THE DAY OF DEPARTURE. 423 



would see her in her cap and apron of unsullied whiteness, the 

 same respectable concAerge as in better days, ready by her trim 

 exterior and cheerful aspect to baffle the speculations of all 

 curious visitors, whether to kitchen or parlour, who might come 

 to pry into their minister's altered fortunes. 



Though my poor uncle's affairs wore an irretrievable aspect, 

 he had been urgently advised to pay a business visit to the me- 

 tropolis by friends there resident. Amongst them was my 

 father (his younger brother), who had sunk in mercantile adven- 

 ture a younger brother's fortune, and was now, with the burden 

 of a large motherless family, only toiling to acquire another. 

 To his abode in the City my uncle had for above three months 

 been promising to repair ; but in a procrastinating spirit, half- 

 nervous, half-supine, he had from day to day deferred his jour- 

 ney till the arrival of the second week in May, when he actually 

 made up his mind to leave his home for the first time for many 

 years. 



The morning came on which he was to take the coach from 

 the neighbouring post-town. Its distance of three miles was 

 beyond that of his usual walking, and he was glad, therefore, 

 to accept for the occasion a loan of the pony once his own. 

 Caleb was despatched beforehand to bring it back, and carry his 

 master's portmanteau, with a basket of provision for the jour- 

 ney, provided by Mistress Dove. About eight o'clock the 

 traveller himself started. Dolly stood on the steps, looking 

 after him with wistful gaze ; Lucy and I (for a part of the way) 

 bearing him company, she seated on the saddle before him, I 

 walking by the side. The labourers returning from their work 

 to breakfast looked inquisitive as they touched their hats, won- 

 dering at the object of their pastor's early sortie. 



Few were the words, but they were very kind, which my 

 uncle said to us, and fond were the looks fond and very sad 

 with which he regarded us as we proceeded slowly along the 

 beautiful winding road, which, after passing the church, ran 

 nearly parallel with the coast to the little sea-side town from 



