The tumbling lantern reach'd the stream,
Its hissing light soon gone;
'Twas night, without a single gleam,
And terror reign'd alone.
A general scream the miller heard,
Then rubb'd his eyes and ran,
And soon his welcome light appear'd,
As grumbling he began:—
"What have we here, and whereabouts?
"Why what a hideous squall!
"Some drunken fool! I thought as much—
"'Tis only Andrew Hall!
"Poor children!" tenderly he said,
"But now the danger's past."
They thank'd him for his light and aid,
And drew near home at last.
But who upon the misty path
To meet them forward press'd?
'Twas Ellen, shivering, with a babe
Close folded to her breast.
Said Andrew, "Now you're glad, I know,
"To se-se-see us come;—
"But I have taken care of both,
"And brought them bo-bo-both safe home."
With Andrew vex'd, of Mary proud,
But prouder of her boy,
She kiss'd them both, and sobb'd aloud,—
The children cried for joy.
But what a home at last they found!
Of comforts all bereft;
The fire out, the last candle gone,
And not one penny left!
But Caleb quick as light'ning flew,
And raised a light instead;
And as the kindling brands he blew,
His father snored in bed.
No brawling, boxing termagant
Was Ellen, though offended;
Who ever knew a fault like this
By violence amended?