“‘You seem to be in grief, my friend; can I do anything to relieve it?’
“‘May be otherwise, if you will tell me the cause.’
“‘I’ll tell you, sir; but it is out of your power to repair my loss.’
“He then feelingly related the following simple tale.”
About three years ago, sir, I married one of the prettiest girls you ever saw—an inhabitant of the neighbouring village. Her good heart was light, and her hand always open to the stranger and the poor, as far as our means could afford. We were married in the little church of Aber, and a merry one was our wedding day. Her mother gave me a young kid upon the occasion, which we took home with us and brought up in the cottage, as you would a dog that you loved for the giver’s sake; and for its own sake I loved the pretty animal. It was as playful and as gentle as a kitten; and I taught it a number of tricks that greatly amused all our neighbours. Truan hyny! At length, my poor Mary brought me a boy, but she, poor girl, was too delicate to suckle the infant, and my gentle goat, that had lately brought forth two kids, supplied us with milk for the child, who did well, and God be praised, still does well;—my poor pet was the saving of his life. Well, I went to my work, as usual, and Mary made my home a heaven upon earth;—for she was an angel, and furnished me with every comfort that mortal could desire. God bless her!—and she is blessed, if goodness finds bliss in heaven, which no one doubts.
Well, sir, a second year flew away quickly, and my partner brought me forth twins—the sweetest babes eyes ever looked upon, and so like each other, you couldn’t tell which was which; so we tied a ribbon upon Mary’s arm, to distinguish her from Kate. Well, my poor pet goat again stood wet nurse to the offspring; and my wife recovered her health and beautiful looks; our evenings passed in talking of what we should do for them, when they grew up. Ah, sir, it would have done your heart good to have seen her blue eyes turned up to the sky, imploring blessings upon their innocent heads, and every night kneel down to pray to her Creator, for mercy on herself and me! although He knows better than I do, that she was as free from soil as the waters of the rocky rill, and you might see her heart as clearly as the pebbles at its bottom. Ah! that was a sight for good men to look upon, and be thankful that they had seen it. You’ll excuse me, sir; but I can’t help shedding tears, when I think upon the fate of poor Mary!—gwae! gwae!