The Battle of Life by Charlotte Maria Tucker

LONELY was the little cottage in which dwelt Silas Mytton, the hewer and chopper of firewood. It stood in a corner of a heath, with not another house near it, and all the winds could sweep over it unchecked from every quarter. It was a small patched-up place, with one little window at the side of the door, and above it another peeping from under the low thatched roof. The cottage had been scarcely large enough to hold Silas, his wife, and their five children; but now Mrs. Mytton was dead, and the eldest boy had gone to sea.

The common looked pleasant enough in the summer, when the blossoms on the flags showed like white feathers round the patches of water, and the heather purpled the ground, and yellow furze dotted it with gold, and geese fed there, and donkeys browsed, and butterflies fluttered over the honied wild-flowers.