to the men
below.

In a moment Oliver o' Deaf Martha's seized his boy and wrapped him
in the bosom of his coat, hugging and kissing him as though he
would impart the warmth of his own life to the little fellow.

'It's noan like thee to mak' a do like that, Oliver,' said Amos,
unmoved, 'but thaa shaps (shapes) weel.' And as the child began to
cry and struggle, Amos continued, 'Sithee! he's feeard on thee.
He's noan used to it. He thinks he ought to hev a lickin' or
summat.'

But Oliver continued his caresses.

'Well, Oliver, I've never sin thee takken th' road afore.'

'Nowe, lad! I've never lost a chilt afore.'

VI.

MIRIAM'S MOTHERHOOD.

1. A WOMAN'S SECRET.
2. HOW DEBORAH HEARD THE NEWS.
3. 'IT'S A LAD!'
4. THE LEAD OF THE LITTLE ONE.

I.

A WOMAN'S SECRET.

On a little mound, within the shadow of her cottage home, and
eagerly scanning the moors, stood Miriam Heap. An exultant light
gleamed in her dark eyes, and her bosom rose and fell as though
swept with tumultuous passion. Ever womanly and beautiful, she
was never more a queen than now, as the wind tossed the raven
tresses of her crown of hair, and wrapped her dress around the
well-proportioned limbs until she looked the draped statue of a
classic age. There was that, too, within her breast which filled
her with lofty and pardonable pride, for she awaited her husband's
return to communicate to him the royal secret of a woman's life.

Miriam and Matthias--or Matt, as she called him--had been
seven years married, the only shadow of their home being its
childlessness. Matt's prayers and Miriam's tears brought no
surcease to this sorrow, while the cruel superstition that dearth
of offspring was the curse of heaven and the shame of woman,
rested as a perpetual gloom over the otherwise happy home.

Of late, however, the maternal hope had arisen in the heart of
Miriam; nor was the hope belied. To her, as to Mary of old, the
mystic messengers had whispered, and He with whom are the issues
of life had regarded the low estate of His handmaiden. That of
which she so long fondly dreamed, and of late scarce dared to
think of, was now a fact, and a great and unspeakable joy filled
her heart.

As yet her secret was unshared. Even her husband knew it not, for
Matt was away in a distant town, fitting up machinery in a
newly-erected mill. Miriam felt it to be as hard to carry alone
the burden of a great joy as the burden of a great so