Then I wept aloud for anguish,
Anguish I could not restrain;
"O my father! O my father!"
Cried I many times in vain.

For his lips were sealed for ever;
So I hollowed out the earth,
And I buried him afar off
From the land that gave him birth.

On the day that he was buried,
Breaking loose against my will,
Travelled back my wayward fancies
To the mill-stream and the mill.

I was sitting in the door-way,
As of old, and she beside;
She the idol of my boyhood,
Crown of all my youthful pride;

Whilst the crimson hues of sunset
Glowed in all the western sky,
And I thought I read an answer
In the softness of her eye.

And I found a sort of comfort,
Thinking what was left untold,
That she loved me ere her spirit
Yielded to the power of gold.

Wealth is won from many sources;
Wealthy farmer I became;
But my love for one who loved not
In return, remained the same.

KENDAL WEAVERS AND WEAVING.

IN Domesday Boke, there is mention of a
church at Kirkby Candale; whereby we
know that Kendal, as we call it now, was a
centre to which the Saxon inhabitants of the
Westmoreland Moors came for worship and
religious comforts. And perhaps for other
comforts too; for, by the church, dwelt monks,
who, in those days, fed the helpless, and gave
out the little knowledge that was free to the
many. According to tradition, there lived
the hermit, in a hut shaped like a beehive,
and almost hidden by a double fence; and
here and there, among the heathery hills
which slope up from the river Kent on either
side, were scattered the cottages of that time
—thatched with reeds, and fit to yield only
the rudest shelter to the shepherds, whose
flocks were all abroad over the fells, and on
the green margins of the nearer lakes. This
church was to serve the whole population,
from the foot of Helvellyn to the borders of
Lancashire; and it probably served well
enough; for though there were a good many
sheep, there were very few people. That
there were so many sheep, and that they fed
on hills covered with broom and heather, were
the circumstances out of which arose afterwards
the existence of a multitude of people,
and the importance to which Kendal attained
a few hundred years later. How came it that
from these sheep being on these particular
lulls, we have seen, in our own time, upwards
of half-a-million of people employed on the
woollen manufactures of our island?

It happened thus. For two or three
hundred years after the church of Candale
was entered in Domesday Boke, the Flemings
were the greatest woollen manufacturers in
the world, and indeed almost the only consider-
able manufacturers. History states (we may
please ourselves about believing it or not)
that in the city of Louvain there were, in the
times of the insurrection against Spain, one
hundred and fifty thousand weavers, and four
thousand woollen drapers; and that when the
operatives were going home from work, a
great bell was rung, to warn mothers to
gather their little children within doors, lest
they should be trodden down by the crowd in
the streets. When political troubles broke up
this mass of people, our English kings invited
some of them over—or, at least, permitted
them to come. Henry the First settled some
of them in Wales; but the first who settled
in England opened his manufacture in the
reign of Edward the Third. His name was
John Kempe. Of all places in the island, he
chose that little valley in Westmoreland, and
that bend of the river, on which stood Kirkby
Candale, for his abiding place. Of course, he
had reasons; and it is pretty clear what they
were. The sheep were one reason; and
another was, no doubt, the abundance of the
broom, called by the country people "woodas,"
which grew on the neighbouring wilds. At
this time, and for long after, wool made
thirteen-fourteenths of our exports; and
foreigners sent us in return woollen cloth,
dyed and dressed, and a dying material wherewith
to dye the small quantity of woollen
woven at home. This dye was woad. Indigo
was not then known as a dye, and woad was
the only blue. Now, blue is one half of
green; and in the broom which grew near
Kendal, Mr. John Kempe and his successors
had the other half—the yellow; hence
arose the famous Kendal green, which was
renowned for centuries, even to within a
hundred years, when it was driven out by the
Saxon green. This Keudal green was the
first celebrated English colour. The cloth,
of the colour of the wool, was first boiled
in alum water, and then in a decoction
from this broom: which made it a bright
yellow. Then, there was only to dip it in
the blue liquor from the woad, and it was
Kendal green. This was all! And now, in
a shed which overhangs the same bend of the
river, there is dyeing going on, for one
establishment alone, which requires between forty
and fifty elementary dyes; the compounds
from which would be almost innumerable--
woods, gums, acids, insects, earths; a vast
apparatus for giving colour, compared with
the simple broom and woad of John Kempe's
time! The time and the man were held in
vivid remembrance for several centuries.
They were celebrated at the last Kendal
Guild, in 1759, together with some times and