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surcharged with the morning dew, employs that time in putting every thing in the neat order and manner you see them placed. What! said the Countess, interrupting her, is the shepherdess indeed your daughter? Would to heaven she was, replied the good old creature! she is the daughter of my heart, and I have a mother's fondness for hcr; but I am not so happy as to have brought such perfections into the world, nor are we worthy of such honour. What is she thcn? Whence came she? What misfortune has reduced hcr to so low a station? All that is a secret to us. Three years ago she came here in the habit of a villager, and offered to tend our flock. She would have bcen wclcomc to sharc our little, without taking upon her that painful task; so much the sweetness of her person and behaviour engaged our hearts. We could not believe she was brcd in a cottage. Our questions made her uneasy. We desisted from farther cnquiry, as they seemed to disturb her. As our knowledge of her good qualities incrcased, so did our respect, but the morc we strove to show her that rcspect, the more she humbled herself beforc us. No, nevcr had any child for its parents a more tender regard, a more constant care She cannot obey, because 'tis impossible for us to command; but she dives into our hearts, and prevents our wishes, when they are scarcely formed. What is shc doing now in thc sheep-fold, asked the Countess. She milks the ewes and she-goats, fosters the young kids and lambs, and gives them fresh litter. The cheeses she makes are thought delicious; no doubt for having been pressed with her neat hands. I carry it to the
