Attempt > Volume 1 and Select writings

THE ATTEMPT.
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■which flowed through it. Some of the hills were covered with long, wavy, yellow
grass, which, tossed about by the changeful wind, gave the appearance of passing
shadows. Many were high, barren, pointed elevations, whose dark brown coat was
here and there broken by large scars of grey and whitish stone; while others presented
the fine contrast of purple heather and bright streaks of emerald green, which so
plainly mark the course of the mountain rills.
From the front of the house we looked down upon a broad well-wooded plain,
which stretched out for many miles, and was bounded in the distance by another range
of hills. *
How pleasant it was, after days of toil, to saunter up and down among these hills
—enjoying nature, and inhaling the cool, fresh air—the true mountain breeze, so
invigorating, making one feel as if with every breath he drew in a new supply of health!
The house which we had taken had at one time been a farm house, but its pro¬
prietor having also the adjoining farm, had established his head-quarters there, finding
the house upon it much more substantial and comfortable than ours. He had still,
however, allowed his labourers to inhabit the cottages surrounding it, so that although
very retired, we ran no risk of feeling lonely.
Of the small dwellings around us we were particularly attracted by the tidiness
of one. Standing apart from the others, it had its own little vegetable garden
separately fenced in; and though its owners were but poor people, they had spared a
small strip, where their children tended with great care a few monthly roses, some
balm and thyme, and other sweet-scented plants. Its windows were tastefully hung
with pure white curtains, and the healthy fuschias above which they drooped gave the
cottage a pretty and interesting appearance.
Its inhabitants consisted of a hard-working farm-servant, his wife, and their three
children. The two eldest were girls, of the ages of six and eight years; while the third
was a mere infant, only a few days old. This youngest child, a son, was specially dear
to its parents, for they had lost successively two boys in infancy. It was, indeed, a
lovely infant, but very fragile and delicate—too fair (I thought, when first I saw it) for
this world. We had not been long in the place until we were quite interested in these
people. I frequently exchanged a few words with the father, who was a fine, honest,
intelligent fellow—quite a superior man for his station, and paid some little attention
to his children.
The infant had never been strong, and when about a fortnight old had begun to
droop and sicken. Its anxious parents watched and tended it with fondest care, doing
everything they could to keep up its small amount of strength, until one evening, when