r, (which he
justly considered the best means of warding off the approach of that
disease which had proved so fatal to his family,) that he even had a pad
constructed, and took her out before him on horseback.

A strange contrast formed the old farmer, so gruff and
bluff-looking--with his stout square figure, his weather-beaten face,
short grey hair, and dark bushy eyebrows--to the slight and graceful
child, her aristocratic beauty set off by exactly the same style of
paraphernalia that had adorned the young Lady Janes and Lady Marys,
Mrs. Dorothy's former charge, and her habitual grace of demeanour adding
fresh elegance to the most studied elegancies of the toilet! A strange
contrast!--but one which seemed as nothing compared with that which was
soon to follow: for Phoebe, happening to be with her grandfather and
her great friend and playmate Venus, a jet-black greyhound of the
very highest breed, whose fine limbed and shining beauty was almost as
elegant and aristocratic as that of Phoebe herself;--the little damsel,
happening to be with her grandfather when, instigated by Daniel Thorpe's
grumbling accusation of broken fences and I know not what, he was a
second time upon the point of warning poor Jesse off the ground--was
so moved by the culprit's tattered attire and helpless condition, as he
stood twirling, between his long lean fingers, the remains of what had
once been a hat, that she interceded most warmly in his behalf.

"Don't turn him off the Moors, grandpapa," said Phoebe, "pray don't!
Never mind old Daniel! I'm sure he'll do no harm;--will you, Jesse?
Venus likes him, grandpapa; see how she puts her pretty nose into his
hand; and Venus never likes bad people. How often I have heard you say
that. And _I_ like him, poor fellow! He looks so thin and so pitiful. Do
let him stay, dear grandpapa!"

And John Cobham sat down on the bank, and took the pitying child in his
arms, and kissed and blessed her, and said, that, since she wished it,
Jesse _should_ stay; adding, in a sort of soliloquy, that he hoped
she never would ask him to do what was wrong, for he could refuse her
nothing.

And Jesse--what did he say to these, the first words of kindness that he
had ever heard from human lips? or rather, what did he feel? for beyond
a muttered "Thankye," speak he could not, But gratitude worked strongly
in the poor boy's heart: gratitude!--so new, so overpowering, and
inspired by one so sweet, so lovely, so gentle as