When the squire returned he called to Julius and his daughters, "What
idle-backs you are! Come, and bind a sheaf with me." And they rose with
a merry laugh, and followed him down the field, working a little, and
resting a little; and towards the close of the afternoon, listening to
the singing of an old man who had brought his fiddle to the field in
order to be ready to play at the squire's "harvest-home." He was a thin,
crooked, old man, very spare and ruddy. "Eighty-three years old, young
sir," he said to Julius; and then, in a trembling, cracked voice, he
quavered out,--
"Says t' auld man to t' auld oak-tree,
Young and lusty was I when I kenned thee:
I was young and lusty, I was fair and clear,
Young and lusty was I, many a long year.
But sair failed is I, sair failed now;
Sair failed is I, since I kenned thou.
Sair failed, honey,
Sair failed now;
Sair failed, honey,
Since I kenned thou."
It was the appeal of tottering age to happy, handsome youth, and Julius
could not resist it. With a royal grace he laid a guinea in the old
man's open palm, and felt fully rewarded by his look of wonder and
delight.
"God give you love and luck, young sir. I am eighty-three now, and sair
failed; but I was once twenty-three, and young and lusty as you be. But
life is at the fag end with me now.
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