pherd of Pendle, to myself, and
so have I sung, on summer days, these many years, lying out atop of
old Pendle Hill, keeping watch over my flock.

In good sooth, a shepherd's life is a hard one, on our Lancashire
fells, for nine months out of the twelve. The nights begin to be sharp
with frost towards the back-end of the year, for all the days are
sunny and warm at times. Bitter cold it is in winter and worse in
spring, albeit the daylight is longer.

'As the day lengthens, so the cold strengthens,' runs the rhyme, and
well do men know the truth of it in these parts. Many a time a man
must be ready to give his own life for his sheep, aye and do it too,
to save them in a snow-drift or from the biting frost. It is an
anxious season for the shepherd, until he sees the lambs safely at
play and able to stand upon their weak legs and run after their
mothers. But it is not until the dams are clipped that a shepherd has
an easy mind and can let his thoughts dwell on other things. Then, at
last, in the summer, his time runs gently for a while; and I, for one,
was always ready to enjoy myself, when once the bitter weather was
over.

So there I was, one day many years ago, nigh upon Midsummer, lying out
on the grassy slopes atop of old Pendle Hill, and singing to myself--

'Ingleborough, Pendle and Pen-y-Ghent
Are the highest hills 'twixt Scotland and Trent.'

But for all I sang of the hills, my thoughts were in the valleys. I
lay there, watching till the sun should catch the steep roof of a
certain cot I know. It stands by the side of a stream, so hidden among
the bushes that even my eye cannot find it, unless the sunlight finds
it first, and flashes back at me from roof and window-pane. That was
the cot I had never lived in then, but I hoped to live in it before
the summer was over, and to bring the bonniest lass in all yon broad
Yorkshire there with me as my bride. That was to be if things went
well with me and with the sheep; for my master had promised to give me
a full wage (seeing I had now reached man's estate), if so be I came
through the spring and early summer without losing a single lamb.
Thinking of these things, and dreaming dreams as a lad will, the hours
trod swiftly over Pendle Hill that day; for all the sun was going down
the sky but slowly, seeing it was Midsummer-tide.

Suddenly, as I lay there looking down over the slope, I saw a strange
sight, for travellers are scarce on Pendle Hill even at Mid