"And whither are you going, Child, To night along these lonesome ways?" "To Durham" answered she half wild"Then come with me into the chaise."

She sate like one past all relief;
Sob after sob she forth did send
In wretchedness, as if her grief
Could never, never, have an end.

"My Child, in Durham do you

dwell?"

She check'd herself in her distress,

And said, "My name is Alice Fell;
I'm fatherless and motherless.

And I to Durham, Sir, belong."

And then, as if the thought would choke Her very heart, her grief grew strong; And all was for her tattered Cloak!

The chaise drove on; our journey's end Was nigh; and, sitting by my side,

As if she'd lost her only friend

She wept, nor would be pacified.

Up to the Tavern-door we post;
Of Alice and her grief I told;
And I gave money to the Host,
To buy a new Cloak for the old.

"And let it be of duffil grey,

As warm a cloak as man can sell!"

Proud Creature was she the next day, The little Orphan, Alice Fell!

IX.

WE ARE SEVEN.

-A SIMPLE child

That lightly draws its breath,
And feels its life in every limb,
What should it know of death?

I met a little cottage Girl:
She was eight years old, she said;
Her hair was thick with many a cur!

That clustered round her head.

She had a rustic, woodland air,

And she was wildly clad;

Her eyes were fair, and very fair;

-Her beauty made me glad.

"Sisters and brothers, little Maid, How many may you be?"

"How many? Seven in all," she said,

And wondering looked at me.

"And where are they? I pray you tell."

She answered, "Seven are we;

And two of us at Conway dwell,

And two are gone to sea.

Two of us in the church-yard lie,

My sister and my brother;

And, in the church-yard cottage, I

Dwell near them with my

mother."

"You say that two at Conway dwell,

And two are gone to sea,

Yet ye are seven!-I pray you tell,

Sweet Maid, how this may be?"

Then did the little Maid reply,

"Seven boys and girls are we; Two of us in the church-yard lie, Beneath the church-yard tree."

"You run about, my little Maid, Your limbs they are alive;

If two are in the church-yard laid,

Then ye are only five."

"Their graves are green, they may be seen,"

The little Maid replied,

"Twelve steps or more from my mother's door,

And they are side by side,

My stockings there I often knit,

My kerchief there I hem;

And there upon the ground I sit—

I sit and sing to them.

And often after sun-set, Sir,

When it is light and fair,

I take my little porringer,

And eat my supper there.

The first that died was little Jane;

In bed she moaning lay,

Till God released her of her pain;

And then she went away.