I trust you will now be able to make up for the loss of your breakfast."

"I wish, my dear, the fish be not overdone,” cried Mr. Barnet, fixing an alarmed look on the dish.

"Pray do not terrify yourself," replied Mrs. Barnet: "the fish is done to a moment; and the veal, as well as the beans and bacon, seem admirable allow me to help you."

Mrs. Barnet accordingly helped her husband to every thing she knew he liked, which, he being a man of few words, particularly at meals, accepted in silent complacency. After having amply indemnified himself for the misfortunes of the breakfast, and having attempted, in vain, to swallow another morsel, he looked with benignity at his wife, and said, "I really wish you would eat a little bit yourself, my dear."

"I believe the parting with our sweet girl has entirely deprived me of appetite; it is not in my power to eat much; but, if you please, I will drink a glass of wine with you."

"I will just take one draught more of ale first; I believe there is but one other draught in the tankard."

- Mr. Barnet having finished his ale, "Upon my word" said he "this ale is excellent, and now, my dear, I am ready to join you in a glass of wine.Here, my dear, is your very good health, with all my heart, not forgetting our dear Louisa."

After Mr. Barnet had drank a few glasses more, and praised the port as sound and stomachic, and of a good body, "I am glad to see you here again, my dear," said he; "they may talk of the comforts and conveniences of London as they please, but I think there is no place where one finds every thing so neat, and so clean, and so comfortable, as in one's own house here, and at one's own good, warm, snug fireside."

Mrs. Barnet, desirous of interesting her husband in the poor boy, thought this a good opportunity, and after expressing her own satisfaction in the thoughts of his finding home so agreeable, she proceeded in the following terms: "Yet, my dear, in the midst of those comforts which Providence has so bountifully bestowed upon us, it is impossi ble not to feel uneasiness in reflecting on the numbers of our fellow-creatures, who, instead of those conveniences which we enjoy, are fain, after fatigue and labour, to seek a little refreshment, and repose upon straw, in cold uneomfortable habitations, and from scanty provisions! The fine

boy, whom I already mentioned, was going from a workhouse to the miserable cottage of a wretched old woman, who had no natural interest in him, and-"

Here Mrs. Barnet stopped, because she perceived that her husband had fallen asleep.

The following day they had visitors, and Mrs. Barnet found no proper opportunity of mentioning to her husband the boy in whom she felt so strong an interest. The day after, she was again prevented by the following accident:, -A large company were invited to dine on turtle, at an inn in the village. This dinner was given by a gentleman. whose interest in the country Mr. Barnet opposed, of course he was not invited to the feast; but the innkeeper, who had private reasons for cultivating the good will of Mr. Barnet, and knew by what means that was to be most effectually obtained, gave him to know that a copious basin of the turtle should be sent to him.

Mr. Barnet having prepared himself for the occasion by a longer airing than usual, was waiting with impatience for the accomplishment of the innkeeper's promise, when he was informed, that in conveying the soup from the inn, the servant had stumbled, and spilt the rich cargo on the ground. This melancholy accident affected Mr. Barnet so deeply, that his wife plainly perceived it would be vain to expect that he should, for that day at least, think of any body's misfortune but his own.

The following morning, Mrs. Barnet, on the pretext of paying an early visit, drove to the old woman's cottage, to enquire after the poor boy.

She soon observed him sitting on a stone before the old woman's door, apart from the other children, who were playing on the heath.

He sprung, with extended arms, toward Mrs. Barnet, as soon as he saw her.

"Why are you not playing with the other children ?"

said she.

"Becausé," said he, "you promised to come and see me, and Lbave watched for you ever since."

That he has, indeed, madam," said the old woman, who came out of the hovel, when she saw the carriage stop; "he has been constantly on the look-out from morning to-night, although I told him, you silly fool, said I, do you think that that there fine lady will take the trouble to come to see spier a poor little wretch as you-and what does your le think he answered!". Mr. Barnet;

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"What did he answer?" said Mrs. Barnet.i

"Yes, I do think it, says he: for she promised to do so, says he; and the parson of the workhouse school told us that good folks always kept their promise, says he. And I am sure," continued the old woman, "that your ladyship always will, particularly to me, whereof your ladyship must remember that you promised to reward me, if so be I treated this boy kindly, which God he knows I have done, as in duty bound."

"Have you had any breakfast, my dear?" said Mrs. Barnet to the boy.

"I was just going to give him some," answered the old woman, "when your ladyship arrived-Was I not, child?" "I don't know," said the boy.

"He does not understand politeness as yet, please your ladyship," said the old woman; "but I will soon teach him in time; for indeed I was just going to give him some breakfast, as in duty bound."!

31

Mrs. Barnet continued to talk with the boy for a considerable time, and was highly pleased with all he said. She then gave some money to the woman, repeating her injunc tions, that she should be careful and attentive to the boy; "And now my dear, here is something for you,” added she, presenting him with a large sweet cake.

"Are you going away already?" said the boy, with a sorrowful look.

66

"Yes, my dear, I must go," replied she.

"There," said the boy, giving the cake to the old woman, you may divide that among the children."

First take some yourself," rejoined the old woman, tearing off a piece, and offering it to the boy.

"No," said he; "I do not like it now."

You cannot choose but like it," said she, taking a large bite of the cake herself. "Here, here," resumed she, as soon as she could articulate, "I assure you it is very nice; so there is a piece for you."

"I cannot eat it now," replied he, rejecting the cake, and looking mournfully at Mrs. Barnet.

"I will come and see you again, my dear," said Mrs. Barnet, tapping his cheek; " but I am obliged to go at present; pray be a good boy."

W. "I cannot be a good boy," resumed he, ready to cry, a little you are going away."

fortable hat

soon return," said she, " but pray be good."

said the boy, with a sob; "but I fear I cannot."

Mrs. Barnet had not only a warm benevolent heart, but also something of a warm imagination. The accidental manner in which she had met with this boy, and the sudden and growing interest which his appearance, behaviour, and forlorn condition, created in her breast, she considered as the impulse of Providence urging her to save a fine boy from vice, infamy, and ruin.

Fraught with this idea, she returned to her own house a little before her husband arose; and by the time he was dressed, she had every thing arranged for his breakfast..

Mr. Barnet entered the parlour with a newspaper in his hand, and, what was seldom the case, with a cheerful coun

tenance.

"I fancy you have good news to communicate," said Mrs. Barnet.

"Why, yes," said he, "I find stocks have risen one and a half per cent. by which I shall gain a pretty round sum.", "I am glad to hear it," said she, presenting him with a basin of tea.

"I do not see why we should not have a dish of johndories for dinner to-day, let them cost what they will," resumed he.

"You shall have it, my dear," said Mrs. Barnet; "I will give orders about it directly."

While Mrs. Barnet was giving the orders, her husband helped himself very plentifully to the toast; which he found buttered to his taste. He continued to eat, with every appearance of satisfaction, for a considerable time after his wife returned; and when he could eat no more, he presented her a plate of toast, with his usual phrase on like occasions "I really wish you would eat a little bit yourself, my dear."

"With all my heart," said Mrs. Barnet, " for I rejoice to see you look so cheerful and well this morning. "Why truly," said he, stroking his belly, "I do feel self pretty comfortable."

my.

Mrs. Barnet, thinking this the lucky moment for resuming the story of the poor boy, described his fine looks and helpless condition in such eloquent and pathetic terms, that her husband, in spite of his natural indifference to every thing which did not personally regard himself, seemed a little affected. Mrs. Barnet perceiving this, continued: "I do assure you, my dear, that you never saw a prettier boy."

"I make no manner of doubt of it," said Mr. Barnet;

# but as for the old woman," resumed his wife, "she seemed to be an unfeeling creature, and sinelt of gin.".

*" I make no manner of doubt of it," said Mr. Barnet; for I have known several old women smell of gin."

"I am sure she will neglect the poor boy," resumed she. "Well, my dear, since you are persuaded of that, I think we must send for the old woman, and advise her to take care of him; and I am willing to give her a few shillings out of my pocket, for so doing," said Mr. Barnet.

"That would make her promise to take care of him,” said Mrs. Barnet," and make her appear very kind to him when you and I are with her; but what will become of the poor child when we are not present?"

"Why, he must take his chance, like other children,” said the husband.

"The other children have all some relation to enquire about them," said Mrs. Barnet; "but this poor boy is quite destitute of relation, friend, or protector. The poor creature himself told me that the only friend he ever had died last week."

"And who was he?" said Mr. Barnet. **

"A poor old footman," replied his wife.

"And are you making all this fuss, Jane, about a little friendless vagabond, whom nobody knows?" said Mr. Barnet.

1

"If this poor boy were known, and had friends, he would not stand in need of our protection," replied Mrs. Barnet. "That is very true," said Mr. Barnet," but on the other hand, it is very hard on us to be the only protectors of puor friendless vagabond boys.".

ཝཱ – ཀཉྩཱ ཡ

"This is but one boy," replied Mrs. Barnet; perhaps Providence will never throw another so particularly in our way.

7

"Why truly, Jane, you surprise me,” said the husband; "you seem to be as much concerned about this boy, as if he were your own."

"So would you, if you had only seen him; he is a most bewitching little fellow, and although he is somewhat pale and emaciated, I never in my life beheld a boy with finer features, and a more interesting countenance; he brought to my remembrance our own poor George, who is dead and gone."-Here she burst into tears, and was unable to speak for a few minutes.

"Pray do not afflict yourself for what cannot be helped,' said Mr. Barnet; "you know, my dear, we did all we could