The old man gazed on him; a tear stood in his eye!  “Young gentleman,” said he, “you are too good; may Heaven bless you for an old man’s sake, who has nothing but his blessing to give! but my knapsack is so familiar to my shoulders, that I should walk the worse for wanting it; and it would be troublesome to you, who have not been used to its weight.”

“Far from it,” answered Harley, “I should tread the lighter; it would be the most honourable badge I ever wore.”

“Sir,” said the stranger, who had looked earnestly in Harley’s face during the last part of his discourse, “is act your name Harley?”

“It is,” replied he; “I am ashamed to say I have forgotten yours.”

“You may well have forgotten my face,” said the stranger;—­“’tis a long time since you saw it; but possibly you may remember something of old Edwards.”

“Edwards!” cried Harley, “oh! heavens!” and sprung to embrace him; “let me clasp those knees on which I have sat so often:  Edwards!—­I shall never forget that fire-side, round which I have been so happy!  But where, where have you been? where is Jack? where is your daughter?  How has it fared with them, when fortune, I fear, has been so unkind to you?”

“’Tis a long tale,” replied Edwards; “but I will try to tell it you as we walk.

“When you were at school in the neighbourhood, you remember me at South-hill:  that farm had been possessed by my father, grandfather, and great-grandfather, which last was a younger brother of that very man’s ancestor, who is now lord of the manor.  I thought I managed it, as they had done, with prudence; I paid my rent regularly as it became due, and had always as much behind as gave bread to me and my children.  But my last lease was out soon after you left that part of the country; and the squire, who had lately got a London-attorney for his steward, would not renew it, because, he said, he did not chuse to have any farm under 300 pounds a year value on his estate; but offered to give me the preference on the same terms with another, if I chose to take the one he had marked out, of which mine was a part.

“What could I do, Mr. Harley?  I feared the undertaking was too great for me; yet to leave, at my age, the house I had lived in from my cradle!  I could not, Mr. Harley, I could not; there was not a tree about it that I did not look on as my father, my brother, or my child:  so I even ran the risk, and took the squire’s offer of the whole.  But had soon reason to repent of my bargain; the steward had taken care that my former farm should be the best land of the division:  I was obliged to hire more servants, and I could not have my eye over them all; some unfavourable seasons followed one another, and I found my affairs entangling on my hands.  To add to my distress, a considerable corn-factor turned bankrupt with a sum of mine in his possession:  I failed paying my rent so punctually as I was wont to do, and the same steward had my stock taken in execution in a few days after.  So, Mr. Harley, there was an end of my prosperity.  However, there was as much produced from the sale of my effects as paid my debts and saved me from a jail:  I thank God I wronged no man, and the world could never charge me with dishonesty.