ttle;
a very pretty song, which bodes the farmers much good. Let them look to
their cattle.

"All alone here, brother?" said a voice close by me, in sharp but not
disagreeable tones.

I made no answer, but continued my work, click, click, with the gravity
which became one of my profession. I allowed at least half a minute to
elapse before I even lifted up my eyes.

A girl of about thirteen was standing before me; her features were very
pretty, but with a peculiar expression; her complexion was a clear olive,
and her jet black hair hung back upon her shoulders. She was rather
scantily dressed, and her arms and feet were bare; round her neck,
however, was a handsome string of corals, with ornaments of gold; in her
hand she held a bulrush.

"All alone here, brother?" said the girl, as I looked up; "all alone
here, in the lane; where are your wife and children?"

"Why do you call me brother?" said I; "I am no brother of yours. Do you
take me for one of your people? I am no Gypsy; not I, indeed!"

"Don't be afraid, brother, you are no Roman--Roman, indeed! you are not
handsome enough to be a Roman; not black enough, tinker though you be. If
I called you brother, it was because I didn't know what else to call you.
Marry, come up, brother, I should be sorry to have you for a brother."

"Then you don't like me?"

"Neither like you, nor dislike you, brother; what will you have for that
kekaubi?"

"What's the use of talking to me in that un-Christian way; what do you
mean, young gentlewoman?"

"Lord, brother, what a fool you are! every tinker knows what a kekaubi
is. I was asking you what you would have for that kettle."

"Three-and-sixpence, young gentlewoman; isn't it well mended?"

"Well mended! I could have done it better myself; three-and-sixpence!
it's only fit to be played at football with."

"I will take no less for it, young gentlewoman; it has caused me a world
of trouble."

"I never saw a worse mended kettle. I say, brother, your hair is white."

"'Tis nature; your hair is black; nature, nothing but nature."

"I am young, brother; my hair is black--that's nature: you are young,
brother; your hair is white--that's not nature."

"I can't help it if it be not, but it is nature after all; did you never
see grey hair on the young?"

"Never! I have heard it is true of a grey lad, and a bad one he was. Oh,
so bad."

"Sit down on the grass, and tell me all about it, sister; do to oblige
me,