In a moment Milly's eyes flashed light, and the bloom of the
moorland flower reflected itself in the blush of her cheeks.
Throwing up both hands, and wild with a tide of new life, she
cried:

'Nurse! nurse! Sithee--a yethbob--a yethbob!'

From that hour commenced Milly's convalescence. What medicine and
nursing failed to accomplish was carried to a successful issue by
'a tuft of heather.' For Milly did not die--indeed, she still
lives; and although unable to roam and romp the moors that lie in
great sweeps around her cottage home, she sits and looks at 'th'
angels' een'--as she still calls the stars--believing that in
those heavenly watchers are the eyes that slumber not, nor sleep.



III.

OWD ENOCH'S FLUTE.


It was a sunny afternoon in June, and old Enoch, sitting in the
shade of the garden bushes, called forth sweet tones from his
flute. No score was before him; that from which he played was
scored on his heart. Being in that sweet mood when

'Pleasant thoughts
Bring sad thoughts to the mind,'