"Follows here the gloomy shadow From our mansion by the river, And the angry words of father In my ears are ever ringing-- Still I see your sorrow, Mother, On the day my heart was broken By the angry words of father, 'Never shall you wed this beggar.' Mother! Mother! Have you missed me? Then in answer came a whisper, From the darkness came a whisper, Moving like a darker shadow, Like a gloomy thought of sorrow In the blackness of the night-time, Making all the world seem hopeless, Speaking sadly in the darkness "Lo! I'm dead and long departed To the land beyond the sunset." 36. FEEBLE GREW HER AGED FOOTSTEPS. Tis ever thus when hope is gone, Feeble grow the lagging foot-steps And slow the hands that carry on, Waiting for the final shadow. Only then her footsteps faltered, Only then she seemed discouraged, Still she labored for her children, Cooking woodchuck in the cabin, Boiling squirrels in the kettle, And the fearless woodland pussy, Broiled above the glowing embers, Browned and ready for their supper; Pounded corn in ancient mortar, In the cabin in the forest, Caring for the many children, Indian children of the Light House, Tokens of her father's anger And her own unyielding answer. Feeble grew her aged footsteps, Toiling there beside the river. Gone her youth and all her beauty, Gone her joyous smiles and laughter, Snowy white her tangled tresses. Now her thoughts kept turning backward To the distant days of childhood, To the happy days with mother. Clearly still she thought of father, Say her children's children's children, And his bitter words of anger, Giving her no word of kindness, When she humbly sought his blessing, On the union she had chosen, Yet her spirit lived unbroken, But the weary years were many, Saddened by the bitter quarrel, "But" she whispered very slowly, 'Though the years again roll backward, Filling life with youth and beauty, Bringing crowds of wealth suitors, Never would I wed for money, Where my heart refused to follow." "Better toil through life in freedom Than be bought by suitor's money Like a lowly slave at auction." 37. GRANNY CHAVCHAM'S DAYS WERE OVER. When autumn lay on vale and hill, Sadness came into the cabin Where Granny Chaugham lay so still, For her troubled life was ended. When the autumn moon was yellow And the forest colors fading; When the maple leaves were falling, Floating on the Tunxis waters, And the birds were southward flying In the pleasant Indian summer, Thus 'tis written in the records, Granny Chaugham's days were over, All her joys and sorrows ended For she died in eighteen twenty-- And her age--one hundred five years. 38. WILLIAM WILSON READ THE BIBLE. And there beside the open grave William Wilson spoke of Molly, A woman grandly true and brave, Worthy of their kind remembrance.