at the village inn. But Ralph, though having an inclination to
convivial pleasures, was naturally of a serious, even of a solemn
temperament. He was a rude son of a rude country,--rude of hand, often
rude of tongue, untutored in the graces that give beauty to life.

By the time that Ralph had attained to the full maturity of his
manhood, the struggles of King and Parliament were at their height.
The rumor of these struggles was long in reaching the city of
Wythburn, and longer in being discussed and understood there; but, to
everybody's surprise, young Ralph Ray announced his intention of
forthwith joining the Parliamentarian forces. The extraordinary
proposal seemed incredible; but Ralph's mind was made up. His father
said nothing about his son's intentions, good or bad. The lad was of
age; he might think for himself. In his secret heart Angus liked the
lad's courage. Ralph was "nane o' yer feckless fowk." Ralph's mother
was sorely troubled; but just as she had yielded to his father's will
in the days that were long gone by, so she yielded now to his. The
intervening years had brought an added gentleness to her character;
they had made mellower her dear face, now ruddy and round, though
wrinkled. Folks said she had looked happier and happier, and had
talked less and less, as the time wore on. It had become a saying in
Wythburn that the dame of Shoulthwaite Moss was never seen without a
smile, and never heard to say more than "God bless you!" The tears
filled her eyes when her son came to kiss her on the morning when he
left her home for the first time, but she wiped them away with her
housewife's apron, and dismissed him with her accustomed blessing.

Ralph Ray joined Cromwell's army against the second Charles at Dunbar,
in 1650. Between two and three years afterwards he returned to
Wythburn city and resumed his old life on the fells. There was little