otter woo 
 
UNIVERSITY OF 
 NORTH CAR OLINA 
 
 School of Librae? 
 Sci 
 
TTJE 
 
 LITTLE BEGGARS, 
 
 BY MRS. SHERWOOD, 
 
 Author of Little Henry and his Bearer, Hedge of Thorns, fyc. 
 
 See p. 8. 
 
 STEREOTYPED BY JAS. CONNER, NEAV-YORK. 
 
 NEW-YORK 
 
 PUBLISHED BY THE GEN. PROTESTANT EPISCOPAL 
 
 SUNDAY SCHOOL 
 
 UNION. 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2012 with funding from 
 
 University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill 
 
 http://archive.org/details/littlebeggarsOOsher 
 
THE MTTLE BEGGARS. 
 
 There is an old saying, that " honesty is the best 
 policy," a saying full of wisdom, and which is veri- 
 fied by every man's experience. But as little chil- 
 dren who have not lived long in the world cannot be 
 supposed to understand the weight of this sentiment, 
 I shall relate in this place a certain story with which 
 I became acquainted some time past when travelling 
 in a foreign country. 
 
 There is in Germany a range of lofty hills called 
 the Mountains of Hartz ; many of these hills are co 
 vered with woods,— woods which extend for many 
 miles around, and are in some places so thick with 
 underwood and tangled bushes, that it would be al- 
 most impossible for a traveller to make his way 
 through them. In the corner of one of these 
 forests, and about half way up one of the highest 
 hills, stand two cottages, built according to the Ger- 
 man fashion, of beams of timber painted black, the 
 intervals being filled with laths and plaister, and the 
 roof supplied with a thick and warm covering of 
 thatch. Each of these houses had a porch which 
 projected forward, and afforded a shelter to several 
 benches placed beneath, in which the family might 
 sit in warm weather, and take their meals or pursue 
 their work. 
 
 The smaller of these cottages stood somewhat 
 out from among the trees, and near a spring of fresh 
 and sparkling water, which poured down from the 
 
heights above, and failed not in the hottest season 
 to supply the inhabitants of the wood with that re- 
 freshment which is most desirable at such periods. 
 The larger cottage was, however, more deeply em- 
 bosomed in the wood, insomuch so that its white 
 walls and black timbers were hardly discoverable 
 from the little path, along which was the ordinary 
 passage from the nearest village to the highest re- 
 gions of the hills. About sixty years ago, these 
 cottages were inhabited by two families, one of 
 which, being pious, was as remarkable for its de- 
 cency, order, and honesty, as the other was for the 
 contrary. 
 
 The names of persons in Germany are so diffe- 
 rent from ours in England, that it might perplex 
 you were I to give them at full length ; I shall there- 
 fore content myself by calling the father of the 
 pious family Wilhelm, and his wife Anna, and giv- 
 ing the name of Hugo and Ursula to the man and 
 woman who lived in their neighbourhood. It was 
 in the cottage without the wood in which Wilhelm 
 and his family lived ; and this light and pleasant 
 dwelling, where the sound of rushing waters, and 
 the songs of the many birds who came to allay 
 their thirst at the flowing brook, supplied a perpe- 
 tual feast to the ear, was no doubt more suitable 
 to them than the dark and gloomy cottage which had 
 fallen to the lot of Hugo, in which many namejess 
 deeds might be done, unmarked by any other eye 
 than that of him of whom it is said, " Yea, the 
 darkness hideth not from thee, but the night shineth 
 as the day ; the darkness and the light are both 
 alike to thee." Ps. cxxxix. 12. 
 
 And now, because I do not mean to say much of 
 old Hugo and his wife Ursula, I shall content my- 
 self with observing, that nobody knew how the man 
 
procured his living, though most people supposed 
 that it was by stealing, or some other dishonest 
 means ; whilst Ursula, at the time of which I am 
 speaking, chiefly employed herself in going about 
 the country, dressed in an old petticoat patched 
 with every variety of rags, a gray cloak full of slits, 
 a dirty straw hat, and not unseldom carrying hei 
 little daughter, about four years of age, upon her 
 back ; whilst her son, who was as much as six years 
 older than his sister, ran by her side without shoes 
 or stockings, and scarcely covered from the heat of 
 the sun in summer, or the cold in winter, by the 
 wretched rags which hung from his shoulders. 
 
 When Ursula set out in this way, she often did 
 not return for several days, during which time the 
 cottage was commonly shut up ; and what she got 
 by these journies it was not easy to say, for no one 
 went into her house; and whatever her gains might 
 be, she never laid aside her ragged petticoat, or sup- 
 plied her children with decent garments of any kind. 
 
 And now, having given you an account of the 
 manner of life of this miserable family, or at least 
 told you all that was known of it by the neigh- 
 bours, I shall turn to more agreeable matters, and 
 we will take a view of Wilhelm in his pleasant cot- 
 tage, with his good wife and three neat and pious* 
 little children. 
 
 Wilhelm was a day labourer, and though he earn- 
 ed but little, yet he brought all he got to his wife, 
 who put every thing to the best advantage, and en- 
 deavoured as much as possible to add to her hus- 
 band's gains by her own little exertions — by culti- 
 vating with the help of her children the small gar- 
 den which was joined to the house — by gathering 
 wood for their use in the forest, and by spinning 
 and knitting her husband's stockings, and other lit- 
 1* 
 
6 
 
 tie contrivances, of which a careful woman knows 
 so well how to avail herself. 
 
 There are many persons in Germany who have 
 very wrong notions of the religion of Christ, and 
 who, departing from the appointed means of ad- 
 dressing God the Father in prayer through Christ, 
 use the mediation of the Virgin Mary and of the 
 Saints. And close by the cottage of Wilhelm, un- 
 der the shade of a wide spreading elm, there was 
 actually a little chapel, where through an iron grate 
 might be seen a figure of the Virgin, of stone, and 
 four angels of the same materials kneeling round 
 as in the act of prayer. Wilhelm, however, never 
 went near this chapel, but every Sabbath day ac- 
 companied his wife and children to a place of wor- 
 ship in the village, which was but an English mile 
 from his house ; in which place this little family en- 
 joyed the privilege of hearing the true word of the 
 Lord from a faithful Minister of the reformed 
 church, that is, of the church which, having re- 
 nounced all false worship, has adopted that perfect 
 faith which is alone derived from the Bible. 
 
 The remainder of the Sabbath was spent by Wil- 
 helm in instructing his children in the things of the 
 Lord ; and as this had been his practice from their 
 earliest infancy, at the time when Albert, his eldest 
 son, was twelve years of age, and his daughter Em- 
 ma in her eleventh year, he not only enjoyed the 
 pleasure of seeing them capable of reading the 
 Word of God, but of knowing that they were well 
 acquainted with many passages in this Holy Book, 
 whereby he trusted that, with the Divine blessing, 
 they would be rendered wise unto salvation, through 
 faith which is in Christ Jesus. Neither had this 
 excellent father less delight in his youngest child, 
 little George, who, though scarcely five years of age, 
 
could repeat many hymns, and nearly the whole of 
 the Catechism of the ancient Waldenses, of which 
 his father had a copy, and which was called by ex- 
 cellence the Noble Lesson. Well would it be for 
 poor labouring men in this country if they would fol- 
 low the example of this obscure German; for although 
 those are highly to be commended who, not being 
 themselves able to instruct their children on the 
 Sabbath, are diligent and careful in sending them to 
 a place of instruction, yet those do better who de- 
 vote their own time to this precious work, who em- 
 ploy all their leisure on this holy clay in teaching 
 their children the blessed word of God, and who 
 continually lead the uncertain steps of their tender 
 little ones towards the house of prayer. 
 
 It may be supposed that these excellent parents 
 did not allow their young ones to associate much 
 with Stephen and Margot, the children of their 
 neighbour Hugo ; nevertheless, they could not be 
 prevented from sometimes meeting them in the 
 forest, and interchanging a few words with them. 
 
 It happened one day in the spring of the year, 
 that Wilhelm being at work, and his wife gone to 
 the village, where she expected to be detained till 
 evening, their three children, who were left alone, 
 having smothered the glowing embers on the hearth 
 with ashes, and locked the door of the house, went 
 out into the wood to gather sticks, which they 
 formed into bundles and placed together in heaps, 
 till their father should be at liberty to bring them 
 home in his barrow. 
 
 The privilege of supplying themselves with fuel 
 from the forest was allowed them by the lord of 
 the manor, and they were therefore innocently em- 
 ployed in endeavouring to collect it ; their mother 
 had promised to give each of them a cake of white 
 
8 
 
 bread on her return if she found that they had 
 worked well, and being encourao-ed by this prospect, 
 and the wish of pleasing their dear parent, they 
 laboured hard till noon, when being somewhat tired 
 they sat down on a mossy bank under the trees, and 
 took the dinner which their mother had prepared for 
 them, from a napkin in which she had folded it. 
 It consisted of coarse brown bread, on which a few 
 curds were spread, and this very plain and ordinary 
 fare was sweetened to the little children by their 
 previous labour and humble habits. 
 
 Whilst these little people of the wood were thus 
 enjoying their pleasant repast, and were watching, 
 as they sat at ease on their mossy couch, two or 
 three beautiful butterflies who were playing among 
 the flowers at their feet, suddenly they heard a foot- 
 step, and in a few minutes Ursula appeared coming 
 towards them from the interior of the forest. 
 
 Her tall, thin, and upright figure, first showed it- 
 self where the branches of the trees formed a kind 
 of archway, or long shadowy passage, which wound 
 away into the depths of the wood. She wore as 
 usual her petticoat of many colours and her gray 
 cloak, but her straw hat hung behind her head, 
 being fastened in that situation by the strings which 
 were tied under her chin, and on her head she had a 
 large bundle closely fastened up, which appeared to 
 be heavy. She came forward, turning neither to 
 the right nor left, with a steady even step ; and when 
 she entered into the more open part of the wood, 
 and near the little family of Wilhelm, they per- 
 ceived that she was followed by Stephen and Mar- 
 got, padding after her without shoes or stockings, 
 and finding it difficult with their short and quick 
 steps to keep pace with the apparent slow yet regu 
 lar progress of their mother. 
 
9 
 
 The children of Wilhelm had always entertained 
 an extreme dread of Ursula ; they therefore, as she 
 came on, drew closer to each other, and little 
 George contrived to insert himself between his elder 
 orother and sister, as in the place of the greatest 
 security in the absence of his mother ; but Ursula 
 came on, and was for a moment in a direct line with 
 the affrighted children, and then passed forward to 
 her own house, without giving any other indication 
 of her having seen her little neighbours than a slight 
 motion of contempt, which agitated her upper lip 
 and the lower part of her nostrils, at the moment of 
 her being nearest to them. But though Ursula did 
 not think it worth her while to take the slightest no- 
 tice of the little company as she passed, it was not 
 so with Stephen ; for when he came up to the chil- 
 dren he stood quite still, and having looked at them 
 for a moment, he exclaimed, in a contemptuous tone, 
 " Bread and sour curds !" concluding with a loud 
 laugh. 
 
 " Well," said Albert, flushing with indignation 
 "and what then, — what can be better?" "Pasty," (re 
 turned Stephen, in a provoking tone,) "boar hams, 
 and larded pullets." " What are those 1" said Al- 
 bert. " They are what you know nothing about," 
 replied Stephen laughing ; " folks who stay always 
 at home shut up in a wood and reading good books, 
 seldom know much of such things," and he laughed 
 again in a manner very provoking to Albert, and 
 was joined in his laugh by his little sister, who held 
 him by the hand. This little girl might have been 
 counted a lovely child had she not been ragged and 
 sun-burnt, and her head and part of her face covered 
 with a quantity of uncombed hair, which being na- 
 turally crisp and inclined to curl, stood up above her 
 srnall features like the feathers of the hooded owl ; 
 
10 
 
 added to which, the total neglect of her education 
 having left her without an idea of her God or her 
 duty, her face was in consequence wholly without 
 meaning excepting when she was pleased, and then 
 she suddenly passed from extreme gravity to a loud 
 laugh, often accompanying her laughter with a 
 jumping motion, which at this time greatly increased 
 the displeasure of Albert, who was naturally of a 
 hot temper, although this temper had been much 
 corrected by judicious management of his parents, 
 who had not unseldom laid before him the sinfulness 
 of yielding to angry passions ; for it is written in 
 the Holy Scriptures, " Cease from anger and forsake 
 wrath, fret not thyself in any wise to do evil." Psal. 
 xxxvii. 8. 
 
 However, this daf, when he heard the mocks and 
 taunts of Stephen, and saw the wild grimaces of 
 Margot, he broke out into a violent fit of anger, 
 and had taken up a stick, intending to strike Stephen, 
 had not his sister held his arm, using all the force 
 she possessed, and at the same time saying, " For 
 shame, brother, what would our mother say if she 
 were to see you V J 
 
 " Oh, don't hold him back," said Stephen, " I 
 wish he would strike me, and then I would let him 
 know that I am as good as he is, though I am not 
 dressed so like a gentleman ;" and then, laughing 
 and putting his hands to his sides, " but I am as well 
 fed as he any how," he added, " thanks to these rags 
 which he despises so much, and the wry faces and 
 dismal looks which I can put on when I have a 
 mind." 
 
 " Oh, Stephen," replied Emma, whilst she drew 
 her brother down upon the grass by her side, 
 and still held his arm, " how can you boast of that 
 which ought to be your shame'?" 
 
11 
 
 " Shame," repeated Stephen, " shame, what do 
 
 vou mean 
 
 ?" 
 
 " Why," returned Emma, " of the life you lead, 
 going about the country as you do, and pretending 
 those things which are not true." 
 
 " What things ?" asked Stephen. 
 
 " Going about begging, and stealing," added Al 
 bert, " you know very well what Emma means, only 
 you pretend not ; but tell me, I say, are not you 
 just returned from one of your begging journies ? 
 and if you have not been stealing as well as beg- 
 ging, it is only because nothing has come in your 
 way which you could get at without being found 
 out." 
 
 " For shame, brother," said Emma, " what right 
 have we to call our neighbours thieves f" 
 
 "Well," said Albert, " I will not call them thieves, 
 if that offends you, but I suppose they won't deny 
 that they are beggars." 
 
 " No, to be sure we will not," replied Stephen, 
 " we are beggars, and we glory in it ; it's the best 
 trade poor folks can follow ; beggars are not obli- 
 ged to dine on brown bread and sour sauce," and 
 again he laughed, and was again joined by his little 
 sister. 
 
 On which Albert's indignation rose, and I know 
 not what angry words he might have used, if Em- 
 ma had not put her hand over his mouth. 
 
 " Let him alone, let him alone," said Stephen, 
 "he is only spiteful because he knows what rare lives 
 we beggars lead, and how well we fare ; we have 
 many a feast, which you hard working pious folks 
 never taste ;" and with that he drew from a bag 
 which hung among the rags on his breast a piece of 
 cheese and a cake of the whitest bread. 
 
12 
 
 " Where did you get that ?* said Albert. 
 
 " Oh, where did I get this," returned Stephen, 
 " where, how, when ! not by stopping at home, not 
 by picking sticks. I got it by going from home, by 
 making wry faces, and telling dismal stories, by 
 limping on one leg, and putting my linger in my eye, 
 and talking of being famished, and saying I had no 
 father or mother, and that little sister and I had riot 
 a friend in the world ; and I told this long story to 
 some little master who was going to school, so he 
 pulled his satchel from his back and gave me his 
 dinner, and I put it into my satchel, and it will serve 
 me for supper : but I fear little master will be more 
 hungry before night than I shall be, for mother has 
 got something more relishing than this for dinner, 
 has not she, little one ? but this reminds me that we 
 must not stand here talking." So nodding familiarly 
 at Albert he ran off, his little sister padding after 
 him. 
 
 Stephen and Margot had scarcely turned their 
 backs on Wilhelm's children before Albert gave free 
 vent to his anger, neither sparing the words beggar, 
 thief, or liar ; and wishing that his sister had not 
 prevented him from giving Stephen such a beating 
 as he deserved. 
 
 " And now," added the angry boy, " he is gone to 
 his house to feed on his ill gotten goods, — look 
 where the chimney of old Hugo's cottage rises up 
 among the trees, just beside yonder oak. Look 
 now how the smoke curls thick from the mouth, — 
 there are rare doings, no doubt, now rcund yonder 
 hearth." 
 
 " Albert," said Emma, " now do not be so chafed 
 and fretted as you are about these poor people, re- 
 member the words which our father taught us last 
 
13 
 
 Lord's day, ' Fret not thyself because of evil 
 doers, neither be thou envious against the workers 
 of iniquity. For they soon shall be cut down like 
 the grass, and wither as the green herb.' Psalm 
 xxxvii. 1, 2. 
 
 " And as to those poor children, my heart aches 
 for them ; think what a father and mother they 
 have, think how miserable we should be if Hugo 
 and Ursula were our parents, instead of those we 
 have ; or only suppose that poor little George had 
 been born the child of Ursula instead of our mo- 
 ther." 
 
 " Oh !" said George, " I would not have had 
 her for my mother, I am sure I would not — her face 
 frightens me whenever I look at it, and I would al- 
 most as soon meet a wolf in the wood." 
 
 " Well then," returned Emma, " you ought to be 
 sorry for little Margot, and to pity her, and to pray 
 that God would take care of her, and not to look 
 angry at her as you did but now ; for there is one 
 thing, Albert," added she, turning to her elder bro- 
 ther, "which we ought to remember, that is, that we 
 are all naturally sinful ; there -is none that doeth 
 good, no not one ; and that if we do not go about 
 begging and telling lies, as Hugo's children do, it is 
 because our father and mother have brought us up 
 in another way, — and it is God who has given us 
 these parents ; so we owe it all to God that we are 
 not like Stephen and Margot, and we ought to thank 
 God, instead of being unkind to them." 
 
 " I know that you are right, Emma," said Albert, 
 " quite right, and that I am wrong ; but I hate beg- 
 gars and thieves, and that little jumping, grinning 
 thing provokes me so much." 
 
 The tears came into Emma's eyes when Albert 
 spoke these words, but she did not answer. 
 2 
 
14 
 
 " Why are the tears in your eyes, Emma ?" said 
 Albert, tenderly. 
 
 " I don't know," replied Emma, " but I don't like 
 you to speak unkindly of Margot. I remember 
 her when she was a little baby, and she was very 
 pretty then,— I once took care of her for several 
 days when her mother was sick, and fed her with 
 the milk of our goat." 
 
 " Then I won't speak another unkind word about 
 her," said Albert, rubbing his sleeve across his eyes, 
 " and I won't say that I hate beggars and thieves, 
 but that I hate begging and stealing, because you 
 know father told us, that the Lord Jesus Christ 
 hates sin, but loves the sinner. And now, George," 
 he said, " now for our work." 
 
 Emma, Albert, and George, then went to work 
 again. Albert was furnished with a quantity of 
 small cord, which his father had cut into proper 
 lengths, and Albert's way was to spread one of these 
 pieces of cordon the ground, and then with his brother 
 and sister's help he soon gathered together as many 
 sticks as the cord would bind up, and when they 
 were thus fastened, the bundles of sticks were car- 
 ried to the heap ready to be brought home. Albert 
 had just finished one of these bundles, and was 
 carrying it to his heap, when Stephen and Margot 
 came out from the cottage to look for wood, ex- 
 claiming in some distress, " that their father was 
 just come in, and was in great haste for his dinner, 
 and there was no wood gathered to keep up the fire." 
 The complaints of Stephen were not intended to be 
 heard by Albert, but he did hear them, and remem- 
 bering what his sister had just said to him, he took 
 up the bundle of sticks which he had last thrown 
 down, and making his way through the bushes to 
 Stephen, he begged him to accept of it. 
 
15 
 
 " And can't I gather sticks myself?" said Stephen, 
 who did not at first seem to be able to conceive how 
 Albert could intend him this kindness. 
 
 " Yes," said Albert, " but are not you in a hurry?" 
 
 " To be sure I am," said Stephen, brightening 
 up, " for when father comes home we must all run, 
 mother and all, therefore I take this kindly of you, 
 Albert, and shall be glad to do you a good turn 
 when it is in my power." 
 
 Stephen then took the sticks and ran back to the 
 cottage, whilst Wilhelm's children went back to their 
 work. 
 
 In the evening, when Anna returned from the vil- 
 lage, her children gave her an account of all that 
 had passed during the day, and Albert was com- 
 mended for his kindness respecting the sticks ; 
 " who knows," said she, " but that by showing af- 
 fection to these poor children, you may be the means 
 of making 1 them understand that religion is a most 
 beautiful and desirable thing, and that which renders 
 little children more happy and amiable than all 
 other things beside ; dishonest ways, my dear chil- 
 dren, may seem to prosper for a time, and persons 
 who live by begging and stealing may sometimes 
 possess some things which poor honest people can- 
 not procure ; but these are the words of scripture, 
 Jeremiah xvii. 10, 11, — ' I the Lord search the 
 heart, I try the reins, even to give every man ac- 
 cording to his ways, and according to the fruit of his 
 doings.' i As the partridge sitteth on eggs and hatcheth 
 them not, so he that getteth riches and not by right, 
 shall leave them in the middle of his days, and at 
 his end shall be a fool.' And again, Psalm xi. 3, 4, 
 — ' The integrity of the upright shall guide them, 
 but the perverseness of transgressors shall destroy 
 them ; and riches profit not in the day of wrath, 
 
16 
 
 but righteousness delivereth from death.' There- 
 fore he who wishes to do well for his family, will 
 take care that they shall never i?e fed by the wages 
 of iniquity." 
 
 Before the family of Wilhelm had closed theii 
 doors for the night, Stephen and his little sister ap- 
 peared peeping in at a window of green glass, whose 
 small panes gave light to an inner room where was 
 Albert's bed. Albert, who was undressing himself, 
 saw them jumping and hopping before the window, 
 but he did not choose to speak to them, because he 
 knew his parents did not wish them to be encou- 
 raged to come about the house ; however, he asked 
 his mother to go out to them, and she presently re- 
 turned with a large bunch of early flowers, and a 
 few wild strawberries, which the poor little beggars 
 desired might be divided among the children. 
 
 t( And in return for which," said Albert's mother, 
 " let us remember to pray for them whenever we 
 kneel down to address our Maker." 
 
 The next morning, when Wilhelm went out to 
 bring in the wood which his children had collected 
 the day before, he saw that Hugo's door was shut, 
 and the windows closed, neither was there any 
 smoke rising from the chimney; and from that time 
 till many months had passed away, nothing more 
 was heard of Hugo and his family. 
 
 The little beggars were still however remembered 
 in the daily prayers of Wilhelm and his family. 
 And the nosegay was -still recollected, long after the 
 flowers of which it was composed had faded into 
 dust. 
 
 Now it was so common a thing for Hugo's family 
 all to be out for several days, and even weeks, in 
 fine seasons, that Wilhelm and his wife, when they 
 first missed them, felt no concern about them ; but 
 
17 
 
 when week went on after week, and month after 
 month, they began to be troubled about them, and 
 though they had always been bad neighbours, to 
 feel some anxiety lest they should come to any evil. 
 
 And now, as the wonder of their long absence 
 became daily greater, Anna took occasion one day, 
 when business called her to the market in the vil- 
 lage, to make some inquiries respecting her lost 
 neighbours, from such persons as she thought most 
 likely to give her satisfaction. 
 
 " Good woman," said one, to whom she put the 
 question, to wit, if he knew aught of the family of 
 Hugo, " you are inquiring after those who are not 
 worth the trouble ; — as to old Hugo, we know little 
 of him, but he herds, no doubt, with the worst of 
 people ; nevertheless, as he goes farther a-field than 
 his wife, his exploits are less public, at least in this 
 place, than her's. But beggary and deception are 
 the whole business of the woman, and she carried 
 on her trade hereabouts with no small success till 
 her name became notorious, and the sight of her 
 ragged cloak and patched petticoat was enough to 
 drive out charity from every heart. On which, 
 when she found herself detected every where, she 
 ook to send her little ones in her place, putting 
 .hem upon such tricks as could hardly be conceived 
 by any honest person. Thus for awhile she prospered 
 through this new device, but even this must needs 
 grow stale after a while ; and no doubt she has found 
 it so, and is gone to some other country, where she 
 may practise all her old tricks over again." 
 
 Such was the answer which Anna got from one ; 
 and another, to whom she put the same question, 
 made her a reply much to the same purpose ; and so 
 on to a third, and a fourth : till at length being 
 ashamed of seeming to care for such disreputable 
 2* 
 
18 
 
 persons, she returned home as ignorant as she went 
 out. 
 
 Thus passed the summer, whilst Albert, and Em- 
 ma, and little George, grew and flourished, and be- 
 came every day greater comforts to their parents. It 
 is true, that their clothes were coarse, but they were 
 whole and clean ; their food was of an ordinary 
 kind, but it was plentiful and wholesome ; and if 
 they worked hard, their sleep was refreshing, and 
 they awoke in the morning healthy and refreshed. 
 In the mean time, the flowers of spring had given 
 way to those of summer, and those of summer to 
 the more gaudy flowers of autumn ; the blossoms in 
 the orchards had become fruit, and the fruit was 
 housed and gathered ; the fields had become white 
 with harvest, and the corn had been stored up ; but 
 still no one opened the door of Hugo's house, or 
 lighted the fire upon the hearth. 
 
 " I should like to see Stephen again," said Al- 
 bert, one day, to Emma, " and that little jumping 
 thing by his side. Poor Stephen ! I wonder what 
 is become of him." 
 
 " Ah, you may well say poor Stephen," said Al- 
 bert's mother, " he is an unfortunate little boy. 1 
 have known his mother long ; I am less acquainted 
 with his father. We were both young women when 
 we were married and became neighbours, and at 
 that time she often used to come into our house, and 
 talk to me as I sat at work : but her principles then 
 were very bad ; she had no fear of God, and used 
 to speak with disrespect of the laws of her country. 
 She also hated work; and though she loved the good 
 things which can only be procured in a creditable 
 way by the labour of the hand by such poor peo- 
 ple as we are, yet she would have it that she could 
 get much more by going about the country and tell- 
 
19 
 
 ing lamentable tales to excite people's pity, than by 
 honest and regular labour. In vain did I try to 
 persuade her that she was taking the wrong way, 
 and that she would in the end be made to feel the 
 consequence of these evil practices ; and in vain 
 did your good father read to her what is said on 
 these subjects in the Holy Scriptures. Poor Ursu- 
 la was not one who heeded the Bible, for she was a 
 papist, and believed that the priest had power to 
 absolve her from all her sins. So after a while we 
 ceased to argue with her, or indeed to hold discourse 
 with her on any other subject ; for when we found 
 that she was quite hardened in her evil ways, and 
 began to be talked of about the country, it became 
 dangerous for us to have any connexion with the 
 family, or to be seen within the doors of the house. 
 Nevertheless, there is one duty which we may per- 
 form for these poor people, and that is, we may re- 
 member them in our prayers, and that I trust we 
 shall not neglect." 
 
 The good mother then went on to point out to 
 her children that they were by nature no better than 
 Hugo and his family ; and on this occasion she 
 failed not to speak to them of the natural depra- 
 vity of the heart of man, and to show that when 
 one man was made to differ in any respect from 
 another, it was merely the effect of the free gracefof 
 God, and not of his own endeavours. And then, 
 aking the Noble Lesson as her pattern, she laid be- 
 fore her children a short outline of the scheme of 
 salvation by Christ. She first spoke of the nature 
 and power of God, and pointed out that in the unity 
 of God there are three persons, namely, God the 
 Father, £od the Son, and God the Holy Ghost. 
 Showing how these divine persons are equally and 
 distinctly engaged in the restoration of the sinner 
 
20 
 
 to holiness and happiness ; endeavouring as much 
 as in her lay, to make them sensible that all those 
 spiritual blessings, whereby one sinful creature is 
 made in any degree superior to another, are receiv- 
 ed wholly and entirely through the favour of the 
 Almighty, as the Apostle speaks to the children of 
 God, in Ephesians ii. 8 — 10. 
 
 In this manner Anna conversed with her children 
 on the occasion above described, and no doubt, 
 whenever mention was made of the lost family, all 
 her discourse tended in the same degree to lead them 
 to distinguish and shun their faults, without encou- 
 raging in them any feelings of hatred and dislike. 
 
 It was not many days after this conversation that 
 an old pedlar, a very decent man, who had been ac- 
 customed to travel th© country for many years, call- 
 ed at the cottage of Wilhelm, to beg a night's lodg- 
 ing for himself, and a corner of the cottage fbr his 
 pack. 
 
 Few years had passed since Wilhelm and his wife 
 had inhabited the cottage in the wood, in which this 
 poor man had failed to make them a visit, being 
 sure of a hearty welcome, and the best refreshment 
 which the house could afford. 
 
 It was always a day of joy to the children when 
 this visitor appeared, not only because he common- 
 ly presented each of them with some trifle from his 
 stores, but because he had many curious adventures 
 to relate, such as children love to hear, and such as 
 travellers are accustomed to encounter. 
 
 At this time it was to be expected that the dis- 
 course should run upon the extraordinary mystery 
 which hung upon the family of Hugo, which, Anna 
 informed the old man, had not been lieardTof in the 
 neighourhood for many months. 
 
 " Say you so ? M said the pedlar, " then I can give 
 
21 
 
 you some tidings of them. Hugo himself will 
 scarcely be seen again in this part of the world, 
 for I have reason to think he has found it necessary 
 to take himself beyond the reach of those who 
 would have taken cognizance of his vile actions : — 
 and as to Ursula, I am much mistaken if I did not see 
 her about two months ago, sitting under a hedge by 
 the w r ay side, near a village as much as forty miles 
 from this place : what business had brought her so 
 far I know not, but she looked miserably sickly, and 
 covered with rags, and two unhappy children were 
 seated by her side. She was, no doubt, still follow- 
 ing her old mode of life, begging, stealing, and tell- 
 ing fortunes, sometimes being full of money, and 
 sometimes without a penny ; sometimes living in riot 
 and drunkenness, and sometimes enduring long and 
 severe abstinence ; not considering that the little 
 gains which she may have to boast of will all melt 
 away as waters which run continually ; whilst the 
 afflictions of the lot which she has chosen will be- 
 come permanent." 
 
 Wilhelm and Anna were much troubled by the 
 account which the pedlar gave of their former 
 neighbours, being particularly uneasy about the 
 children ; and the next morning when Anna opened 
 the door of her house, and looked towards the empty 
 cottage, before which the weeds, grass, and dried 
 leaves, had covered the path-way, she could not help 
 sighing, and thinking how often she had seen little 
 Stephen and Margot playing in that place ; — " and 
 what now," said she to herself, " is the situation 
 of these poor children 1" Albert and Emma too, 
 often spoke of them, and Albert wished that Stephen 
 might come back, in order that he might show him 
 some token of kindness, in return for his nosegay. 
 But autumn advanced, the vintage was gathered 
 
22 
 
 in, the last load of corn was housed in the barns, 
 and the forest assumed a variety of beautiful co 
 lours ; brown, and red, and yellow leaves hung on 
 every tree, and the brakes were filled with clusters 
 of red berries. At length the shrivelled leaves fell 
 from the branches of the forest, and the yew, the 
 holly, and the pine, became remarkable among the 
 leafless shafts of the surrounding trees. 
 
 Albert and Emma had almost ceased to say, " we 
 wonder why Stephen and Margot don't come back," 
 for they had left off expecting them ; but they fre- 
 quently exclaimed, " poor Stephen, poor Margot, 
 where are they now ? we hope they are not cold." 
 
 At length, one morning, when Wilhelm's family 
 arose, they observed that ail the summits of the 
 mountains which were visible were covered with 
 snow, which had fallen in the night ; and the next 
 day the snow began to fall in the lower regions, 
 whilst a cold wind blew from the north, and drifted it 
 as it fell in heaps against the northern sides of the 
 houses, the trees, the hedges, and the banks. The 
 snow continued to fall for several days ; when it 
 ceased, a sharp frost ensued, which lasted for many 
 weeks. In the mean time, heavy clouds and mists 
 darkened the air, and the sun did not appear. At 
 this time those poor persons, who were not provided 
 with a comfortable house and warm clothing, suffer- 
 ed severely ; but through the goodness of God, Wil- 
 helm was supplied with thrashing and other work, 
 which need not be interrupted by the frost ; and 
 Anna and her children were well provided with spin- 
 ning and other employment which could be pursued 
 under cover. They had also abundance of pota- 
 toes, of peas, and carrots, to make soup, and salt 
 pork to relish their vegetables, with many other 
 comforts not needful to enumerate, but for which 
 
23 
 
 they were filled with thankfulness to the mighty 
 Giver of all good things. 
 
 " I wish poor little* Margot had some of these," 
 said little George, one day whilst his brother was 
 taking the husks off some chesnuts, which he had 
 roasted for him in the ashes ; " and Stephen too," 
 said Albert ; " poor Stephen," said Emma, " I often 
 think of them, and wish that I had little Margot in 
 my bed at night, when I hear the wind whistle and 
 howl down the valley." 
 
 " I wish Ursula would die, or take herself off with 
 her old husband, and that Stephen and Margot 
 would come to live with us," added Albert. "Would 
 it not be better," said his mother, " if, whilst you 
 are wishing, Albert, you were to wish, or rather 
 pray, that it would please God to change the heart 
 of Ursula, and that she might be brought back tc 
 her house, and become an honest woman and a good 
 mother?" 
 
 Albert made no reply, but little George said, " 1 
 should like Margot to live here, if Emma woula 
 comb her hair." 
 
 "But then, George," said the mother, "you must 
 give her some of your clothes, and divide your 
 soup with her, and have less for yourself ; and yo 
 must give her half of your chesnuts, and have 
 fewer yourself : poor people like us can only do 
 good by denying ourselves." 
 
 " I think," said Albert, " that if God would help 
 me, I could do a great deal for poor Stephen." Em- 
 ma did not speak, but she had tears in her eyes. 
 This night the wind blew bitter cold, and the snow 
 fell in large flakes ; nevertheless, towards morning 
 the wind ceased, and the frost continued : the skv 
 
 was clear from clouds, and the sun arose above the 
 hills, and showed all the glories of creation. Now, 
 
24 
 
 clothed in a mantle of snow, white, and pure, and 
 sparkling, the trees, even to their smallest branches, 
 were covered with small drops of frozen water, 
 which resembled diamonds ; and where the brook 
 fell over the rocks close to Wilhelm's door, were 
 long icicles hanging from the little projecting points 
 of the stone. Wilhelm's children were delighted to 
 see the sun again, and to be able to open the door 
 of the cottage, without being exposed to the sharp 
 wind, sweeping round from the north. 
 
 After they had breakfasted, it being still very early 
 in the morning, their mother bade her two elder chil- 
 dren to take a bag and go to a mill, which was 
 about a mile distant in the interior of the forest, in 
 order to get some meal, of which they were in need. 
 " You will find the path beat," said she, " for this is 
 the high way to the mill from the village." 
 
 Albert and Emma, who had long been confined 
 to the cottage, were delighted at this proposal, and 
 set off with no small joy to obey their mother's com- 
 mand. They passed by the solitary cottage of Hu- 
 go, against the door of which the snow was drifted 
 so high, that the door- way was almost choaked with 
 it ; hence they passed into the more open part of 
 the wood, where they had last met Stephen and 
 Margot, and then entered under the arched walk 
 whence Ursula had issued when last they saw her. 
 
 They had passed a little way down this path, when 
 Albert stopped to fasten his shoe, the string of which 
 was broken : this must needs cause a little delay, 
 and whilst he was thus employed, Emma stood 
 by him, and they were both silent : at length Em- 
 ma spoke; "how lovely," said she, "do these 
 woods look to day, brother, all covered with wa- 
 tery diamonds, and glittering in the sun with blue, 
 and purple, and gold. They remind me of what 
 
25 
 
 they say of the sparkling gardens of the fairy Mor 
 gana ; but one need not go to fairy land to see won- 
 ders ; — and hush ! do you not hear the distant sound 
 of the eattle and sheep lowing and bleating down 
 in the village ? and the cocks answering each other 
 from the farm yards ; one — two — three ; — and the 
 last is so far off that he can scarcely be heard !"By 
 this time Albert had put his shoe in order, and 
 jumping up from the ground on which he had been 
 kneeling, he prepared to pursue his walk, at the 
 same time pointing out to his sister other wonders 
 of the wood which we will not stop to enumerate. 
 Thus hand in hand they walked on till they came to 
 a part of the wood where four ways met, in the cen- 
 tre of which, on the top of a small mound, was a 
 wooden cross, and behind it a place where a little 
 rock, covered with creepers, hanging over the road, 
 was calculated to afford some small shelter from the 
 wind and snow. The path which the children had 
 passed had hitherto been tolerably easy, being shel- 
 tered by the tre^s to the north ; but in this place 
 the snow had drifted high against the mound, and 
 the road was so much obstructed, that Emma and 
 Albert were brought to a stand. 
 
 " Our mother told us not to go on if we found 
 any difficulty," said Emma. 
 
 " True," replied Albert, " but what will she do 
 without the meal 1 At any rate, let us try to get 
 round the mound, and if we find the road deep be- 
 yond it we will return ;" so saying, he gave his 
 hand to Emma, and tried to get her round the mound 
 towards the east, in which direction their road lay ; 
 and having first tried the north side, which was im- 
 passable, he attempted the south side, but found 
 nearly the same difficulty. However, not liking to 
 give up the adventure, he directed Emma to stand 
 3 
 
26 
 
 still where she was, whilst he climbed to the top e*' 
 the little hillock, which he did not effect without 
 falling back several times. At length, however, 
 taking a violent spring, he obtained hold of the 
 cross, and there held himself on the summit of the 
 little ascent, whilst he looked forward towards the 
 road which he desired to travel : suddenly, how- 
 ever, as he stood, he uttered a loud cry, and the next 
 moment he sprung down from the cross, and was hid 
 from his sister by the mound ; and though she called 
 to him, and she still heard his voice, she could not 
 distinguish a word he said. 
 
 Emma now, in the greatest terror, attempted to 
 climb the mound, but although she was scarcely 
 less active than Albert, she could not succeed ; still, 
 however, she heard the voice of Albert, and waiting 
 another minute she saw him coming towards her, 
 not over the mound, but round the southern side of 
 it, using efforts which might have been thought be- 
 yond the power of a boy of his age. In his arms 
 he carried some heavy weight ; bnt what with the 
 difficulty of stepping through the snow, and the 
 weight he carried, he seemed unable to speak, and 
 his face, even to his very forehead, was flushed with 
 heat. He came near to Emma, who advanced to 
 meet him as far as she could, but he called to her to 
 keep back, directing her to sit down on the stump 
 of a tree which was near at hand, and before she 
 had time to ascertain what he carried in his arms, he 
 had laid little Margot on her lap, wrapped in the 
 well known ragged coat which belonged to poor 
 Stephen, but so cold, so pale, so still, that Emma, 
 screaming with horror, cried out, " she is dead, 
 quite dead. Oh, poor little Margot !" " No, no," 
 said Albert, " not dead, not dead, I hope. Run, 
 run, Emma ; take her home, lay her in my mother's 
 
27 
 
 arms, and come back as fast as you can, and bring 
 a blanket for Stephen. No, no, (he added,) don't 
 do so, stay with Margot, and send my mother to 
 help me with Stephen ; don't stay to kiss her, but 
 wrap her in your petticoat, and run with her home." 
 " But oh, Albert," said the weeping Emma, " she 
 is dead ; her lips are cold, cold as snow ; she does not 
 breathe." " No, no," said Albert, " she is not 
 dead ;" then, raising her from her seat, she ran back 
 to the cottage, whilst he with one violent spring 
 reached the summit of the mound, and the next mo 
 ment had descended to the other side. 
 
 Emma could never recollect how she got back 
 to the cottage ; one thing only she remembered, 
 that about half way between that and the mound 
 she met a labouring man, and that she had presence 
 of mind to tell him where Albert was, and to beg 
 him to hasten to his assistance. Anna was sitting 
 at her spinning wheel when Emma burst into the 
 cottage, and, almost fainting from her violent efforts, 
 ran up to her mother, and placed the cold, pale child 
 in her arms. " Oh, mother, mother," she exclaimed, 
 " she is dead, she does not breathe. Oh what shall 
 we do ? and Stephen too is dead ; Albert cannot 
 bring him here without help ; you must go imme- 
 diately." 
 
 Wilhelm's wife, though dreadfully shocked, did 
 not wait to ask any questions, but directing Emma 
 to warm a blanket, she stripped the cold and wet 
 clothes from the child, and had the pleasure to find 
 that there was some little warmth about her heart. 
 
 " She is not quite dead, Emma," said she, " but 
 you must not bring her to the fire ;" so saying, she 
 laid her on a bed in Albert's little room, and, having 
 directed Emma to rub her with all her strength, 
 whilst little George was to warm his flannel petti- 
 
23 
 
 coat and woollen coat, and place it on her stomach, 
 she ran out to help Albert. 
 
 And now we may imagine we see poor little Mar- 
 got stretched on a bed, and the trembling Emma rub- 
 bing her cold limbs, whilst little George busied him- 
 self in warming the clothes which they laid over 
 her stomach. For some moments, however, the 
 child gave no signs of life ; but at length she heaved 
 a kind of faint sigh, and opened her mouth with a 
 sort of gasping motion ; on which Emma burst into 
 a violent fit of sobbing, but continued her endea- 
 vours, till something like the warmth of life was 
 restored to her limbs. Her eyes still, however, re- 
 mained closed, and her breathing was hardly per- 
 ceived, when she heard her mother's voice, with 
 that of Albert and the labouring man, who assisted 
 to bring in poor Stephen. 
 
 The poor boy was laid on the bed, having been 
 stripped of the few wet rags with which he was 
 hardly covered, and the same means used with him 
 as with his sister, whom Anna had now taken into 
 her bosom. It was soon to be perceived that Mar- 
 got was likely to recover, for after a while a fine 
 glow spread itself over her body, and after many 
 gaspings and deep sighs she began to breathe freely ; 
 and after a while she opened her eyes, and was able 
 to swallow a little warm milk, though she seemed to 
 know no one about her. 
 
 But poor Stephen remained long insensible, cold, 
 and still, though it was found, when a feather wa3 
 held to his nostrils, that he had not quite ceased to 
 breathe. The labouring man, however, who had 
 helped to bring him in, having rubbed him for a long 
 time with snow, and a small quantity of spirits be- 
 ing put into his mouth, he at length gave some signs 
 of returning life ; but it was not till evening that he 
 
29 
 
 seemed to breathe freely, or that any one dared to 
 hope that he would recover ; still, however, he 
 seemed not to know any thing that was passing, and 
 although he opened his eyes, he did not take any 
 notice. 
 
 When Wilhelm returned from his work, and Anna 
 heard his step in the porch, she ran out to prepare 
 him for what had happened, to tell him what he 
 must expect to see. 
 
 The tears started in the poor man's eyes as she 
 spoke. " Well," he said, " please God, these little 
 ones may recover, and that these lost ones may be 
 found indeed /" (by which he meant found of him 
 whom they never sought;) " and then we shall have 
 no reason to lament this day's work." And thus 
 speaking he stepped over the door sill, and the first 
 object he beheld was Emma sitting in the chimney- 
 corner with Margot on her knee. 
 
 " Well, my little one," said the good man, " so 
 you have found a home at last." Margot lifted her 
 languid head from Emma's shoulder, and said, 
 "father, are you come back again ?" " Who do you 
 take me for, little one V asked Wilhelm. The 
 child did not answer his question, but added, " mo- 
 ther is dead ; they put her in the ground, and they 
 have taken away poor Stephen." " No," said Wil- 
 helm, " no, Stephen is not gone ;" and taking the 
 child in his arms, wrapped as she was in a blanket, 
 he carried her into the little room where Stephen 
 lay, and where Albert and the poor labourer were 
 still watching by him. 
 
 As soon as Margot saw her brother, she uttered 
 such a cry of joy, as made the whole cottage ring, 
 and had nearly sprung from the arms of Wilhelm 
 on her brother's bed. At the sound of her voice 
 Stephen opened his eyes, stretched out his feeble 
 3* 
 
30 
 
 arms, and burst into tears. From that time he 
 seemed to feel great relief, and was able to be moved 
 from his bed whilst it was warmed and dried : after 
 which he was put into it again, and having been re- 
 freshed with some warm milk, and his little sister 
 laid by him, the poor little beggars soon fell into a 
 deep sleep ; whilst Wilhelm and family, who had 
 eaten little that day, sat down to a comfortable sup- 
 per, to which they invited the kind labourer, who 
 had lost a day's work in order to assist the unfor- 
 tunate little wanderers ; but who, as he often was 
 heard to say, never missed that day's work, but 
 found the benefit of it in a thousand blessings which 
 were afterwards shed upon him ; for it was in Wil- 
 helm's house, and during the family worship which 
 took place after supper, that he first felt the power 
 and the importance of true religion, and was made 
 to know that man liveth not by bread alone, but by 
 every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of 
 God. 
 
 Before Wilhelm and his wife went to bed, they 
 visited the bed of the little wanderers, and found 
 them sweetly sleeping in each other's arms, whilst 
 a gentle glow had spread itself over their whole 
 bodies. 
 
 In the morning Stephen was able to give some 
 account of himself. It appears that his mother had 
 pursued her wicked habits of begging, stealing, and 
 other evil practices, till her character becoming no- 
 torious in every place where she resorted, she was 
 actually reduced to such need that, having laid a 
 long time in a lingering state, supported by what 
 her little children could earn by begging, she at 
 length expired under a shed in a farmer's yard, and 
 was put into the ground with little ceremony ; the 
 words of scripture, which were spoken of a wicked 
 
king of Isra< 
 case : Jere- 
 
 up 
 
 bo 
 
 En 
 
 said 
 
 ask 
 
 mise 
 
 Almu 
 
 these 
 
THE CHILD OF POVERTY 
 
 Lord, I am poor, yet hear my call ; 
 
 Afford me daily bread ; 
 Give me at least the crumbs that fall 
 
 From tables richly spread. 
 
 Thou canst for all my wants provide, 
 And bless my homely crust : 
 
 The ravens cry, and are supply'd, 
 And ought not I to trust? 
 
 Behold the lilies, how they grow, 
 Though they can nothing do ; 
 
 And will not God, who clothes them so. 
 Afford me raiment too ? 
 
 But seeing, Lord, thou dost withhold 
 
 The riches some possess, 
 Grant me what better is than gold — 
 
 Thy grace and righteousness. 
 
 O may I heavenly treasures find, 
 And choose the better part : 
 
 Give me an humble, pious mind, 
 A meek and lowly heart. 
 
 Forgive my sins, my follies cure, 
 And grant the grace I need ; 
 
 And then, though I am mean and pooi'j 
 I shall be rich indeed. 
 
 Page 34. No. 2104. 
 
35 
 LOVING OUR NEIGHBOURS AS OURSELVES. 
 
 William Clarke was the son of a poor weaver, 
 who was a good man himself, and took great pains 
 to teach his children to be good, by teaching them 
 to read the Bible and their catechisms and other 
 good books, and taking them to church to worship 
 God, and hear his holy word, and by sending them 
 to the Sunday school, that they might learn to un- 
 derstand what they read and what they heard at 
 church, 
 
 One day as William's father was at work in his 
 loom, his mother was getting their dinner ready, 
 and his elder sister was helping her. Mrs. Clarke 
 had just given a bowl of supawn to little Sally, who 
 was very hungry, and began to eat it directly ; al- 
 though she was not so selfish as not to be willing 
 now and then to give a little to her pussy. 
 
 Little William, then just seven years old, came 
 running in quite out of breath, — " Oh, mother," 
 said he, " do come and see poor neighbour Blake, 
 she is very ill, and they have nothing to eat. Tom- 
 my Blake asked me to let him play at ball with me, 
 for he said he had no breakfast, and it would make 
 him forget he was hungry. I thought he had been 
 naughty, and asked him what he had been doing ; 
 but he said his mother was too sick to be able to go 
 to the squire's to work yesterday ; so there was no 
 bread left, and they had not eaten since yesterday 
 dinner-time. So, mother, I told him that if he 
 would come home with me, I was sure you would 
 give him some of our dinner to take to his mother, 
 for he loves her very dearly. But he said, his mo- 
 ther told him this morning not to come to our house, 
 for you had sent them things several times, and they 
 
36 
 
 ought not to trouble you so often. So when I found 
 he would not come, I thought I would run directly 
 and tell you ; for I just peeped in at the door, and I 
 saw Mrs. Blake, and she looks so ill, you cannot 
 think, and I am sure they would help us : and my 
 text that I had to learn in the gospel for last Sunday 
 was, ' Love thy neighbour as thyself,' and I know I 
 should not like to go without my breakfast, and 
 have no dinner too." Poor William then burst into 
 tears ; but, recollecting himself, he took the corner 
 of his pinafore and began to wipe his eyes. 
 
 " Well," said Mrs. Clarke, "don't cry, Witty ; as 
 soon as we have had our dinners we will go and 
 take some to poor widow Blake, and see what we 
 can do for her." So saying, she made haste to get 
 all ready as fast as she could. 
 
 Little Sally had listened very attentively ; she 
 got up, and while her mother was very busy, she 
 said, " Willy, dear, see, here's almost all my su- 
 pawn left ; come, let's go and take it to Tommy, for 
 he had no breakfast, and he's too hungry to wait 
 till we've done dinner." The mother, pleased to 
 hear this, did not stop them, and off went William 
 and Sally with the supawn, and begged Tommy to 
 eat it for breakfast, telling him mother would come 
 by and by, and bring them some dinner. 
 
 My dear children, do you learn texts from the 
 Bible, or the scripture proofs in your Sunday school 
 books ? Remember, it is written, " Be ye doers of 
 the word, and not hearers only ;" and also remem- 
 ber that text in the epistle, " As we have opportu- 
 nity, let us do good unto all men." (Gal. vi. 10.) 
 And we are to do this to show our love to Christ, 
 remembering his love in all that he has done and 
 suffered for poor sinners, that they might be brought 
 near to God. 
 
f^t^f-., 1 
 
 wsv 
 
 'trWt