long before I regained my fortitude. At length resignation and religion had their effect. I again attached myself to life. My son grew, and helped me in my work. Now the state has called him away to bear a musket. This is to me a loss indeed. I can work no more. I am old and weak; and true it is, but for Mrs. Haller, I must have perished. _Fra._ Still then life has its charms for you? _Tob._ Why not, while the world holds any thing that's dear to me? Have not I a son? _Fra._ Who knows, that you will ever see him more? He may be dead. _Tob._ Alas! he may. But as long as I am not sure of it, he lives to me: And if he falls, 'tis in his country's cause. Nay, should I lose him, still I should not wish to die. Here is the hut in which I was born. Here is the tree that grew with me; and, I am almost ashamed to confess it--I have a dog, I love. _Fra._ A dog!