DICK ROOK. 199 



his mind easy on this subject, I left him appa- 

 rently prepared to meet an event, which he must 

 have known could not be far distant. Dick must 

 have undergone great privations in order to sup- 

 port his charge. When offered his usual meals 

 at my friend's house, he would drink his glass of 

 beer and eat a piece of bread, after perhaps a 

 day's hard work, or a night passed in watching 

 for poachers, and the remainder of his meal he 

 would put into his pocket. This habit at first 

 excited surprise in the servant's hall, but it was 

 Dick's constant practice, and the reason of it 

 was not discovered till after his death. 



An autumnal mist had begun to gather round 

 the cottage, when I called upon him the following 

 evening. There was the low bench by the side 

 of the door, with a bush of lavender at the end of 

 it. One or two blossoms still lingered on a 

 straggling honey-suckle, and the yellow leaves of 

 an unpruned vine were fast falling to the ground. 

 On making my way to the door leading into 

 Dick's room, I found that a blanket had been 

 considerately fastened over it, either to exclude 

 the wind, or to prevent his being disturbed by 

 noises. I entered softly, and heard the gentle 

 voice of little Susan reading the bible. Dick was 

 sitting in a chair by the side of the bed, and Susan 

 rested the bible on his knees. His rough head 

 of hair, shaggy eye-brows, pale countenance, and 



