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"Whither has he gone?' I inquired anxiously.

"I hope, to heaven!' replied the peasant, in a tone of compassion.

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"The shepherd made no answer, but crossed himself devoutly.

"Tell me the manner of his death,' I said, after a short pause, in which sorrow and disappointment had succeeded to the pleasing anticipations in which I had indulged, of again conversing with the old man.

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""Tis but a short tale,' he said, and I will tell it you willingly.' He seated himself on one of the fragments of rock which lay plentifully scattered about, and continued: It is now about six months that we ceased to observe the hermit walk on the mountain, which was his constant custom; and the bread and fruits which were left for him were untouched. We thought, perhaps, he had broken his rule, and gone to Sion for a day, but, when another day passed, and still the fruits remained, we were fearful that something was wrong, and taking a piece of lighted pine-wood, we determined to ascend to the hermitage. When we had nearly reached the top we found the lights, which the hermit kept constantly burning, were extinguished; and, on listening, we heard distinctly the low wailings of a dog. Some of our party were seized with fear, and returned with precipitation, fearful of they knew not what myself and another continued our way. We entered the dark apartment of the hermitage, and the first object that met our sight was the old man lying dead on the mattress which served him for his bed. His poor dog, whose wailings we heard, was

lying close beside his dead master, apparently almost starved for want of food. The death of the old man was a source of great sorrow to the country people around, for they loved him very much, and a great number followed him to his grave. He was buried in the churchyard of the monastery in the valley.'

"Did he leave no paper behind, to say who he was?' I inquired.

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None,' said the shepherd. No one knows who he was, or whence he came; but it is hoped he will rest in peace, though he died enshrined with all his sins to answer for.'

"I rewarded the shepherd for his story, and returned to Sion, filled with melancholy."

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London Pub Oct 28 1829 by Robert Jenmats, 62, Cheapside & raiden bovit et Gallerie Vivienne Ła

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