OLD EYES AND YOUNG EYES.
By HELEN MARION BURNSIDE.
Oh, the young eyes looking forward
Through the rosy mists of hope;
Oh, the young feet, glad and eager,
As they mount the sun-lit slope!
"'Twill grow fairer"—youth is saying,
"Better things before us lie,
Ah, how beautiful and happy
Looks the land of by-and-by!"
Oh, the old eyes looking backward,
From the hill-tops chill and wide,
Ere the old feet, in the sunset,
Journey down the further side:
"Life was fairer"—age is saying
"In the morning's golden glow—
Ah, how beautiful and happy,
Was the land of long ago!"
Yet, oh, young eyes looking forward,
And, oh, old eyes looking back,
Be it noon-tide—be it sunset,
That is shining on the track—
Life is beautiful and happy,
Unto all who look on high—
Unto all whose hopes are centred,
In the Heavenly by-and-by!
[FATHER ANTHONY.]
CHAPTER I.
It was a glorious summer morning in the year of grace 1635, when a boy, aged some ten years, and a pretty fair-haired maiden five years his junior, were lolling in the shade of a gigantic copper-beech, which towered in front of the old manor house known by the name of Combe Abbey. Hugh Travers, the heir and only child of Sir Ralph Travers, was a sturdy, well-grown lad, who bade fair to follow in his father's footsteps as a soldier and a courtier, for even now his manner towards his little cousin, Cecily Wharton, was marked by gentleness and good breeding, and he was ever her protector and guardian in any childish scrapes or difficulties in which they might involve themselves.