COTTAGE IDEAS. 



PASSING by the kitchen door, I heard Louisa, the maid, 

 chanting to a child on her knee : 



Feyther stole th' Paason's sheep ; 

 A merry Christmas we shall keep ; 

 We shall have both mutton and beef — 

 But we won't say ?ioihing about it. 



To rightly understand this rhyme you must sing it with 

 long-drawn emphasis on each word, lengthening it into at 

 least two syllables ; the first a sort of hexameter, the 

 second a pentameter of sound : 



Fey-ther sto-ole th' Paa-son's sheep. 



The last line is to come off more trippingly, like an 

 1 aside.' This old sing-song had doubtless been handed 

 down from the times when the labourers really did steal 

 sheep, a crime happily extinct with cheap bread. Louisa 

 was one of the rare old sort — hard-working, and always 

 ready ; never complaining, but satisfied with any food 

 there chanced to be ; sensible and sturdy ; a woman 

 who could be thoroughly depended on. Her boxes were 

 full of good dresses, of a solid, unassuming kind, such as 

 would wear well — a perfect wardrobe. Her purse was 

 always well supplied with money ; she had money saved 

 up, and she sent money to her parents : yet her wages, 

 until late years, had been small. In doing her duty to 

 others she did good to herself. A duchess would have 



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