Part 29

Kate scorned to damp the generous flame, That warmed her aged partner’s breast; Yet, ere determination came, She thus some trifling doubts expressed:--

“Night will come on, when seated snug, And you’ve perhaps begun some tale; Can you then leave your dear stone mug? Leave all the folks, and all the ale?”

“Ay, Kate, I wool; because I know, Though time has been we both could run, Such days are gone and over now. I only mean to see the fun.”

His mattock he behind the door, And hedging gloves, again replaced; And looked across the yellow moor, And urged his tottering spouse to haste.

The day was up, the air serene, The firmament without a cloud; The bees hummed o’er the level green, Where knots of trembling cowslips bowed.

And Richard thus, with heart elate, As past things rushed across his mind, Over his shoulder talked to Kate, Who, snug tucked up, walked slow behind:

“When once a giggling mauther you, And I a red-faced, chubby boy, Sly tricks you played me, not a few; For mischief was your greatest joy.

“Once, passing by this very tree, A gotch of milk I’d been to fill; You shouldered me; then laughed to see Me and my gotch spin down the hill.”

“’Tis true,” she said; “but here behold, And marvel at the course of time! Though you and I are both grown old, This tree is only in its prime.”

“Well, Goody, don’t stand preaching now! Folks don’t preach sermons at a Fair. We’ve reared ten boys and girls, you know; And I’ll be bound they’ll all be there.”

Now friendly nods and smiles had they, From many a kind Fair-going face; And many a pinch Kate gave away, While Richard kept his usual pace.

At length, arrived amid the throng, Grandchildren, bawling, hemmed them round, And dragged them by the skirts along, Where gingerbread bestrewed the ground.

And soon the aged couple spied Their lusty sons, and daughters dear; When Richard thus exulting cried: “Didn’t I tell you they’d be here?”

The cordial greetings of the soul Were visible in every face; Affection, void of all control, Governed with a resistless grace.

’Twas good to see the honest strife, Who should contribute most to please; And hear the long-recounted life, Of infant tricks and happy days.

But now, as at some nobler places, Among the leaders ’twas decreed Time to begin the Dicky-Races, More famed for laughter than for speed.

Richard looked on with wondrous glee, And praised the lad who chanced to win. “Kate, wa’n’t I such a one as he? As like him, ay, as pin to pin?

“Full fifty years have passed away, Since I rode this same ground about; Lord! I was lively as the day! I won the High-lows, out and out.

“I’m surely growing young again, I feel myself so kedge and plump! From head to feet I’ve not one pain. Nay, hang me, if I couldn’t jump!”

Thus spake the ale in Richard’s pate; A very little made him mellow; But still he loved his faithful Kate, Who whispered thus: “My good old fellow,

“Remember what you promised me! And, see, the sun is getting low! The children want an hour, ye see, To talk a bit before we go.”

Like youthful lover, most complying, He turned and chucked her by the chin Then all across the green grass hieing; Right merry faces, all akin.

Their farewell quart beneath a tree, That drooped its branches from above, Awaked the pure felicity, That waits upon parental love.

Kate viewed her blooming daughters round, And sons who shook her withered hand; Her features spoke what joy she found. But utterance had made a stand.

The children toppled on the green, And bowled their fairings down the hill Richard with pride beheld the scene, Nor could he, for his life, sit still.

A father’s unchecked feelings gave A tenderness to all he said: “My boys, how proud am I to have My name thus round the country spread.

“Through all my days I’ve labored hard, And could of pains and crosses tell; But this is labor’s great reward, To meet ye thus, and see ye well.

“My good old partner, when at home, Sometimes with wishes mingles tears; Goody, says I, let what wool come, We’ve nothing for them but our prayers.