of the baby's must have in some strange manner recalled the first
night of his arrival, when Abel found him wailing on the bed. For
the fierce eyes of the strange gentleman haunted Abel's dreams, but
in the face of the miller's man.

The poor boy dreamed horribly of being "dropped on" by George, with
fierce black eyes added to the terrors of his uncouth grimaces. He
seemed to himself to fly blindly and vainly through the mill from
his tormentor, till George was driven from his thoughts by his
coming suddenly upon the little Jan, wailing as he really did wail,
round whose head a miller-moth was sailing slowly, and singing in a
human voice: -

"The swallow twitters on the barn,
The rook is cawing on the tree,
And in the wood the ringdove coos,
But my false love hath fled from me.

Like tiny pipe of wheaten straw,
The wren his little note doth swell,
And every living thing that flies,
Of his true love doth fondly tell.

But I alone am left to pine,
And sit beneath the withy tree;
For truth and honesty be gone,
And my false love hath fled from me."