Gladys, the Reaper

countenances. The farmers, who have been shaking their heads at sight of the unmown grass, and predicting a bad hay-harvest, are beginning to brighten up with the weather, and to consult upon the pro

ow beneath it, like so many lakes-the river looks up rejoicing, and the distant mountains are wrapped in garments dyed in the old king's own regal colours. The woods look as smooth and glo

ut of the river, and spans, with its mi

nbow a

epherd's

armers will have another progno

st as warm, albeit proceeding from a very moist eyelid! How gladly the white smoke arises once more, spirally, from the large chimneys, after having been so long depressed by the heavy atmosphere! and how the massive ivy that covers the gable end, responds to the songs of the birds that warble their evening gladness amongst its gleaming leaves! The face of the dwelling i

road at the back, the scene changes, and just as our sympathies with beautiful nature we

armarthenshire; but as all the counties of England and Wales are not thoroughfares for the Irish from their country to England, we will describe these poor pe

gh it is poor enough, that the rest cannot boast of. She wears a cotton gown, shawl, straw bonnet, and shoes and stockings, which were once respectable and seem to have been originally intended for her. True, they are all worn and shabby-looking. The gown is faded, the bonnet very brown, and the shoes have holes in them; but they indicate a mind, or sta

makes a vain effort to shelter the rest. In the large hood of the red cloak a hardy-looking infant is tied up, its little head and hand being alone visible, which are engaged in munching and holding a crust of bread. At the feet of the woman are sundry articles, amongst which a bundle of rags, an iron pot, a

ted for a shawl, and a bundle on the back, distinguish the female; a long great coat and short trousers the male. They are deep in conversation upon the common theme. A young man of more stalwart figure stands beside the girl, and failing to attract her attention, kneels down on one knee and speaks low to her. A

he party is rags, and how they

d and young, with the exception of the girl, gather round the woman in the red cloak, and seem to be urgi

road that leads to the farm, the boy trotting by her side. We watch the bright red cloak till it disappears amongst the trees that surround the house; and turn

llowed by another figure. We soon hear sounds of earnest pleading, in a broad Irish brogu

blessed gospel. I'm afeered she's dyin' if

woman, for some of you come every week a

o find out her friends, my leddy! God bles

est farms of a country where large farms are rare. She has a handsome, placid face, and looks as if the world had moved on quietly and happily ever since she had been on its surface. Her dark eyes, that must once have been bright and piercing, are softened down to gentlenes

h you, my poor girl?' s

erceive something more-a pair of the most painfully melancholy, and beautiful violet eyes that we ever looked into, which are languidly uplifted to the farm-lady. With the words, 'I am very tired, ma'am,' the

h her?' she inquires, t

ord to Milford, and thin, yer honour, we come on foot all trough

o do? Why do you come aw

efordshire to git it. An' plaase yer honour's glory, she come wid us to this counthry to luk for her mother's relations

and that is all I can do for you,' s

he holy angels keep ye, the ble

ood woman, highly shocked. 'Help

he girl, and trying to a

sh name. I'll help ye, my darlin', there! Och! an it's betthe

upporting her by putting his arm round her waist, whilst the woman holds her by one arm; and t

they reach a large farm-yard, wherein some thirty fine cows, of Welsh, English, and Alderney breed, are yieldin

cries the mistress

nearest girl, mutters, 'Irish

an straw spread in the ba

side the farm-yard, whither his

'am, good enough for

, and shut the wi

in a slow g

ilding, that must look like a palac

ere is a good pump down below, where you can get water to wash yourselves, and at eight o'clo

heads. We heerd o' ye many a time, and o' the good lodgin' and supper-the sun shin

And this is why we have mo

wouldn't we? 'Tis the good

, half rags, half straw, is contrived for her head. The bonnet is taken off to increase her comfort, and, as her head falls languidly back upon the rou

in different ways, the kindly farm-lady leaves them, amid

f the country emblem, the leek, in the midst of the hungry crew who are scattered over the barn. To this she adds various scraps of coarse bread and hard cheese, which she draws from a capacious apron, and evidently considers too good for the luckless vagabonds before her. She is soon, however, as much interested as her mistress in the sick girl, to whom the

good Samaritan, as she puts the last

pon the wan cheek, as a murmured, 'T

a softer resting-place for the head and neck of the girl. The grateful friends that stand around now bless the servant as zealously as they blessed her mistress, and if she understoo

ed woman give the sick girl in about an hour. She then leaves her patient and motley guests to their suppe