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 Blow, blow, whistle and blow, Wandering over the world I go. Would I might wander—Lo! I must wander, Away....away....and away!

Janet.—Here, Hine, here is the place and these are the seeds, to be planted here, do you see? and here....and again along this strip by the creek. But take your time; do not tire yourself out. The day is young yet, but, oh! it is hot already.

Hine (pointing to the basket of strawberries on the ground).—You carry ripe berries, O Hanete. If there is to be gathering, must not planting come first?

Janet.—Of course it must. But for this harvest there is no such hurry; an hour or so will make no great difference; and, Hine, you are growing old, you know, and

Hine.—The young think that there are none but the young.

Janet.—No, no! Do not say that! Do not take it like that—indeed I meant nothing unkind. (Aside: I have hurt her, the poor old creature!) (To Hine) But be wise; and, when the sun does really strike down, as strike he will to-day, come in and rest awhile; I will see that the kettle boils.

Hine.—O friend, it is well! But in these hands there is still strength, not alone to receive the cup, but also to draw up the bucket.