‘ing the raptures of love at an high price!’ Theſe reflections put him into great good humour, and he felt an inclination to converſe with the traveller. She ſet down her children upon the turf, and began to ſtrip the leaves from off the buſhes, but the little ones, feeling the time paſs heavy, began to ſquall unmercifully. The mother immediately quitted what ſhe was about, played and toyed with the children, took them up in her arms, dandled and toſſed them till ſhe had lulled them aſleep, and then ſhe returned to her work. Soon after the flies bit the little ſleepers, and they began their tune anew: the mother, notwithſtanding, ſhewed no ſign of impatience. She ran to the wood to gather black-berries and bilberries; having diſtributed them among the oldeſt, ſhe put the youngeſt to her breaſt. This maternal method of proceeding delighted the Gnome exceedingly. But the ſqualler, he that had rode upon his mother’s back, was not to be appeaſed: he was an obſtinate
capricious
