THE night comes on apace; Chill blows the blast, and drives the snow in wreaths. Now every creature looks around for shelter; And whether man or beast, all move alike Towards their homes, and happy they who have A house to screen them from the piercing cold! Lo! o'er the frost a reverend form advances, His hair white as the snow on which he treads, His forehead marked with many a careworn furrow, Whose feeble body, bending o'er a staff, Shows still that once it was the seat of strength, Though now it shakes like some old ruined tower. Clothed indeed, but not disgraced, with rags, He still maintains that decent dignity

Which well becomes those who have served their country.

With tottering steps he gains the cottage door:
The wife within, who hears his hollow cough,
And pattering of the stick upon the threshold,
Sends out her little boy to see who's there.
The child looks up to mark the stranger's face,
And seeing it enlightened with a smile,
Holds out his tiny hand to lead him in.

Round from her work the mother turns her head,
And views them, not ill pleased.

The stranger whines not with a piteous tale,
But only asks a little to relieve

A

poor old soldier's wants.

The gentle matron brings the ready chair,
And bids him sit to rest his weary limbs,

And warm himself before her blazing fire.
The children, full of curiosity,

Flock round, and with their fingers in their mouths,
Stand staring at him; while the stranger, pleased,
Takes up the youngest urchin on his knee.
Proud of its seat, it wags its little feet,

And prates and laughs, and plays with his white locks.
But soon a change comes o'er the soldier's face;
His thoughtful mind is turned on other days,
When his own boys were wont to play around him,
Who now lie distant from their native land
In honourable but untimely graves;

He feels how helpless and forlorn he is,

And big round tears course down his withered cheeks.
His toilsome daily labour at an end,

In comes the wearied master of the house,
And marks with satisfaction his old guest
In the chief seat, with all the children round him;
His honest heart is filled with manly kindness,-
He bids him stay and share their homely meal,
And take with them his quarters for the night.
The agéd wanderer thankfully accepts,
And by the simple hospitable board.
Forgets the by-past hardships of the day.

-JOANNA BAILLIE