The Broken Font, by the Author of 'Tales of the Wars of Our Times'

Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: CHAP. III. A branch of May we have brought you, And at your door it stands; It is but a sprout, But its well budded out, By the work of our Lord's hands. The hedges and trees they are so green, As green as any leek; Our heavenly Father he watereth them, With his heavenly dew so sweet. From the Mayer's Song. The morning star glittered brightly above the fine old tower of Cheddar church, and the low parsonage lay still and asleep amid the flowers and the dewy grass plots of its pleasant garden, as advancing, from beneath the ancient yew in the churchyard, to the wicket opposite the good vicar's porch, a party of hale young rustics with coloured ribands in their hats and on their loose white sleeves, planted, on either side the entrance, a fine branch of white thornin full blossom, and struck up, with full and cheerful voices, the very ancient medley from which the stanzas at the head of our present chapter are taken. They had not sung two verses before the door of the parsonage was opened by a merry looking old serving man ? two lasses' heads were thrust from a window over the kitchen ? the mistress's good humoured eyes were seen over a white chamber blind, ? and the parson himself, with a face as expressive of joy as a child's, though marked with the furrows of seven-and-sixty years, came forth to the wicket in a loose morning gown, with a black scull-cap on his silvery hairs, and listened, with a motion of the lips, that showed his voice, though not audible, and his kind heart were attuned to theirs, and to the coming holyday. When their song was done, he dismissed them with his blessing, with the customary gift of silver, and with a caution to keep their festival with gladness and innocence, and with the love of brothers; letting the poor and aged fare...