. Le petit seigneur boiteux, ou l'enfant de Cloverlea . une cloche de mouton lointaine tint maintenant et ensuite. Les pêcheurs et les ouvriers de campagne se sont ramenés de leur travail et ont fumé leurs pipes biensla verdure des ormes. Leurs enfants, libérés de la servitude de l'école, rompés à la gether parmi les tasses de beurre et les pâquerettes, les fleurs de thoseinnocent qui sont tous l'or et silverthese les petits ont besoin de covet. Un fermier lad saun-sifflait derrière ses maîtres tawnv, doux- t/ f O yeux Alderneys au-dessus des prés dewy ; une masse noire contre le bleu pâle et tendre du ciel d'eveningsky, les freux ont volé à coups

• Contributeur: Reading Room 2020 / Alamy Banque D'Images
• ID de l’image: 2CNMBJN
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• Dimensions: 1203 x 2077 px | 20,4 x 35,2 cm | 8 x 13,8 inches | 150dpi

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. The little lame lord, or The child of Cloverlea . a far-away sheep bell tinkled now andthen. The fishermen and the field laborers restedfrom their work and smoked their pipes beneaththe greenery of the elm trees. Their children, freed from the thraldom of school, romped to-gether among the buttercups and daisies—thoseinnocent blossoms that are all the gold and silverthese little ones need covet. A farmers lad saun-tered whistling behind his masters tawnv, gentle- t/ f O eyed Alderneys over the dewy meadows ; a blackmass against the pale, tender blue of the eveningsky, the rooks flew cawing and chattering home-wards. It was the best part of a summers even-ing when, just between sunset and the soft, graygloaming, between the thrushs evensong and thewondrous melody of the glorious nightingale, daylight lingers and drowsy moths flit by ondowny wings—that time when The tumult of the day is done, And the winds are at rest, When the glory is all but goneIn the wonderful west. $ 01 p I a 5 t»(I I 5 1 s B£.o 8 g B i >-s w<D DOS •dv. SUMMER GOLD. 55 The tide was ffoing out and the soft rhythm of o o *- the receding waves crept up over the cliff likesome distant fairy music. */ Hush ! tis the mermaids singing, the fisher-mens children whispered to each other—the rosy-cheeked, sun-tanned children who climbed thesteep cliff-side with strong, bare feet, and were assurefooted as so many merry young antelopes. The mermaids are singing good-night and fairweather to the outgoing boats, they said. Hurrah ! hurrah for Cloverlea! The triumphant shout echoed over the green.The women clapped their hands, and the boysthrew their caps high in the air as the victoriousteam shouldered their bats. Tisnt often as Cloverlea beats Bythesea, lads, eh? cried an old By thesea fisherman, anxiously. Noa, noa, that be true, assented the captainof the Cloverlea cricket eleven, a brawny black-smith with a heated countenance of peony hue. By thesea and Cloverlea were amicable even intheir riv

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