he,
"I have a cottage on the other side of that mead, seated in the middle
of a little garden, with an orchard and a small field. An old neighbour,
whose cottage fell down through age, lives with me, and cultivates my
ground. He is an honest man, and I am perfectly easy in his society; but
the loss of my son still bears hard upon me, nor have I the happiness to
see any of his children, who must by this time have forgotten me."

These complaints touched the heart of Charlotte, who told him, that she
and her mother would come and see him. The sensibility and kindness of
this little girl served only to aggravate his grief, by bringing to his
mind the loss he had sustained in his son. Tears came in his eyes, when
he pulled out his handkerchief to wipe them; and, instead of again
putting it into his pocket, in the agitation of his mind, it slipped
aside, and fell unnoticed by him or Charlotte.

The little boy, who followed them, saw the handkerchief fall, ran to
pick it up, and gave it the old man, saying, "Here, good old man, you
dropped your handkerchief, and here it is."--"Thank you, heartily, my
little friend," said the old man. "Here is a good natured lad, who does
not ridicule old age, nor laugh at the afflictions that attend it. You
will certainly become an honest man. Come both of you to my habitation,
and I will give you some milk." They had no sooner reached the old man's
cottage, than he brought out some milk, and the best bread he had,
which, though coarse, was good. They all sat down upon the grass, and
made a comfortable repast. However, Charlotte began to be afraid her
parents might come home, and be uneasy at her absence; and the little
boy was sorry to go, but was sadly afraid, should he stay, of being
scolded by his mother.

"This mother of yours," said the old man, "must be very cross to scold
you."--"She is not always so," replied the boy; "but though she loves
me, she makes me fear her."--"And your father?"--"Oh, I scarcely knew
him, he having been dead these four years."--"Dead these four years!"
interrupted the old man, and fixing his eyes attentively on the boy. "Is
it possible that I have some recollection of your features? Can it be
little Francis?"--"Yes, yes, Francis is my name."

For a few moments the old man stood motionless, and, with an altered
voice, his eyes swimming with tears, cried out, "My dear Francis, you do
not recollect your grandfather! Embrace me! you have got the very
features