Chapter III

Good-night! Caressing and caressed,
The moist babe warms its mother’s breast.
Silent are rustic loom and lathe;
The scythe lies quiet as the swathe;
The woodreeve blinks in covert shed,
The weary yokel is abed,
The covey warm beneath the wing,
And sleep enfoldeth everything.
Forsaken love, its last tear shed,
On the lone pillow lays its head,
And all our woes are respited:
Good-night!

_Printed by_ R. & R. CLARK, LIMITED, _Edinburgh_.

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Transcriber’s note:

Obvious typographical errors have beencorrected silently . All other variations in hyphenation spelling and punctuation remain unchanged.

Colour plates are identified by their captions. The many illustrations without captions are black and white sketches of largely rural scenes. No attempt has been made to describe them.