172 THE MOOES AND THE MOUNTAINS. 



and in constant occupation, sketching, collecting, angling, 

 dissecting, eating, and sometimes — sleeping. I fear I am 

 the only dreamer among them ; and there are here but too 

 many gray stones to sit upon :— 



' I look round on my mother earth, 

 As if she for no purpose bore me ; 

 As if I were her first-born birth, 

 And none had lived before me.' 



But then comes the thought — the happy thought, that I 

 am not now as I once was, or, at least, deemed myself to 

 be, when wandering of old among bleak moors and deso- 

 late mountains, a thing forgotten, or, if remembered, but 

 to be despised. I now feel assured, and grateful in the 

 assurance, that there are some to whom my happiness is 

 dear, who rejoice in my joys and sympathise in my sor- 

 rows, and who would not yet that I should cease to be. 

 Wife and children ! What strange words these seem to 

 be when I think of my former self, when too often my 

 only thought was but to creep into a hole and die. But 

 what would I not now undertake to promote their comfort 

 and prosperity. Alas ! how little can I do. I may, how- 

 ever, assuredly, more earnestly and continually, thank 

 God for surrounding me with so many blessings ; and I 

 hope even yet in some measure to redeem what has so 

 often been but a feeble and erring life. The All-seeing 

 Eye alone can perceive the causes of excuse ; but then, 



