"
And when he looked, lo! in the stern monk's place
He saw the shining of an angel's face!
1864.
. . . . .
The Traveller broke the pause. "I've seen
The Brothers down the long street steal,
Black, silent, masked, the crowd between,
And felt to doff my hat and kneel
With heart, if not with knee, in prayer,
For blessings on their pious care."
Reader wiped his glasses: "Friends of mine,
I'll try our home-brewed next, instead of foreign wine."
THE CHANGELING.
For the fairest maid in Hampton
They needed not to search,
Who saw young Anna Favor
Come walking into church,
Or bringing from the meadows,
At set of harvest-day,
The frolic of the blackbirds,
The sweetness of the hay.
Now the weariest of all mothers,
The saddest two-years bride,
She scowls in the face of her husband,
And spurns her child aside.
"Rake out the red coals, goodman,--
For there the child shall lie,
Till the black witch comes to fetch her
And both up chimney fly.
"It's never my own little daughter,
It's never my own," she said;
"The witches have stolen my Anna,
And left me an imp instead.
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