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 " Zobel was washing a few clothes, while her husband, seated on the ground, .va* 
 dexterously making the slight baskets used by fishmongers and poulterers. The ntro.1 
 woman lay just within the tent, intently listening to .Miriam.
 
 THE AUTHOR OF "MARY POWELL.' 
 
 Good words are silver, but good deeds are gold. 
 A martyr's death is, more than equal to 
 The beat account of it. 
 
 J. E. JACKSON. Cecil and M(try. 
 
 LONDON: 
 iiRN'TLEV, NEW P,l TRLIXGTON STREET. 
 
 1860.
 
 WINCHESTER t 
 
 PRINTED BY HUGH BARCLAY, 
 HIGH STREET. 

 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 MICHAELMAS DAISIES - " - 1 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 TEA AND TOAST - - 19 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 VEAL PIE FOR TWO 36 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 HA1NAULT FOREST - - - 54 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 COUNTRY QUARTERS - 73 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 GREY NUNS - - 92 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 GIPSY TENTS - m 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 DR. GRACE - - - 130
 
 IV CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 PACK 
 
 TRANQUIL VALE - 148 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE TOWN-HALL - - 165 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 MARGARET - - 183 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 IS SEEING BELIEVING? - 199 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 BROTHER AND SISTER - - 21? 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 FORESHADOWS - 234 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 SHADOWS - - 253 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE HOUR BEFORE DAWN - r - 271
 
 Town and Forest. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 MICHAELMAS DAISIES. 
 
 All common things, each day's events, 
 
 That with the hour begin and end, 
 Our pleasures and our discontents, 
 
 Are rounds by which we may ascend. 
 
 LONGFELLOW, $t. Augustine's Ladder. 
 
 T~T was late, but not very late, on an autumn 
 afternoon. A few straggling sunbeams made 
 their way through the cracked, discoloured panes 
 of an attic window, close to which sat a meagre, 
 sallow young woman, busily pursuing some coarse, 
 heavy needle-work. 
 
 On an old deal table beside her were a large
 
 a Toivn and Forejl. 
 
 cracked teapot, an ounce paper of coarse tea, a 
 cup without a handle, a half-quartern loaf, two 
 tallow candles, a hank of thread, a ball of worsted, 
 and a black quart bottle. 
 
 The girl was making a sack. Presently she 
 rose, wearily threw it on a heap of others, and 
 then pulled off one of her ragged stockings, which 
 she began to mend. First, however, she drained 
 the contents of the bottle into the cup, and drank 
 it with avidity. It looked like water it was 
 water. 
 
 That 's a relief ! It relieved her. It was better 
 than gin. 
 
 Just as she was filling her needle, there was a 
 gentle tap at the door, followed by a gentle voice 
 saying, " Is any body here ? May I come in?" 
 
 The sack-maker started; for she was not ac- 
 customed to have her solitude interrupted. No 
 one save the owner of the house had ever come 
 to her in that attic, since she rented it. 
 
 Instead of answering, she pulled her wretched 
 shawl about her, and went to open the door
 
 Michaelmas Daifies. 3 
 
 herself. A healthy-looking young person stood 
 outside, carrying a small basket, and with some 
 flowers in her hand. 
 
 "I beg your pardon," said she, advancing a 
 step and no more, "but would you like these 
 Michaelmas daisies ? " 
 
 " I ? What use would they be to me ? " said 
 the sack-maker, surprised. 
 
 " Well, flowers are for pleasure rather than for 
 use, certainly; but I thought you might like a 
 few to make your room cheerful, as to-morrow is 
 Sunday. But perhaps you are not going to spend 
 it at home ? " 
 
 "Where else can I spend it?" returned the 
 sack-maker, bitterly. " I haven't a friend in the 
 world, and I 'm too shabby to go to church." 
 
 There was a pause. They looked wistfully at 
 one another. 
 
 "Then, you won't have the Michaelmas 
 daisies?" said the stranger. "Perhaps you don't 
 like them >" 
 
 " Oh yes I do," said the other, looking strangely
 
 4 Town and Foreft. 
 
 at the giver and then at the gift. And, suddenly, 
 she burst into tears. 
 
 " I 'm weak," said she, " and they put me 
 in mind " 
 
 "Of autumn, and of the country/' said the 
 other, after waiting for her to finish the sentence. 
 " Where shall I put them ? " entering the room 
 a little way, and looking round. 
 
 "I've nothing to put them in I. can't spare 
 the mug or tea-pot/' 
 
 " No, certainly ; nor yet the bottle. Ah, I 'in 
 sorry to see that /" 
 
 " Why need you be ? " cried the sack-maker 
 sharply. " Smell it ! There are no spirits ! It 's 
 my candlestick, and there's nothing in it now; 
 not even water." 
 
 " Never mind, I '11 fetch you something to 
 put the flowers in ; and some water too." 
 
 "Water's too scarce in this court to be 
 willingly parted with, except for drinking," said 
 the sack-maker. "They grudge it, even for 
 washing."
 
 Michaelmas Daifies. 5 
 
 "Poor tiling!" ejaculated the stranger. The 
 exclamation was murmured, rather than spoken; 
 yet it seemed to draw them closer together. 
 
 " But where 's your tea-kettle ? " she resumed. 
 
 "I haven't one. They fill my tea-pot down 
 stairs." 
 
 "And yours is so much too large for one 
 person, that the tea cannot draw nearly so well." 
 
 " That depends on how much you make ! 
 "Whether you've any thing else for dinner or 
 supper ! " 
 
 Again they looked wistfully at one another. 
 
 " What are you going to have for dinner, to- 
 morrow?" said the stranger. 
 
 "Tea; tea and dry bread." 
 
 "Oh! That won't do !" 
 
 "Then what's to be done?" returned the other 
 bitterly. "But I want to mend my stockings 
 before the sun goes down, if you'll let me. 
 When I light my candle, I must go to my 
 sacks." 
 
 " Don't they pay very poorly ? "
 
 6 Town and Fore/I. 
 
 " Very ; fivepence a day. And I pay eighteen- 
 pence a week for this attic." 
 
 " But that can't keep you ! " 
 
 " That 's why I 've sold my clothes." 
 
 "But the sack-makers ought to give you 
 more." 
 
 " I don't work for the sack-makers, I wish I 
 did ! They have their regular hands, and one of 
 them is ill, and gets me to do her work for her 
 till she is well. So it's only job-work, and of 
 course she must keep back a trifle for herself." 
 
 " What have you been ? " asked the stranger. 
 
 "What's that to you?" cried the other 
 sharply, " or to any one but myself ? " she added 
 in a softer voice. 
 
 "Certainly. Well, good-bye." 
 
 "Then, you're not going to leave the flowers?" 
 said the sack-maker, looking mortified. 
 
 " Oh yes, I am going to bring something that 
 will hold them. I will leave them on your table 
 meantime." 
 
 "But, perhaps, I shall be gone before you
 
 Michaelmas Daif.es. *j 
 
 come back. I am going to take back my 
 sacks." 
 
 "Leave your door unlocked, then, unless 
 you 're afraid." 
 
 "No, there 's nothing to rob/' said the sack- 
 maker sorrowfully. When her visitor had left 
 her, she did not immediately resume her stocking- 
 mending, but sat, vacantly looking at the opposite 
 wall, pondering who her visitor could be, and why 
 she came, till her eyes fell upon the flowers. 
 
 Then she might have said, with poor King 
 Edward the Second, " Behold, here is clean warm 
 water wherewith I may wash," for the tears 
 plentifully bedewed her face. Drying them 
 hastily, she resumed her work with great energy, 
 and was able to finish it just as it was growing 
 too dark for her to thread her needle. 
 
 To postpone lighting her candle, she then rolled 
 up her sacks into a bundle, beneath which she 
 staggered, and carried them off to the sick woman 
 who employed her. She was accustomed to 
 consider this woman a screw ; and, perhaps, not
 
 8 Town and Fore/I. 
 
 altogether without reason ; but something softer 
 in her heart than usual, this evening, made her 
 pity her when she found her tossing, alone and 
 feverish, on her bed in the absence of the girl who 
 attended to her; and while the old woman was 
 crustily counting out her fivepences, the sack- 
 maker swept her hearth, made up her fire, 
 smoothed her rumpled bedclothes, and shook 
 up her hot pillow. The old woman peered up 
 at her with a look that expressed some suspicion 
 of her motives ; but, just as the sack-maker was 
 leaving her, called sharply out 
 
 " Come back ! come back, I say ! " and pulling 
 the stocking-foot purse again from under her 
 pillow, took therefrom the smallest silver coin it 
 contained, and held it out to her, saying 
 
 " There 's a threepenny-bit for making me 
 comfortable ; but don't expect it again ! " 
 
 The sack-maker smiled, thanked her, and went 
 on her way. Going back, she bought three red 
 herrings a rich repast for the three next days. 
 She passed through the evening market, where,
 
 Michaelmas Daifles. 9 
 
 by gas-light, the butchers were selling morsels of 
 meat, that would not keep till Monday, cheap, to 
 thrifty housewives with large baskets on their 
 arms; but the sack-maker, rich with her three 
 herrings, did not envy them their pennyworths. 
 On reaching the squalid lodging-house where she 
 lived, she went straight to the woman to whom it 
 belonged, and paid her week's rent. The woman 
 gave her a shilling in change for her half-crown, 
 and told her that, in consideration of her punctual 
 payment, she might cook her dinner at the 
 kitchen-fire the next day, if she would not be 
 particular as to the time. The baker lived at the 
 corner of the street, bread was sevenpence a 
 quartern, and she owed him for three quarterns j 
 how could she pay for it out of a shilling ? But 
 he had his bills to pay, as she had hers ; it was 
 hard to keep him out of all, because she could not 
 pay all. She took him her shilling, and said, 
 "That is all I have, now I have paid my rent." 
 
 He took it rather reluctantly, and said, " Why 
 don't you get cheaper lodgings ? " 
 
 B2
 
 io Town and For eft. 
 
 " How can I?" she said. " I can't find any/' 
 
 " Why not share your attic with another poor 
 girl?" 
 
 "I've no bed!" 
 
 He gave a low whistle, and said, " Here, take 
 back half, I '11 trust you a little longer." 
 
 She gratefully took it, and other customers 
 coming in, she contented herself with a single 
 word, and look of thanks. Going back, she 
 thought, "I was wrong, I'm afraid, in buying 
 the herrings, while I owed for bread; but the 
 threepence came by chance, and I 'm so hungry ! " 
 
 On the stairs she met her unknown visitor 
 coming down, who said cheerfully, "I did not 
 know you would be so long, an<J waited for you 
 as long as I could, but you will find the flowers ; 
 and the gas-light from the butcher's over the way 
 enabled me to set them out nicely. Good night ! 
 I shall perhaps look in on you some day." And 
 she slipped away. 
 
 The sack-maker hastened up-stairs, and the 
 friendly gas-light, which had enabled her bene-
 
 Michaelmas Daifies. n 
 
 factress to place the flowers in water, enabled her 
 with surprise and delight, to see what else she had 
 done for her. 
 
 Firstly, the floor seemed to have been swept; 
 secondly, oh surprise! there was what looked at 
 first sight like a bed in the comer; but it was 
 only the bundle of unmade sacks neatly disposed 
 and covered with a neat, clean patchwork counter- 
 pane. Close to it was a brown earthen pan, 
 that made no bad washing-basin, with a clean, 
 though not new, coarse towel beside it. 
 
 The table was set in the middle of the room, 
 and covered with what looked like a table-cloth, 
 though it was only a piece of old, clean calico. 
 On this the great tea-pot was duly set, flanked by 
 the loaf ; but the loaf was in a chipped plate, and 
 the mug without a handle was superseded by a 
 damaged, but very usable cup and saucer. In a 
 gallipot, what luxury ! was a halfpennyworth of 
 milk. The Michaelmas daisies were set out in a 
 glass pickle-bottle; and, on a cracked cheese- 
 plate, were a small slice of Dorset butter, and
 
 1 2 Town and Foreft. 
 
 another of boiled bacon, flanked by a nearly 
 worn-out, but brightly cleaned knife. Beside 
 them, lay a small, much-used hymn-book, with 
 a flower-leaf stuck in it for a mark. And, neatly 
 folded on the only chair, an old, clean, warm 
 petticoat and pair of shoes. One of the candles 
 was duly installed in the bottle, with a box of 
 matches beside it. 
 
 Tears, tears of pleasure and gratitude filled the 
 sack-maker's eyes. She was so weak, that a little 
 tiling would make her cr\', and here were many 
 little things. But it was the attention, the kind- 
 ness, that she felt most, and that made her wipe 
 her eyes again and again, as she looked around 
 her ; and these are great things. 
 
 " So kind ! " she often said ; and then she 
 lighted her candle, that she might see everything 
 better, and then she put a little tea into her 
 tea-pot, and took it down to the kitchen to fill 
 it. When she had replaced it on her table, and 
 waited for the tea to draw, she again looked about 
 her with srrcat satisfaction.
 
 Michaelmas Daifies. 13 
 
 " Butter to my bread, and milk to my tea ! " 
 thought she. " Bacon, too ! Quite a meat tea \ 
 And to think of my having a nosegay, and a 
 book! Let me see what it is about, where the 
 mark is placed ah, this will supply the want of 
 a Bible to me to-morrow. I was hard up when 
 I sold that!" 
 
 And she read 
 
 " Commit thou all thy ways 
 To His unerring hands, 
 To His sure truth and tender care 
 Who earth aud sea commands. 
 
 " No profit canst thou gain 
 By self-consuming care ; 
 To Him commend thy cause ; His ear 
 Attends thy softest prayer. 
 
 " Give to the winds thy fears ! 
 Hope, and be undismayed, 
 He hears thy sighs, He counts thy tears, 
 He shall lift up thy head. 
 
 " Through waves, and cloud, and storms r 
 
 He '11 safely guide thy way 
 Trust but to Him ! so bhall thy night 
 Soon end in cloudless day."
 
 14 Town and Forejl. 
 
 Meantime, her benefactress had walked rapidly 
 from the house, till she entered a quiet little home 
 in a quiet little street. 
 
 In front was a small shop, the shutters of which 
 were closed for the night. As she passed through 
 it, there came the ruddy light of a brisk little fire 
 from the small back-parlour. She looked through 
 the glass door, saw the little table nicely set for 
 tea, the bright brass kettle on the hob, a hot 
 buttered tea-cake before the fire, and a man read- 
 ing a newspaper by the fire-light. 
 
 She could not resist the temptation of bouncing 
 in upon him and saying, " Bo ! " 
 
 " To a goose ? hey ? " said he, looking up from 
 his paper ; "or from a goose ? which ? " 
 
 Then he began softly to hum 
 
 " 'Where have you been ?' said Milder to Holder ; 
 And 'Where have you been?" said the younger to 
 the older." 
 
 "Then I must ask yon" said she briskly, as 
 she untied her bonnet, "for you are the oldest. 
 Who was Milder, and who was Molder ? "
 
 Michaelmas Daijies. 15 
 
 "That's a question that might puzzle the 
 Sphinx/' 
 
 "Who was the Sphinx?" 
 
 " Well, Ellen, the fact is, I don't know ; only, 
 I have heard Mr. Bolter say, when he was 
 puzzled, 'That's a question might puzzle the 
 Sphinx.'" 
 
 "Perhaps Mr. Bolter does not know," said 
 Ellen. 
 
 " Perhaps not. But where have you been ? " 
 
 " Why," said Ellen, placing herself at the tea 
 table, and beginning to make tea, " Mrs. Meeke 
 let me off earlier than usual this afternoon ; and, 
 as I was tying on my bonnet, and looking out 
 into the little back-garden, I said, 'What nice 
 Michaelmas daisies ! ' She said, ' You may take a 
 few if you like ; ' so I thanked her and gathered 
 some. I had a little marketing to do, and, as I 
 was coming home, and making my way among so 
 many poor, hungry-looking people, I thought how 
 much pleasure these flowers might give to some- 
 body who has to work hard in a close room all
 
 1 6 Town and Foreft. 
 
 day ! Then I thought of poor Joe Neale, and 
 went to his lodgings ; but the woman said he had 
 gone away. I asked who had his room, and 
 she said a poor girl who made sacks, so I 
 thought she might do as well, and be doing as 
 badly." 
 
 Ellen then related what had passed during their 
 interview, and thus proceeded. 
 
 " I came home, and began to look up what old 
 things I had in my rubbish-closet, that might be 
 useful to her; for, you know, I could not give 
 money. There was some old cracked earthenware, 
 a serviceable petticoat and pair of shoes, my old 
 patch counterpane, and a piece of old calico 
 sheeting." 
 
 "Not a very handsome stock in trade, Ellen, 
 certainly." 
 
 " Oh, and there was an old torn hymn-book of 
 Master Tommy's that Mrs. Meeke had given me 
 for my rubbish-closet. I thought the girl might 
 not have a Bible, you know, but I had not one I
 
 Michaelmas Daijles. 17 
 
 could spare to give her. So I went and set the 
 things out, and they looked so nice ! quite smart I 
 But unfortunately she did not corne back, and I 
 waited, and waited, and at length was coining 
 away, when I met an old milkman serving the 
 lodgers. I said, ' You have not left any for the 
 attic/ He said, ' She don't take any/ So I 
 bought her a halfpennyworth, and that was all 
 I spent. The woman of the house gave me a 
 gallipot. And now what have you been about, 
 Mr. John ? " 
 
 "While Mr. John was giving an account of his 
 proceedings, she listened earnestly and sympa- 
 thisingly, attending sedulously to his creature 
 comforts the mean time ; for she made it a rule 
 to render his meals, which were his only seasons 
 of rest and refreshment, as pleasant as she 
 could. Afterwards, he had some writing to 
 do, and while his pen was busily scouring, 
 across the paper, she made the following little 
 memorandum.
 
 1 8 Town and Foreft. 
 
 Cost of a comfortable evening to a poor sack- 
 maker : 
 
 s. d. 
 Old earthenware .... 
 
 Old clothes and hymn-book .000 
 My own butter and bacon .000 
 Milk .......
 
 CHAPTEE II. 
 
 TEA AND TOAST. 
 
 " The hearth was clean, the fire was clear, 
 
 The kettle on for tea ; 
 Palemon, in his elbow-chair, 
 Was blest as man can be." 
 
 " HP HAT'S all very well to say," observed 
 John, when Ellen showed him her state- 
 ment, " only you know it is not correct." 
 
 " It 's never very well to say what is not, cor- 
 rect," retorted Ellen. "I know as well as you 
 do, that the halfpennyworth of milk was not 
 enough of itself to make her comfortable ; but it 
 was all the money I laid out, the other things
 
 2O Town and For eft. 
 
 cost me nothing, and were absolutely of no use 
 to me. And I do think, if people would but 
 use their wits, and not mind trouble, they might 
 do immense good to others, even with what cost 
 themselves nothing, and to themselves was ab- 
 solutely useless. Well, how did Betsy Brick get 
 on to-day ? " 
 
 " Betsy Brick is a regular brick. She tied on 
 her little straw bonnet directly I came in, and 
 was off like smoke; but she left a list of what 
 she had sold to-day, set down on the slate." 
 
 " Why, you abominable John ! you have been 
 sitting on the slate, I do believe ! The writing 
 is all rubbed out ! " 
 
 John looked rather blank, and took the slate 
 from her. "All right," said he, "you looked 
 at the wrong side. See two work-pockets, one 
 housewife, one kite, two pennyworth of marbles, 
 a squirt, two pennyworths of fun, one top, and 
 one Jack-in-the box." 
 
 " Come, that is famous, the till must be quite 
 full. Five and sixpence, I declare! delightful!
 
 Tea and Toaft. 21 
 
 Why, with my two shillings and your half-crown, 
 we have made ten shillings to-day ! " 
 
 "Tor what we have received, may the Lord 
 make us truly thankful," said John. 
 
 " Amen," said Ellen. " Of course, we cannot 
 expect such good trade every day, or we should 
 make how much? three pounds a week, twelve 
 pounds a month ! a hundred and forty-four pounds 
 a year ! Oh, that would be enormous, it 's not 
 to be thought of. Some people do, though, 
 make money at that rate," 
 
 "I believe you !" said John. 
 
 "Of course, I meant in* our station. Is Mr. 
 Bolter come in ? " 
 
 "No, he 's late to-night." 
 
 " Poor man ! what work his is ! " 
 
 " And he feels it so ! I couldn't contend with 
 it, for my part it's ten times harder than my 
 clerkship at the brewery. He'll break down, I 
 fear, if he doesn't get case-hardened. There he 
 is now, I think." And John rose to open the 
 front door.
 
 22 Town and For eft. 
 
 " Good evening, Mr. Bolter/' 
 
 "Don't come near me," cried Mr. Bolter, 
 shrinking from him, " I 'm dangerous ! " 
 
 John involuntarily drew back. 
 
 " Anything infectious ? " said he. 
 
 "Nothing but dirt you never knew such a 
 den as I come from. And, alas, where souls 
 are as foul as bodies. I'm going up to change 
 everything." 
 
 "Take this light," said John, holding him a 
 candle at arm's length. 
 
 "Thank you, though I have matches." And 
 he ran up the narrow stairs. 
 
 " Poor man," said John, returning to his snug 
 fire-side, and looking grave. 
 
 "Suppose I make him a cup of tea, and we 
 ask him to drink it down here/' said Ellen. 
 "You can do so, and take Inm up some warm 
 water to wash in, at the same time." 
 
 " You won't mind it ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 John returned, looking still more solemnised.
 
 Tea and Toa/t. 23 
 
 " There be was/' said he, " on his knees by the 
 bed, praying and crying at the same time. It 
 cuts one to the heart." 
 
 "He'll be better presently," said Ellen. 
 " Will he come down ? " 
 
 "Oh, yes; at first he refused, but I pressed 
 him till he consented ; and I think it will cheer 
 him up." 
 
 " I am certain of it. I will make him a nice 
 round of hot buttered toast." 
 
 When Mr. Bolter came down, he looked quite 
 a different man. His face was pale and harassed 
 indeed; but he had made himself scrupulously 
 clean, and had the air of a man who was willing 
 to be made comfortable if he could. 
 
 "Dear me," said he, "what privileges, what 
 blessings ! My cup with mercies runneth o'er ! " 
 
 "You make too much of it," said Ellen, 
 handing him the hot toast. " Do you like your 
 tea very sweet ? " 
 - " Thank you, I don't drink sugar." 
 
 " Economy, Mr. Bolter ? " inquired John.
 
 24 Town and Fore/I. 
 
 "Economy first, but now I prefer my tea 
 without it. I cannot say the same of milk, and 
 this is particularly good." 
 
 " The same you have night and morning," said 
 Ellen. 
 
 " Then your tea is better than mine, I fancy. 
 What do you give ? " 
 
 " Three and eightpence." 
 
 *' So do I. You must put in more." 
 
 "Only one spoonful each, and one for the 
 teapot." 
 
 " Then, if not in the making, it must be in the 
 maker," said Mr. Bolter laughing, and drinking 
 Lis tea with relish. 
 
 " Ay, that 's it," said John. " I wouldn't give 
 & pin for a cup of tea made by myself, if I could 
 have one made by a nice young woman. 
 However, appetite is the best sauce, and I fancy 
 you have earned one to-day, sir." 
 
 " If I earned it, I did not get it," said Mr. 
 Bolter. " There was everything to take it away. 
 When I came in, I didn't believe I could touch a
 
 Tea and Toaft. 25 
 
 morsel ; nor do I think I could, if it hadn't been 
 for you and your sister." 
 
 " Where have you been to-day, Mr. Bolter ? " 
 
 " Don't ask him yet/' interposed Ellen. 
 
 However, Mr. Bolter was reviving rapidly ; and 
 without leaving off eating, he replied " Where 
 have I been? Why, to Hopkinsville, the very 
 worst suburb on the borders of London." 
 
 " What a name ! " exclaimed Ellen, with 
 disgust. " Such a mixture of low and 
 fine." 
 
 " Somewhere out beyond the East India docks, 
 I conclude ? " said John. 
 
 " Yes, one of the results of railway enterprise ; 
 and run up, chiefly, for the accommodation of 
 railway people. But what accommodation ! 
 Only one entrance-door and passage to every four 
 houses neither drained, paved, nor lighted. 
 These houses form numerous small streets, and 
 contain the families of about a thousand men 
 employed in the factory, at the stations, and on 
 the lines." 
 
 c
 
 26 Town and For eft. 
 
 "And is this to be your new field of 
 labour?" 
 
 " I grieve to say it is, for what is one among so 
 many ? " 
 
 " Remember the answer to that ! " cried Ellen 
 hastily. " The disciples used those very words to 
 our Lord, respecting the loaves and fishes they 
 saw the want, but not the remedy. He answered 
 them, not by increasing the number of loaves that 
 were on the field, but by making them go as far 
 as if he had the consequence was, all had bread 
 enough and to spare." 
 
 " Excellent ! " said Mr. Bolter earnestly. 
 
 "Not my own, though," said Ellen. "Our 
 minister said so last Sunday in his sermon." 
 
 ' f Let us hear some more of Hopkinstown, if 
 you please, Mr. Bolter," said John. 
 
 " Hopkinsville, if you please, Mr. Miller. Do 
 not rob me of any of my little grandeur. The 
 city missionary of Hopkinsville ! Surely that 
 sounds rather distinguished? Well, the backs of 
 these houses look out on a stagnant ditch
 
 Tea and Toajl. 27 
 
 overflowing with corruption. I won't enlarge on 
 this, especially at tea-time. To be appreciated, it 
 must be seen and smelt. In winter-time, heavy 
 rains dilute the contents of these ditches, which 
 overflow all the surrounding flats." 
 
 " Horrid ! " ejaculated Ellen. 
 
 "The doctor told me," pursued Mr. Bolter, 
 " that, at such times, a fetid mist rises from the 
 ground ; so that, if you meet a man towards dusk, 
 you only see the upper part of his body, and lose 
 sight of his lower limbs." 
 
 "How can people live in such an atmosphere ? " 
 cried John. 
 
 " Well, they do live ; but of course considerably 
 more than the average deaths occur; and agues 
 and fevers abound." 
 
 " I put it to you ! " said John, striking the 
 table : " have speculators a right, in the sight of 
 God, to build dwellings so destitute of sanitary 
 provisions, that sickness and death are sure to 
 ensue to the inhabitants ? " 
 
 " In the eye of God, no ! " said Mr. Bolter.
 
 2,8 Town and For eft. 
 
 " The deaths of these people lie at their doors 
 as much as if they cut their thronts ! " said 
 John. 
 
 " Not in the eye of man, unluckily," said Mr. 
 Bolter, " and that makes all the difference. The 
 doctor told me that a case or two of smallpox 
 speedily became an epidemic of the confluent 
 description, in spite of wholesale vaccination, and 
 that he had had as many as twenty cases of it in 
 one day." 
 
 " How does he live, I wonder ? " said Ellen. 
 
 " Ah, there 's a Providence over medical men, 
 and missionaries too," said John cheerily ; " else, 
 liow should we get along ? " 
 
 " Many fall victims, though," said Mr. Bolter. 
 
 " Very few in proportion to the others." 
 
 " True ; one reason is moral force ; another, 
 liabits of personal cleanliness ; another, tempe- 
 rance and wholesome diet ; another, sleeping 
 in a purer air than that in which these poor 
 wretches live night and day." 
 
 "Add to all these advantages, the immediate
 
 Tea and Toaft. 29 
 
 and special blessing of God/' said Ellen, " and 
 you may hope to be spared." 
 
 "I trust," cried Mr. Bolter, rather eagerly, 
 " that, if you have noted something of depression, 
 in my manner while speaking of this district, you 
 have not attributed it to any fear of personal 
 consequences. no ! I am as ready to risk my 
 life for my fellow men among the black ditches- 
 of Hopkinsville, as if it were Alma or Inker- 
 manu ! " 
 
 " I did not do you the injustice you suppose," 
 replied Ellen ; " but you cannot wonder that your 
 friends should wish your valuable life to be 
 spared ; and you yourself would gladly, I should 
 think, live to do as much good as you could, 
 where there is so much need of it." 
 
 " Certainly I should," said Mr. Bolter, putting 
 aside his empty tea-cup and sighing ; " but when 
 I consider the size of the district, the number of 
 families it contains, and their extreme lack of 
 moral and spiritual culture, I feel somewhat 
 discouraged. I cannot but know that it will be
 
 30 Town and Fore/I. 
 
 quite impossible for me to attend to them all. 
 "While I am at my duty in one part, I shall be 
 equally needed in many others ; hopeful cases will 
 come to nothing for want of the time absolutely 
 necessary to follow them up." 
 
 Ellen, finding that he had finished his tea, 
 speedily cleared the table, snuffed the candle, and 
 produced her neat work-basket. After stitching 
 a collar for some minutes in thoughtful silence, 
 she said 
 
 " You make me more contented with my very 
 humble sphere of action, Mr. Bolter. I cheered a 
 poor woman this evening by giving her a handful 
 of Michaelmas daisies, and a few other things, 
 which literally did not cost me a penny, and I 
 feel quite pleased and comfortable; while you, 
 who can do good on so much larger and grander 
 a scale, who can save souls and fit them for an 
 eternity of happiness, are out of heart because you 
 can't do more than you can do ! " 
 
 "No! not out of heart! "he replied. "On 
 the contrary, I am grateful for having this field of
 
 Tea and Toaft. 31 
 
 usefulness afforded me, and am resolved to do as 
 much in it as I can/' 
 
 " How shall you begin ? " 
 
 "First, I think, by schools. A day-school 
 and a Sunday-school, if I can but raise the 
 funds." 
 
 " They ought not to be wanting," observed 
 Ellen. 
 
 " Easy to say, Miss Miller." 
 
 " Well, I do think, if devoted men like you are 
 forthcoming to undertake such dangerous and 
 difficult work, the rich ought not to grudge their 
 money. As Kobert Moffat said, ' If we go down 
 into the mine, surely you will hold the rope ? ' " 
 
 " That 's the very least they ought to do," said 
 John. 
 
 "Well, we'll suppose that settled," said Mr. 
 Bolter. " Then, in the next place, I should like 
 to get up a Sunday-evening service, conducted in 
 the school-room, for the benefit of those who are 
 too dirty and ragged for any regular place of 
 worship. I shall hope, also, to hold a meeting
 
 32 Town and Forejl. 
 
 for prayer and Scripture exposition in the same 
 room on Thursday evenings. At present, you 
 must understand, Hopkinsville has neither church 
 nor chapel/' 
 
 " Though plenty of gin-palaces, I '11 answer for 
 it/' said John. " Oh ! oh ! " 
 
 Ellen worked a little while ; and then said, 
 ""Well, there seems everything to do. I can only 
 wish you success." 
 
 " Pardon me, you can do more you can pray 
 for my success ; and I hope you will," said Mr. 
 Bolter. 
 
 " I will," replied she in a low voice. 
 
 " You know the promise," lie continued. " ' If 
 ttco of you shall agree as touching anything that 
 they shall ask, it shall be done for them of my 
 Father which is in heaven/ " 
 
 " What a wonderful promise that is ! " said 
 Ellen. 
 
 "Many must have been disappointed in it, 
 though, I should think/' said John doubtfully. 
 
 " Well, if any such case occurred to me, which
 
 Tea and Too/I. 33 
 
 none does at this moment/' said Mr. Bolter, 
 " my question would be, was it fairly tried ? But 
 my own belief is that it is tried very little ; and 
 that, when it is tried, it is found to answer in 
 innumerably more cases than you would think. 
 How often, in reading religious biographies, you 
 find instances in which the united prayer of two 
 or more believers, on some special occasion, has 
 been remarkably answered ! We feel a kind of 
 surprise when we read of such things, which we 
 should not do if we practically and firmly believed 
 the promise ; and if we do not believe the promise, 
 of course our prayer for its fulfilment is hardly the- 
 right thing." 
 
 " Clearly not," said John. 
 
 "Ah," said Mr. Bolter, with much feeling, 
 "my mother was a very devout woman. I 
 remember a striking instance of the efficacy of a 
 prayer of hers." 
 
 And he related it, and then fell into talking of 
 early times, and his native place, and his child- 
 hood, till all the lines of care disappeared from.
 
 34 Town and Foreji, 
 
 his face ; and as he sat smiling and looking from 
 one to the other, with the full light of the solitary 
 candle falling on his open, benevolent coun- 
 tenance, Ellen could not help thinking what a 
 pleasant-looking man he was. 
 
 John professed himself very little read in 
 religious biographies, and asked Mr. Bolter to 
 recommend him a few. Mr. Bolter, as he named 
 them, mentioned their prices, and where they 
 were printed, or likely to be had second-hand, 
 and spoke of their merits, and described the 
 nature of their contents. Then, standing up in 
 front of their little shelf, he looked over the 
 names of their books, took some of them down 
 and looked into them, read passages here and 
 there, and offered to lend one or two of his own 
 books to John. 
 
 Meanwhile, Ellen was very quietly cooking 
 something that smelt uncommonly nice in a little 
 saucepan, shaking it now and then to prevent its 
 burning, and mashing a few cold potatoes, scoring 
 them, and setting them to brown ; after which she
 
 Tea and Too/I. 35 
 
 spread the little table with a clean cloth ; and by 
 the time Mr. Bolter had finished reading aloud 
 the description of the country inn and the 
 
 country parson in 'The Deserted Village/ she 
 
 t 
 
 had served a neat little hot supper. There was 
 not much of it, but it was sociably dispensed, 
 and cheerfully partaken of; seasoned with much 
 chat of that quality that relieves fatigue of mind 
 as much as a good bed refreshes the body. 
 Afterwards, Ellen cleared the table, placed on it 
 the Bible, snuffed the candle, and the evening fitly 
 concluded with a short, fervent service.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 VEAL PIE FOR TWO. 
 
 " ' Will you walk into my parlour ? ' said a spider to a fly; 
 ' 'Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy ! ' " 
 
 TTT^LLEN had just finished dressing on Sunday 
 morning, when her brother tapped at her 
 door. 
 
 "Are you almost ready?" said he. "I shall 
 be glad to breakfast early, for I am not going to 
 church with you this morning." 
 
 Ellen looked dismayed. " Not going to church 
 with me ?" repeated she. " Then where in the 
 world are you going ? "
 
 Veal Pie for Two. 37 
 
 " Out among the tea- gardens and pleasure- 
 vans," said he, with a roguish smile " just for a 
 bit of a lark. Why should not I take my 
 pleasure now and then, along with the rest ?" 
 
 Ellen saw directly that there was no real ground 
 for alarm. 
 
 "I cannot make it out," said she cheerfully; 
 " but I shall be down directly/* 
 
 He had already cleaned the grate, lighted the 
 fire, and set on the kettle for her he always 
 would do that. And when men and women of 
 the same family, dwelling under the same roof, 
 unite, as this brother and sister did, in acting up 
 to the text, " Bear ye one another's burdens," it 
 is surprising how soon and how cheerfully the 
 day's work is done. Ellen had soon dusted the 
 room and set the breakfast; and while she was 
 doing so, John told her that he was so interested 
 in Mr. Bolter's labours, and so curious to see 
 how he carried them on, that they had agreed 
 overnight to set out this morning in company 
 to distribute tracts and do missionary work in
 
 38 Town and For eft. 
 
 a wild district a few miles to the east of 
 London. 
 
 Ellen was disappointed to lose her companion ; 
 but she was well assured John could learn nothing 
 but good of Mr. Bolter; and he was so steady 
 a church-goer in general, and so accustomed to 
 consult her wishes, that she would not, on the 
 present occasion, express any objection. 
 
 On the contrary, she said how glad she was 
 it was so fine a morning for their long walk, 
 and that she hoped they would do a great deal 
 of good. 
 
 John said he did not expect to do any good, 
 but he hoped to see some good done. He was 
 not going to return to dinner. Mr. Bolter and 
 he had agreed to take some bread and cheese 
 with them, and eat it under a hedge. 
 
 Ellen thought how nice it would be to eat 
 bread and cheese under a hedge, and felt she 
 should like to be with them ; but she remembered 
 how often the pleasant air, blue sky, and green 
 fields, so lovely and innocent in themselves, be-
 
 Veal Pie for Two. 39 
 
 come temptations to people to enjoy them on 
 Sundays to the exclusion of the proper duties 
 of the day, and she knew she was best at home. 
 She had made a nice little veal-pie for John and 
 herself, and she now wanted him to take it with 
 him to share with Mr. Bolter ; but he said bread 
 and cheese would be less cumbersome; besides 
 which, he well knew that if he carried oif the 
 veal-pie, Ellen must dine on bread and cheese, 
 and this he did not choose. 
 
 So they set off very briskly, Mr. Bolter carrying 
 a blue bag full of tracts, and John with their 
 dinners in a brown paper parcel. The early bells 
 were ringing, school children hastening through 
 the streets, and many a man and many a woman 
 carrying a small piece of beef or mutton and a 
 good many potatoes in a brown earthen dish to 
 the baker's. 
 
 Ellen put out the fire, sat down to her Bible, 
 pondered over sundry texts on which she meant 
 to question her class at the Sunday-school, con- 
 sulted her " Sunday-school Teacher's Treasury,"
 
 40 Town and Forejl. 
 
 and then dressed herself for church, locked up 
 the house, and set off with the key in her pocket. 
 
 As she passed Hag-court, where the sack-maker 
 lived, she felt suddenly impelled to call on her. 
 There was little sign of Sabbath-keeping in Hag- 
 court : dirty children were rolling on the ground, 
 boys playing chuckfarthing, women buying cab- 
 bages, and men lounging about the public-house 
 and bird-fancier's. It was not a nice place for 
 a neat, modest young woman to enter ; however, 
 Ellen made her way up to the sack-maker's attic, 
 and tapped at the door. 
 
 "Coine in," said a stifled voice, that sounded 
 as if the speaker were crying. 
 
 Such was the fact : the sack-maker was sitting 
 on her sacks, looking the picture of woe, and 
 weeping bitterly. 
 
 " O dear, what is the matter ? " said Ellen 
 hastily. " Has anything happened ? " 
 
 The sack-maker looked rather ashamed, and 
 got up, brushing away her tears with her hands, 
 saying, " I didn't know you were coming to-day."
 
 Veal Pie for Two. 41 
 
 "Nor did I," said Ellen cheerfully; "but I 
 am on my way to the Sun day- school, and just 
 as I came by here, I thought I would look in." 
 
 " Ah ! I was a Sunday-scholar once," said the 
 sack-maker, looking very full of woe. 
 
 " But now, being a woman, you have put away 
 childish tilings. You are fitter for a teacher than, 
 a scholar now." 
 
 "I? Ono!" 
 
 And she sat do\vn again in utter despondency. 
 Ellen did not exactly know how to proceed. 
 
 " Are vou s^oin^ to church ? " said she. 
 
 v O O 
 
 " How can I ? " returned the sack-maker, 
 almost pettishly, and pointing to her old bonnet 
 and shawl. 
 
 " Oh ! never mind not being very smart. You 
 know the Lord looketh not to the outward ap- 
 pearance, but to the heart." 
 
 " That's as bad as the other ! " 
 
 " "Well, it is something to know that the way to 
 cleanse it is to ask Him to wash it in the blood of 
 His dear Son."
 
 42 Town and Foreft. 
 
 "I can't. IVe lost the power and the will 
 to pray." 
 
 "In church, with the voice and breath of 
 prayer all around you, perhaps the power and the 
 will may return. Try." 
 
 The sack-maker looked irresolute and miserable. 
 
 "Come try." 
 
 " How can I, in such clothes ? Who will let 
 me sit next them ? " 
 
 "/will." 
 
 She looked up startled. " You ? " said she, 
 with fast-filling eyes. 
 
 "Yes, willingly. Come, put on your tilings, 
 and we will start off together." 
 
 " I haven't washed yet, and " 
 
 "Well, it is not church-time, and I have my 
 class to attend to. I will come back for you in 
 half an hour." 
 
 It is impossible to describe the change that 
 came over the sack-maker's face. " Thank you," 
 she murmured. 
 
 Ellen gave her a cheerful nod, and hastened
 
 Veal Pie for Two. 43 
 
 away. Directly she was gone, the sack-maker 
 sank on her knees and burst into tears. Then 
 she buried her face in her hands and prayed. 
 
 Ellen found a friend able to supply her place 
 at the school while she left the ninety and nine to 
 look after the poor sheep that had gone astray in 
 the wilderness. "When she returned to the attic, 
 she was greatly surprised and pleased at the im- 
 proved appearance of her protegee. With face 
 and hands scrupulously clean, hair and dress 
 neatly arranged, she looked, though poorly and 
 insufficiently clad, respectable. Her countenance, 
 too, had cleared, and there was a faint colour in 
 her cheek. 
 
 " What a nice morning it is is it not ? " said 
 Ellen as they quitted Flag-court. " I am always 
 so glad of a fine Sunday, because it enables so 
 many people to get comfortably to and from their 
 places of worship. Besides, the fine weather has 
 an effect upon our spirits, and makes us more 
 disposed to be grateful to God for all his mercies. 
 I often think what a blessing it is to be born in a
 
 44 Town and Fore/I. 
 
 Christian land, and in days when people are not 
 persecuted for their religion, as they were in the 
 days of bloody Queen Mary. Did you ever 
 happen to read Fox's ' Book of Martyrs ? ' ; 
 
 "Part of it father has it." And as she spoke, 
 a deep blush coloured the sack-makers pale face. 
 
 " What is your name ? " said Ellen, presently. 
 
 "Margaret is my Christian name." Then, 
 after a pause, during which she was probably 
 thinking she ought not to be so reserved to one 
 who was so kind to her, she added, "Margaret 
 Scott." 
 
 " Yours seems a poor employment," said Ellen, 
 after another silence. "I wish you had some- 
 thing that would pay better. I suppose you can 
 do better work than sack-work ? " 
 
 " yes ! I 'm pretty good at plain-work. I 
 have bound shoes and sewn carpets. But I have 
 not been able to get any work of that kind of 
 late." 
 
 " Well, I must try if I can hear of something 
 for you."
 
 Veal Pie for Two. 45 
 
 "They all want a recommendation," faltered 
 Margaret. 
 
 " And can't you get one ? " 
 
 " No that is " 
 
 She did not finish the sentence. 
 
 " Well, I must think it over/' said Ellen. 
 
 They walked on quietly for some little time. 
 Suddenly Margaret exclaimed, with animation, 
 " How pleasant it is ! " 
 
 " What ? " said Ellen, surprised. 
 
 "Why, going to church, and walking along 
 this way with you, and it seems so cheering 
 like." 
 
 Her voice dropped, and she turned her face 
 away. 
 
 "It is cheering," responded Ellen heartily. 
 "It reminds me of the little hymn we all learn 
 when we are children 
 
 ' I have been there and still will go, 
 Tis like a little heaven below ! ' 
 
 You know it don't you ? " 
 
 " yes ! Only I have not thought of it for
 
 46 Town and Forejl. 
 
 a long time." And she seemed repeating the 
 remainder of the verse to herself. 
 
 "Well, here we are," said Ellen, as they 
 reached the church. "Don't shrink away from 
 me that way I 'm no more ashamed of you than 
 you of me." 
 
 She led the way to the little pew in which she 
 and John had two sittings. It was one of the 
 old-fashioned, high-backed, narrow pews, under a 
 gallery, and had a large pillar in it besides, so 
 that, as no one else came into it, they were very 
 much to themselves, and no one had the oppor- 
 tunity of sneering at Margaret's shabby bonnet. 
 Ellen observed that Margaret followed the service 
 attentively, but now and then seemed bewildered 
 and oppressed, as if by painful recollections ; and 
 when the organ began to play she was completely 
 overcome, and wept piteously though silently. 
 Ellen thought it best to take no notice; and 
 though these little gushes occurred once or twice 
 again, yet her general demeanour was subdued, 
 reverent, and just what could be wished. The
 
 Veal Pie for Two. 47 
 
 sermon was an interesting and awakening one. 
 It tore the veil from sin, and then showed the 
 way of escape, and consoled and encouraged the 
 penitent sinner. 
 
 As they left the church, "Suppose," thought 
 Ellen suddenly, "suppose I take her home to 
 dine with me." It was a sudden impulse; and 
 sometimes it is dangerous to yield to sudden 
 impulses, but sometimes it is quite the reverse, 
 for through them the Spirit speaks, and we are 
 influenced by our pity before our charity, properly 
 speaking, has had time to operate.* "Yes, I 
 will," was Ellen's answer to herself. John was 
 taking his pleasure, and why should not she take 
 hers? Luckily the pleasure of both was doing 
 good. 
 
 "Yes, I will," thought she to herself. All, 
 how often we answer, " No, I will not," to our 
 benevolent impulses ! 
 
 So when Margaret wistfully glanced at her to 
 
 * " His pity gave ere charity began." Goldsmith.
 
 48 Town and Fore/I. 
 
 guess by her countenance whether they were to 
 part at once, or walk together to the entrance of 
 Mag-court, Ellen cheerfully said, "My brother 
 does not dine at home to-day ; I shall be quite by 
 myself, so I shall be glad if you will come home 
 to dine with me, and remain till I go in the 
 afternoon to the Sunday-school." 
 
 AYho can express the joy of Margaret ? Her 
 face really glowed with happiness. " How very 
 kind ! " said she, tremulously ; and as they 
 walked on, Ellen told her that she and her brother 
 John lived in Kobert-street ; that they were 
 orphans ; that John was a clerk in Mr. Truebur/s 
 brewery; and that she worked at her needle at 
 home and abroad, and kept a little shop, which, 
 when she went out by the day, was looked after 
 by a kind girl who lived next door. She added 
 that her father and mother had been well brought 
 up, but had been unfortunate in business and very 
 sickly. They had found a very kind friend in a 
 lady named Mrs. Meeke, who lived in Adelaide- 
 square; she had a large family, and kept Ellen
 
 F'eal Pie for Two. 49 
 
 almost constantly employed in needlework either 
 at home or in " the Scaiare ; " and when she went 
 there, she had her meals with Mrs. Meeke and 
 the children, as Mr. Meeke dined at his house of 
 business. 
 
 Ellen added that she and her brother had a 
 lodger, a most excellent man, a city missionary ; 
 it was untold the good he did ! the number of 
 thieves he had reclaimed, of drunkards he had 
 persuaded to take the pledge, of persons he had 
 persuaded to attend divine worship and have 
 their children sent to school, &c., &c. 
 
 Margaret listened very attentively to Mr. 
 Bolter's praises, but seemed rather relieved to hear 
 that so formidably good a person had gone out for 
 the day. They were now in Robert-street ; Ellen 
 unlocked the door of No. 5, and introduced 
 her guest through the shop to the little back 
 parlour, which Margaret thought the picture of 
 comfort. The table was soon spread ; the dainty 
 little veal pie being flanked unexpectedly with 
 three or four baked potatoes, smoking hot, which 
 
 D
 
 50 Town and For eft. 
 
 the good-natured Betsy Brick ran in with from 
 the next door. Betsy was very pretty, with merry 
 blue eyes, rather a wide mouth, cherry-red lips, 
 and a dimple in her cheek. She gave Margaret a 
 surprised but not rude look, and ran out again as 
 quickly as she had run in. 
 
 Margaret thought she had never had so nice a 
 dinner. Ellen talked so pleasantly, too, that the 
 time only passed too swiftly, and she was quite 
 sorry to see Ellen putting on her bonnet. She 
 promised to go to church in the evening ; and 
 Ellen gave her a pretty little tract to read when 
 she got home, which would interest her in the 
 mean while. When they parted, Margaret said, 
 shyly, " I hope we shall meet again/' 
 
 "O yes, I dare say we shall," said Ellen; 
 and with that Margaret was forced to be con- 
 tented. 
 
 The fact was, that Ellen was afraid of com- 
 mitting herself before she saw her way a little 
 more clearly ; but she had made out a good deal 
 about Margaret which made her hope and even
 
 J^eal Pie for Two. 5 1 
 
 expect that John would consider her case one 
 worth her talcing up. Ellen had spoken so 
 frankly of herself to Margaret that Margaret had 
 been rather confidential in return. It appeared 
 that Margaret's father was a small yeoman, who 
 had a cottage somewhere in Essex, and that she 
 had never been in service, but had worked for 
 some large furnishing house in the City ; and on 
 one occasion, owing to her own negligence, had 
 come to be unjustly suspected of a very grievous 
 fault she had not committed, which had occa- 
 sioned her immediate dismissal without a cha- 
 racter. Moreover, her father had been set 
 against her for some reason, and would not 
 receive her at home; so that, hopeless and 
 despairing, she took a poor lodging, and earned 
 a trifle by job-work. When this failed, she sold 
 her clothes, and at last her Bible; and as the 
 sack-making would cease as soon as the woman 
 who employed her got well, which she was likely 
 to do in a day or two, starvation stared her in 
 the face.
 
 5 2 Town and Foreft. 
 
 " So what am I to do ? " she added, dejectedly. 
 
 " Keep a good heart, and pray to God/' said 
 Ellen, "and something will be sure to turn up. 
 See if it doesn't." 
 
 This was a vague sort of encouragement ; but 
 still Margaret did feel encouraged, and went back 
 to her lonely lodging with a lighter heart. 
 
 When Mr. Bolter and John returned, which 
 was not till after evening service, they were tired 
 and hungry enough. Luckily Ellen and Margaret 
 had only eaten half the pie, so there was plenty 
 left for them, and the fire was soon lighted and 
 the kettle soon boiling for tea. 
 
 Ellen let them appease their hunger before she 
 troubled them with questions, for which they 
 were duly grateful. At length, when they were 
 completely satisfied, they drew their chairs to the 
 fire, and as soon as she had cleared away the 
 tea-things, she sat down too, and begged them 
 to give her some account of the events of the day. 
 
 " Your brother will tell you/' said Mr. Bolter, 
 coughing a little.
 
 Teal Pie for Two. 53 
 
 " Yes, I will be spokesman," said John ; " for 
 Mr. Bolter's lungs have been so fully engaged all 
 day in exhorting, expounding, preaching, praying, 
 singing hymns, and reading the Scriptures, that 
 he requires rest. So I will relate our adventures 
 in Hainault Forest."
 
 CHAPTEE IV. 
 
 HAINAULT F011EST. 
 
 TT AINAULT FOREST ! What a delightfully 
 romantic name ! What ideas it conjures 
 up of grassy glades amid old, old trees, frequented 
 by owls and squirrels, with violets and primroses 
 growing at their roots, and hares and rabbits 
 slipping here and there through the fern, and 
 groups of startled deer rushing across and out 
 of sight, and woodpigeons cooing afar off, no one 
 can exactly say where. But where is Hainault 
 Forest ? There was a Sir John de Hainault in 
 olden times, of whom Froissart tells pleasant
 
 Hainault For eft. 55 
 
 stories how that he was a handsome, brave 
 young knight, wondrously taken in by cunning 
 Queen Isabella, wife of our Edward the Second, 
 to whom he swore fealty, and in whose cause he 
 came over from Flanders with ever so many 
 gallant soldiers to fight in her defence. 
 
 Well, but that brave young Sir John de 
 Hainault had nothing to do, maybe, with our 
 Hainault Forest. The province of Hainault is 
 in the Netherlands ; but Hainault Forest is close 
 on the skirts of smoky London. 
 
 " It is difficult to believe," said John, " that in 
 former times the whole county of Essex was one 
 immense forest; yet such, Mr. Bolter tells me, 
 was really the case. In the reign of Charles the 
 First, when its boundaries were greatly dimi- 
 nished, its extent was estimated at sixty thousand 
 acres, forty-eight thousand of which have been 
 since inclosed, leaving twelve thousand acres of 
 waste and woodland. 
 
 "You know, Ellen, we were lately reading an 
 account of the famous Fairlop oak, and how its
 
 56 Toivn and Fore/I. 
 
 branches formerly overspread a circuit of three 
 hundred feet. A fair used to be held in its 
 honour, and under its shade, on the 22nd of July, 
 when the days are long and the weather is gene- 
 rally pleasant enough. Many a loving couple has 
 doubtless strayed among the green glades and 
 alleys thereabouts at such times, and many a 
 sociable party has been grouped round a cold 
 pigeon-pie in the shade, and many a girl has 
 munched gingerbread, and many a boy blown 
 his penny whistle under that old oak. Had this 
 been all, it would have been harmless enough ; 
 but unhappily drinking and gaming became the 
 two prominent features of this fair, as they do of 
 most. On Fairlop Sunday, 1839, seventy-two 
 gambling-tables and a hundred and seven drink- 
 ing-booths were counted round about the spot 
 where the old oak once flourished for it has 
 long since been cut down, and the pulpit of 
 St. Pancras church was constructed of the timber. 
 Earlier in the year, when the trees are clothed 
 in green, a better place for a gipsying party than
 
 Hainault Fore/I. 57 
 
 Epping Forest can hardly be imagined ; and one 
 does not wonder that numbers of vans with their 
 looped-up curtains and gay streamers, filled with 
 joyous men, women, and children, not forgetting 
 well-packed baskets of provisions, should briskly 
 trot along the road to the sound of flute, horn, 
 and fiddle, amid shouts and shrill huzzas. On 
 arriving at the forest they drive up to some 
 well-known public-house, alight, form into small 
 parties, and straggle off, some one way, some 
 another, as the fancy takes them; some leaping 
 over bushes, some slinging at boles of trees, some 
 chasing squirrels, some sitting in the shade, or 
 straying along in harmonious chat, till summoned 
 to dine on the grass." 
 
 " Pleasant enough, too," said Ellen. 
 
 "Pleasant enough, only not so innocent on a 
 Sunday as on a week-day," interposed Mr. 
 Bolter. 
 
 "Still, when you consider," said John, "how 
 many poor fellows at that side of London are shut 
 up at their looms from morning to night in close 
 
 D2
 
 58 Town and Fore/I. 
 
 lodgings, you cannot mucli wonder at their wish- 
 ing to inflate their lungs with a little fresh air one 
 day in seven as I could not help thinking this 
 morning while the lark sang over our heads and 
 the thrush and blackbird from the bushes. Every 
 minute my step grew more elastic, I drew up my 
 head, threw forward my chest, and felt twice the 
 man I was at starting ! After walking a con- 
 siderable way, the road was becoming rather 
 lonely, when suddenly a wild-looking gipsy-man 
 sprang out upon us from behind a bush." 
 
 " Dear me ! " exclaimed Ellen. 
 
 " He had a small tattered piece of printed 
 paper in his hand ; arid, holding it close to Mr. 
 Bolter's face, pointed with his finger to a row 
 of large letters, and said eagerly, ' What . are 
 those ? ' 
 
 " ' Selling off/ said Mr. Bolter. 
 
 " ' Thank you, thank you/ said he gratefully ; 
 ' perhaps you will read me the whole line/ 
 
 " ' Selling off under prime cost/ 
 
 " ' Thank you, thank you ! ' and away he was
 
 Hainault For eft. 59 
 
 darting, when Mr. Bolter said, 'May I ask, my 
 good friend, for what purpose you inquired ? ' 
 
 " ' Certainly/ said he, looking rather surprised 
 at the kind tone and expression. ' I am trying to 
 learn to read; and, having neither book nor 
 teacher, I sometimes stand beside a finger-post 
 till some one goes by, and then ask them the 
 name of the letters composing one or two short 
 words.* You cannot think how pleased I was 
 to find I could read To London! 
 
 " ' You must be a spirited, persevering fellow/ 
 cried Mr. Bolter, 'to encounter so many 
 difficulties with so few encouragements. How 
 is it you can get neither book nor teacher ? ' 
 
 " ' Ah/ said he, with a half-melancholy smile, 
 ' I am one of a despised race. Who would teach 
 the poor gipsy ? ' 
 
 " '/would ! ' said Mr. Bolter. 
 
 " ' "Would you ? ' cried he joyfully. ' Then give 
 me a lesson at once/ 
 
 * Authentic.
 
 60 Town and Fore/I. 
 
 " ' I am pressed for time now/ said Mr. Bolter, 
 ' for I want to reach a given place by a certain 
 time ; but come, walk along with us a little way, 
 and we can talk as we go/ 
 
 " The gipsy cheerfully complied. 
 
 " ' Is there any particular book you want to 
 read/ continued Mr. Bolter, ( that makes you so 
 desirous to learn ? ' 
 
 " ' Certainly there is/ replied the gipsy. 
 
 "'What is it?' 
 
 " ' Why it escapes me at this moment, but 
 yet I am told it contains a good deal about my 
 ancestors. It is called hum ! I shall forget my 
 own name next ! ' 
 
 " ' What is your name ? ' 
 
 " ' Pharaoh/ 
 
 " I confess I started. 
 
 " ' Pharaoh Smith/ continued the gipsy. 
 (What a come-down!) 'I'm. descended from 
 King Pharaoh/ 
 
 " ' There were many kings called Pharaoh, my 
 good friend/
 
 Hainault Foreft. 61 
 
 " f Well, I 'm descended from one of them 
 perhaps from all. That makes me so anxious 
 to read the book, because I think I may find in it 
 something to my advantage/ 
 
 " ' That you are pretty sure to do if the book 
 be what I think the Bible ! ' 
 
 " ' That 's the very name ! ' cried Pharaoh, with 
 delight. ' Oh, do teach me to read it ! I '11 shoe 
 your horse, if you have one, for nothing/ 
 
 " ( Without shoeing my horse (which I have 
 not), you shall learn of me to read if we can but 
 fix on time and place suitable for us both ; but, if 
 I give you a reading-lesson at all to-day, it must 
 be a very short one. Come with us, however, 
 where we are going to a certain spot in the 
 forest, where I shall hold a meeting for all who 
 like to come, and read some of the very book 
 you want to read so much yourself. Will 
 you?' 
 
 " ' Thankfully ! ' replied the gipsy ; and, as we 
 walked onward, Mr. Bolter began to teach him 
 the names of the letters of the alphabet by rate, in
 
 62 Toivn and For eft. 
 
 their regular order. Presently we came up to 
 a small river or brook, beside which a man and a 
 boy were fishing. ' I must speak to this couple/ 
 said Mr. Bolter quietly. 'Go you forward 
 together, and continue the alphabet, and I will 
 join you in a few minutes.' T7e did so, and 
 therefore of course I cannot tell you what 
 passed." 
 
 " But I can," interposed Mr. Bolter, who for 
 some time had felt inclined to chime in. " I 
 offered the man a tract, and observed, I was sorry 
 to see him fishing on a Sunday. He replied, he 
 was confined to a close workshop all the week, 
 and thought there could be no harm in getting a 
 little fresh air on that day. I observed, there was 
 no harm in fresh air, but a great deal of good, and 
 the same might be saiol of fishing, with limitations. 
 Some of Jesus Christ's disciples were fishermen, but 
 they did not pursue their calling on the Sabbath. 
 He replied, he did not believe in Jesus Christ. 
 
 'Ah/ said I, 'we none of us can believe 
 that of which we know nothing; and perhaps
 
 Hainault Foreft. 63 
 
 you kiiow little enough of Him' 'I have read 
 the New Testament/ replied he carelessly. ' And 
 remember that passage, doubtless/ said I, ' where 
 He called His disciples away from their fishing, 
 saying, He would make them fishers of men. 
 And yet, in the lawful pursuit of their calling, He 
 twice vouchsafed them a miraculous draught, 
 insomuch that their net brake/ 
 
 " { O yes, I know all about that/ said he, with 
 some impatience. 
 
 "'Know, and yet do not believe/ said I. 
 ' How comes that ? ' 
 
 " He was silent. 
 
 " ' Come/ said I, putting my Testament into his 
 hand, open at the first chapter of St. John's 
 Gospel, ' tell me how do you understand that ? ' 
 
 " He looked annoyed, but took it in his hand, 
 and soon returned it to me. ' I confess/ said he, 
 ' I cannot understand it at all.' 
 
 " ' Ah, my friend/ said I, ' I expected to find it 
 so ; and why ? It is written, The natural man 
 receivetk not the things of the Spirit of God, for
 
 64 Town and Fore/I. 
 
 they are foolishness to him, neither can lie know 
 them, because they are spiritually discerned. It 
 is plain, therefore, that the reason this book is 
 foolishness to you, is because you are as yet only 
 what the Scriptures call a natural man, however 
 clever, as a natural man, you may be/ 
 
 " ' And pray what are you ? ' said he, with an 
 air of pique. 
 
 " ' A fisher for souls,' replied I quickly, ' and 
 therefore in the lawful pursuit of my calling, even 
 on the Sabbath, when fishing for you ! ' 
 
 " ' Ah ! I shan't bite, though/ said he, playing 
 with his rod. 
 
 " ' Many a fish thinks that before he 's caught/ 
 replied I cheerfully 'Come, put up your tackle 
 and come along with me I'll show you better 
 sport than that/ 
 
 " ' Where ? ' said he, irresolutely. 
 
 " ' Where I fish for souls/ 
 
 " ' Well if I do, it will only be for a bit of a 
 lark ' 
 
 " ' For a lark or no lark, come along/
 
 Hainault Foreft. 6$ 
 
 " ( Let 's go, father/ says the boy. 
 
 " ' Come along, then/ said he, briskly collecting- 
 his things together, 'the fish won't bite here, at- 
 any rate, to-day, and we may as well have sport of 
 one kind or other/ 
 
 " ' And I've a pleasant companion to introduce- 
 you to, a little in advance/ said I. 
 
 " ' Oh, well, all the better/ said he, his good- 
 humour rapidly rising ; ( I like a good companion- 
 any day of the week/ " 
 
 "Much obliged for the compliment," said John r 
 laughing. " I 'in afraid it was only a bait for a- 
 silly fish. However, I won't take the word out of" 
 your mouth." 
 
 "Now you go on." 
 
 " No, you." 
 
 "No, I'm tired I like to hear you." 
 
 "Well, Ellen, when I saw our friend coming' 
 along with two more disciples at his heels, I began* 
 to wonder whether he would have twelve before 
 our walk was ended he was evidently at our 
 Lord's own work. As soon as we joined forces,
 
 66 Town and Fore/I. 
 
 we all fell into easy talk about the weather, the 
 country, the late harvest, the forest, the com- 
 parative amount of inclosed and uninclosed land, 
 which brought us all familiarly together, and 
 which Bolter knew how to make interesting and 
 entertaining to all. The gipsy and little boy were 
 the only silent ones, but they listened attentively, 
 and gave us a bright glance now and then, the 
 one with his black, the other with his blue eyes. 
 Presently, something being said about the birds 
 singing all about us, the gipsy found a subject on 
 which he really had a great deal to say that was 
 curious. Just in the midst of it all, as we were 
 passing, almost without noticing, a straggling row 
 of shabby houses with a public-house in the midst, 
 and a crowd of idle fellows hanging about it till 
 the door should open, Bolter said, 'Go forward, 
 all of you, till I join you or, stay, you can help 
 me, if you will let us give each of these people 
 a tract;' and, before another word could be 
 uttered, we all to our surprise found a handful 
 of tracts stuffed into our hands, and ourselves
 
 Ha.inault Foreft. 67 
 
 distributing them in silence, while our chief 
 addressed a few words to each words so 
 appropriate, Ellen, that I thought if I could 
 speak like that, I'd become a missionary this 
 minute ! " 
 
 " It would come to you quite naturally/' said 
 Mr. Bolter. "Our Lord's standing orders are 
 the same ' yesterday, to-day, and for ever ' ' Take 
 no thought what ye shall say, neither premeditate, 
 for it shall be given you/ " 
 
 "Well, then, it was a promise fulfilled," said 
 John, " for it certainly was given you. The little 
 boy, as we walked away, said artlessly 
 
 " ' That was a jolly lark, wasn't it, father ? ' 
 
 " ' Jolly ! ' replied he, hardly knowing whether 
 to look pleased or not ; but the next instant I saw 
 the boy's hand locked in his. 
 
 " ' To think of my being a tract-distributor ! ' 
 said he. 
 
 " ' Ay, 'tis you educated fellows that are hardest 
 to win,' said Bolter cheerily; 'just as it was 
 with St. Paul how he did hale about the poor
 
 68 Town and Forejl. 
 
 Christians, to be sure, before he came to a better 
 mind!' 
 
 " I could see at a glance that the assumption of 
 his being an educated man pleased our com- 
 panion. 
 
 " 'Anybody can disbelieve/ pursued Mr. Bolter. 
 'It is only the Avell-inforuied that can give a 
 reason for the hope that is in them/ 
 
 " ' That never struck me/ observed the other. 
 
 "'Here now/ pursued Mr. Bolter, 'is an 
 ignorant poor fellow, who would willingly believe 
 if he could, but does not know how he does not 
 know how to read, and therefore of course cannot 
 read the Bible, though it is the book he wishes to 
 master above all others, because he expects to find 
 in it something about his own particular friends 
 and relations/ 
 
 " Our companion looked askance, first at Bolter 
 and then at the gipsy, as much as to say, ' What 
 can you mean ? ' and I confess I thought he was 
 on dangerous ground, especially with the gipsy, 
 but a glance at him reassured me.
 
 Hainault Fore/I. 69 
 
 " ' This good man/ pursued Bolter, ' is of 
 Egyptian descent, nay, he has been led to suppose, 
 even of royal extraction. Now, I need not tell a 
 man of your reading that there is a great deal 
 about Egypt and the Egyptians in the Bible. It 
 gives us the very earliest notices of them that we 
 have, it tells us of the nature of the country 
 fiat, scorchingly hot, destitute of rain, and liable 
 to be parched and absolutely uninhabitable, were 
 it not watered by a most wonderful river, the Nile, 
 or Nahal, which signifies black ' 
 
 " ' Just so ! ' ejaculated Pharaoh, drawing closer 
 to him. 
 
 " ' You see,' said Mr. Bolter to the other, with 
 a significant look, 'he corroborates the truth, of 
 the Bible, though he can't read a word of it/ 
 
 " ' Go on, sir, please ! ' cried Pharaoh, ' go on 
 about my country ! ' 
 
 " ( This wonderful river/ continued Mr. Bolter, 
 ' overflows its banks at stated seasons, and waters 
 the ground so thoroughly that the Egyptians, who 
 in early times seem to have had more wisdom, as
 
 70 Town and For eft. 
 
 regards this world, than any other people upon 
 earth, knew how to turn this superfluity of water 
 to the best account, by digging innumerable little 
 channels through their fields, which received the 
 overflow and supplied the want of other moisture. 
 Hence a country naturally sandy became clad in 
 herbage of the most vivid green, and abundantly 
 brought forth juicy, luscious fruits, and vegetables, 
 cucumbers, gourds, melons that melted in the 
 mouth, and were called abdelerin, or slave of 
 sweetness. But mark what befell : the Egyptians, 
 not content with being grateful for their noble 
 river, began to be grateful to it, and at length to 
 worship it as a god just as if we were to wor- 
 ship the river Thames ! ' 
 
 "In this way he went on, and you may 
 imagine, Ellen, our interest in hearing him. 
 "We were interrupted by coming up with a man 
 with a gun, going out to shoot small birds. Of 
 course Mr. Bolter had a parley with him, and he, 
 too, was persuaded to join him. I cannot tell % 
 you how time passed, nor what distance we went
 
 Hainault Forejl. 71 
 
 \re ' took no note of time ' but presently we saw 
 people coming out of a neat church : we stopped 
 and counted how many only nineteen! And 
 there had been twenty waiting at the public- 
 house. ' I wonder, sir/ said our friend with the 
 fishing-rod, 'that you were not in church this 
 morning/ 
 
 "'My dear man/ cried Mr. Bolter affec- 
 tionately, ' I should have liked it of all things, but 
 I would gladly be away from it one Sunday, ay, 
 twenty Sundays, to save you ! ' 
 
 "Ellen! the man was overcome; he was on 
 the very brink of bursting into tears, but did not, 
 which I was glad of, especially before his little 
 boy, because it would have humbled him too 
 much. He wrung Mr. Bolter's hand. ' Oh, sir/ 
 says he, r oh, sir ! you 've subdued me ! You Ve 
 nearly unmanned me ! What a man you must 
 be! Sure nobody can withstand you/ Mr. 
 Bolter responded warmly, and then resumed a 
 more equable tone, though all of us were more 
 or less affected. At length we reached the spot,
 
 ' 
 
 72 Town and Fore/I. 
 
 ;an open space near a country public-house, where 
 .crowds of pleasure-seekers were assembled. Mr. 
 Bolter then briefly told us his plans, and arranged 
 with us to keep near him and form a nucleus, as 
 it were, for a congregation, while he commenced 
 .an open-air service. He intended to hold three 
 or four in the course of the day, but settled to 
 <meet Pharaoh beneath a certain old oak at a 
 ^certain time before dark, to give him a reading- 
 lesson. He did not keep his appointment, 
 however, for the service was prolonged rather 
 more than he was aware of, and at its conclusion, 
 .a portly man-servant, in rich but plain livery, came 
 to him with a message, and detained him so long, 
 -4hat when we reached the oak, it was nearly dark, 
 .and Pharaoh was not there." 
 " What a pity \" said Ellen. 
 ' There was yet much to tell and talk over ; and 
 rihe evening concluded, like the previous one, with 
 ^fervent family prayer.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 COUNTRY QUARTERS. 
 
 But lift the eye 
 
 And hail the abode of rural ease, that looks 
 The mistress of the scene. 
 
 BOWLES. 
 
 A S Ellen proceeded to Mrs. Meeke's the next 
 morning, she thought of Margaret; and, 
 remembering that Mrs. Meeke contemplated the 
 purchase of a new carpet, she considered whether 
 she might with propriety induce her to let Margaret 
 make it, after stating what she knew of her story. 
 All this was driven completely out of her head, 
 however, by the news that awaited her at "the 
 
 E
 
 74 Town and Forejl. 
 
 Square." Mrs. Meeke came to her with a face of 
 woe, to tell her that the two youngest of her 
 children, who had seemed so poorly on Saturday, 
 now proved to have the scarlet fever a disease 
 she particularly dreaded, having lost a fine little 
 girl by it already. It was, therefore, her great 
 object to remove the three others immediately from 
 the danger of infection ; and as Mr. Meeke's elder 
 brother, a much richer man than himself, was at 
 present on the Continent, and had left his country 
 house at their disposal for the next month, she 
 wished to send them thither immediately. Un- 
 fortunately she had no one to whom to intrust 
 them her own sisters were in Scotland. Would 
 Miss Miller undertake the charge ? 
 
 Ellen said she would most gladly do so, but for 
 her brother and the shop ; however, she would 
 hasten back and consult him. Betsy Brick would 
 perhaps attend to the shop in his absence, and 
 Mrs. Fuller, her aunt, would see that he wanted 
 for nothing. 
 
 Mrs. Meeke begged her to make all the haste
 
 Country Quarters. j$ 
 
 she could, as the fly was already sent for: the 
 distance to Tranquil Vale was but thirty miles, 
 and though they could go quicker by rail, a fly 
 would be safer, and time was no object. The old 
 woman who was left in charge of Tranquil Yale 
 had been desired to expect them at any time, 
 therefore they would not take her by surprise. 
 
 Tranquil Vale ! there was a charm in the very 
 sound. Ellen had always heard much of the 
 beauty of Kent in general, and of Tranquil Vale 
 in particular; therefore, as she hurried off to 
 John, she thought less of being about to do a very 
 kind thing than a very pleasant one. 
 
 John, who was always grateful to Mrs. Meeke 
 for her kindness to his sister, was sincerely glad 
 Ellen could show her any kindness in return. 
 He hoped she would enjoy herself very much; 
 there was a full fortnight of October yet, and he 
 expected she would live on the fat of the land, 
 and ramble about the country with the children 
 from morning till dusk, and write him the nicest 
 of letters, and come home as fresh as a rose. As
 
 76 Town and Forejl. 
 
 for Mr. Bolter and himself oh, they should have 
 jolly bachelor doings in her absence, he promised 
 her! 
 
 Ellen, well satisfied with his concurrence, next 
 sought out her neighbour, Mrs. Puller. Quiet 
 Mr. Fuller was, as usual, peering over his watch- 
 mending in the little shop ; he looked up, nodded, 
 smiled, and told her she would find his "good 
 lady" within. Now Mrs. Fuller, though a 
 stirring woman, was likewise a kind one, very 
 partial to Ellen, and capable, as she often said, of 
 doing twice the work of her own little house. 
 Therefore, when this opportunity offered of doing 
 the work of two little houses, she did not feign 
 reluctance, but closed with the offer at once ; and 
 when Ellen expressed regret at giving so much 
 trouble, she said heartily, " My dear Miss Miller, 
 don't name it ; nothing is a trouble that we can do 
 for you ! I will attend to your brother and your 
 lodger as carefully as you could do yourself; and, 
 in their absence, Betsy 'shall look after the shop." 
 So, what could Ellen do but express her grate-
 
 Country Quarters. 77 
 
 ful thanks, and leave her love for Betsy, who was 
 out, and then hasten to pack up her things for 
 the country ? To one who so seldom left home, 
 it was a pity that so much pleasure must be 
 packed and squeezed, like her clothes, into so 
 small a space. Had she known of it a month 
 beforehand, the very anticipation would have de- 
 lighted her all the month. However, it is no 
 good, when we have one apple-pie given us, to 
 regret that it is not two : the thing was very 
 delightful as it was ; there was no drawback but 
 the illness of the two children, and she hoped and 
 had very little doubt they would do well. 
 
 Having finished her packing, therefore, and 
 found a man to carry her box, she hastened back 
 to Adelaide Square, where the fly was already 
 being loaded at Mrs. Meeke's door, and the 
 children in the hall ready to get in. Mrs. Meeke 
 was very glad to see her, put some money in 
 her hand, hasty farewells took place, and away 
 they went. With three very lively little girls 
 for her companions, and an entirely new road to
 
 78 Town and For eft. 
 
 travel, it was no wonder that Ellen did not think 
 of Margaret. 
 
 The tall poles still stood in the hop -fields, 
 though the hop-picking was over. Every fresh 
 turn of the road brought something beautiful, 
 picturesque, or interesting in sight : country inns, 
 country villages, country churches, country seats, 
 country lanes, country commons and heaths, 
 sprinkled with geese and goslings, donkeys, rough 
 ponies, cattle, and now and then a gipsy-tent, 
 called forth continual emotions of pleasure in 
 Ellen, who endeavoured to convey the same im- 
 pressions to her young companions. Ellen's 
 mother had been the daughter of an artist, who 
 had imparted some taste for the beautiful in 
 nature and art to his children; hence her eye 
 was not wholly unaccustomed to look out for 
 happy effects and good groupings; and if this 
 often gave a passing interest in the ordinary, 
 unpoetical things around her, how rapturous was 
 it to look around where nothing met the eye but 
 sights of bliss and beauty! The children were
 
 Country Quarters. 79 
 
 in high spirits, and willing enough to be amused at 
 anything or nothing ; but by far the greatest treats 
 of the day to them were the cold dinner eaten in 
 the fly, and their passing through a country fair 
 with plenty of gay booths and gingerbread-stalls. 
 
 The sun was gloriously setting when they 
 turned off into a by-road with steep banks and 
 high hedges, which brought them, first to a turn- 
 pike, then to a straggling little village and village 
 church; then to a sudden break in the hedge 
 and bank, which disclosed, at about two hundred 
 paces from the road, overlooking a smooth-shaven 
 lawn, an antique little Elizabethan mansion with 
 
 " Three ancient peaks, that nodded o'er 
 An ancient porch, which nodded more." 
 
 " Tranquil Yale ! " shouted the children : and 
 truly it deserved its name. The lawn was only 
 edged by a stone coping, and divided from the 
 road by a sunk fence, which any one with a run 
 and leap might easily have cleared. Two or three 
 white and red cows were chewing the cud in 
 the shade, a peacock stood on the parapet, and
 
 80 Town and Forejl. 
 
 a wreath of thin blue smoke was rising from 
 one of the old spiral chimney-stacks against the 
 dark background of a rookery. 
 
 Ellen thought the place looked a perfect 
 paradise. The driver got down to open a swing- 
 gate, and then drove up to the house. A large 
 dog began to bark, and an old woman, the neatest 
 of the neat, came to the door, shading her eyes 
 from the setting sunlight, which glittered on every 
 diamond -shaped window-pane. She came out 
 smiling and courtesying. 
 
 "All's ready, miss," said she; "bless the little 
 dears ! Master told me to expect them at any 
 time. The beds are aired, and I've plenty of 
 bread and butter in the house, for I've always 
 been looking out for a charrot-full o' children \" 
 
 It was very pleasant to be so heartily welcomed. 
 Ellen paid the man, after seeing the luggage taken 
 out ; and then entered the house all smiles. The 
 children were already scampering round the quaint 
 flower-beds, gay as a patchwork counterpane, with 
 the great Newfoundland dog, Neptune.
 
 Country Quarters. 81 
 
 The coloured glass in the hall windows made 
 the hall rather dark. It was of stone, with a 
 Turkey carpet in the middle. There were old 
 oak chairs, an old oaken table, a barometer, a 
 curious clock, and a large dark mahogany chest 
 or coffer, bright as glass, and lined with faded 
 green baize, that would have held all Mrs. Meeke's 
 children, and left room to spare. It reminded 
 Ellen of the old story of the bride who played 
 at hide and seek on her wedding day, and shut 
 herself up in an old oak chest, which she was 
 unable to open again, because she did not know 
 the secret of the spring-lock. 
 
 " I were lonesome, biding here all day by my- 
 self," said Mrs, Quain, " though I had Kitty to 
 sleep with me ; so I 'm glad you 're come." 
 
 Kitty was a girl of fourteen, with cheeks as 
 round, hard, and glazy as apples, and eyes as 
 black as sloes. 
 
 Mrs. Quain showed Ellen into the drawing- 
 room, which had a tall, wide lattice-window at 
 each end, and looked very snug, though there 
 
 E2
 
 82 Town and Forejl. 
 
 were no lady's nick-nacks to be seen, nor yet a 
 piano old Mr. Meeke being a bachelor. The 
 dining-room was oak-panelled, low, dark, and 
 snug also. The staircase had two or three land- 
 ings and very shallow oaken stairs, carpeted with 
 red drugget. The bedrooms were small, but 
 pretty, with chintz furniture lined with green, 
 blue, and yellow. Mrs. Quain shook out her 
 master's warm dressing-gown, folded it up, and 
 put it away. 
 
 " That gave me a precious fright one night/' 
 said she to Ellen. " I 'd hung it out to air (for 
 we're bothered with moths), and, coming up at 
 dusk to turn down the bed, took it for a man ! 
 It gave me quite a turn : for we Ve had some 
 very bad robberies in these parts." 
 
 "I think the less you say of them in the 
 children's hearing the better," said Ellen. 
 
 Mrs. Quain gave a knowing look, as much as 
 to say, "Trust me for that," and hurried off to 
 bring up more packages. When that was done, 
 she left Ellen to unpack, and went off to get
 
 Country Quarters. 83 
 
 tea and boil a liberal supply of eggs. As neither 
 hunger nor the means of appeasing it were want- 
 ing, the meal was a very hearty one, seasoned with 
 abundance of harmless mirth; and the children 
 being very tired were glad to go early to bed. 
 
 Ellen lingered on the same floor till they were 
 fast asleep, and then went downstairs to look 
 about her, examine the books, enjoy a good 
 lounge in an easy chair, and feel a luxurious 
 sense of novelty, tinctured by the slightest touch 
 of awe. This apprehensiveness was not diminished 
 when Mrs. Quain brought in her supper, and 
 lingered to tell her alt the horrible stories she 
 had conscientiously bottled up before the 
 children. 
 
 " You will frighten me so," said Ellen at last, 
 " that I shall not be able to sleep a wink." 
 
 So then Mrs. Quain begged pardon, and said 
 she had not thought of that, and she hoped 
 nothing of the kind might happen now, for that 
 she looked very carefully after all the fastenings. 
 
 Ellen hoped she did, and began to feel that
 
 84 Town and Fore/I. 
 
 even a paradise may be spoilt to us if we live in 
 apprehension of thieves. 
 
 She went to bed, timid as a hare, and thought 
 she should not sleep; however, fatigue brought 
 its own remedy, and she did not even dream. 
 "When the bright morning sun streamed into her 
 room she laughed at her midnight terrors, and 
 rose, fresh and cheerful, while the children in the 
 adjoining room were waging a mock fight with 
 their pillows. 
 
 These active young spirits kept Ellen pretty 
 much on the gui vive from six in the morning to 
 eight in the evening; so that it was quite a 
 refreshment to her to leave them asleep and 
 quietly return to the parlour, to dip into some old 
 book, or indulge in reverie. Though her days 
 were fatiguing, however, they were highly enjoy- 
 able. She was of a sociable turn, and fond of the 
 companionship of children ; and she took them 
 long scrambling walks, and helped them to hunt 
 for blackberries, nuts, and wild flowers. They 
 soon found out she was a capital story-teller ;
 
 Country Quarters. 85 
 
 and they would cluster round her, begging her to 
 tell of Whittington, or Prince Arthur, or Goody 
 Two-shoes, or the aforenamed spring-lock, till 
 they scampered off to chase a rabbit or squirrel. 
 
 Two books were especially amusing to Ellen 
 during her solitary evenings Defoe's " History 
 of the Plague," and the " Life of Thomas Ellwood 
 the Quaker/' They were thin folio volumes, 
 printed in large type, with a plentiful sprinkling 
 of capital letters, which pleased her eye, and often, 
 she thought, gave force to the meaning. She was 
 deeply impressed by the account of the \vay ins 
 which the plague first broke out in London, 
 and at length desolated the city ; and she 
 delighted in the adventures of the three poor 
 men the soldier, the sailor, and the joiner, who 
 made themselves a little tent, got a small horse to 
 carry their luggage, and resolved to live in Epping 
 Forest till the pestilence ceased : how they 
 "went away east, through Ratcliffe Highway, as 
 far as Ratcliffe Cross, leaving Stepney Church 
 still oil their left hand : " how the watchman
 
 86 Town and Fore/I, 
 
 placed on Bow Bridge would have questioned 
 them, and how they got out of his way : how they 
 journeyed on till they got into the great north 
 road on the top of Stamford Hill : how they then 
 felt weary, and resolved to encamp and set up 
 their tent for the first night, which they did, 
 against the back of a barn, having first ascertained 
 that the barn had no one in it : how, while two 
 went to sleep, the third, being a military man, 
 resolved to keep sentry and guard his companions : 
 how he gravely paced to and fro, shouldering his 
 gun, till he heard a sound of many people 
 approaching, whom, when they got quite close, 
 he startled by crying, "TV ho goes there?" on 
 which one of them said to the others in a 
 melancholy voice, " Alas, alas ! we are dis- 
 appointed; here are some people before us, and 
 the barn is taken up ! " Then it went on to 
 relate how that, after much parleying, it proved 
 that the new comers were a large party of 
 harmless people, well - provisioned, who had 
 reckoned on this barn for shelter ; in consequence
 
 Country Quarters. 87 
 
 of which the three comrades gave it up to them 
 on the morrow and started for Epping Forest. 
 They then began to find their horse rather more 
 plague than profit, because it was needful to keep 
 on some kind of an open track, and they could not 
 hastily slip him out of sight when they saw any 
 one coming. Being warned off Walthamstow by 
 constables and watchmen, they began to fear they 
 should be starved, and finding an exaggerated 
 report of their numbers had got about, John 
 the soldier resolved to take advantage of it, and 
 obtain by stratagem what he could not have done 
 by force. 
 
 Towards dark, therefore, having artfully dis- 
 posed his companions among the trees, and lighted 
 several fires, he himself patrolled the edge of the 
 wood, shouldering his musket, in full sight, and 
 presently was accosted, as he hoped to be, by a 
 terrified constable who kept at a safe distance. 
 John the soldier had no scruple in leading him 
 to suppose that a considerable body of desperate 
 men were lurking in the wood, who were nearly
 
 88 Town and Foreji. 
 
 perishing with hunger, and if not supplied with 
 food would certainly burst into the town during 
 the night and help themselves. Consequence was, 
 the Walthamstow folk sent the wily old rogue 
 twenty loaves and three or four large pieces of 
 beef, and thanked them for being contented. 
 
 There was a good deal more about these men, 
 and the various adventures they had in the forest. 
 The book enthralled Ellen for several nights, and 
 when she went to bed it was to dream of a merry 
 camp life in 
 
 " The good green wood, 
 Where mavis and merle are singing." 
 
 Then she attacked the "Life of Thomas Ellwood," 
 whose father, a country justice, kept his coach, 
 his hunters, Ms greyhounds, and lived in an old 
 house hung with armour, pictures, and coats of 
 arms, though he appears to have been not much 
 richer than Don Quixote, and only kept a man 
 and a maid. 
 
 Sweet Guli Springett seemed to give a hawthorn
 
 Country Quarters. 89 
 
 perfume to the book. First, there was Little 
 Tom, riding with her in her child's coach, drawn 
 by a man-servant, in Lincoln's Inn Fields. After- 
 wards, Tom, when a young man of twenty, took a 
 fifteen-mile ride with his father to call on Guli's 
 mother, Lady Springett, who, meanwhile, had 
 married a rigid Quaker, Isaac Pennington. "While 
 the old lady and gentleman are conversing, Tom 
 finds his way into the garden, where he meets 
 Guli, attended by her maid. Young as she was, 
 he found her so stiff-starched that there was no 
 getting on with her; and, as he and his father 
 rode home, they agreed that their old friends were 
 changed for the worse. 
 
 Tom, however, Avas smitten, and soon found his 
 way back to Lady Springett's, where he soon 
 received Quaker impressions, and began to make 
 a conscience of withholding titles of respect from 
 his friends, and keeping his head covered in his 
 father's presence. This greatly displeasing the old 
 gentleman, he made it his point of conscience to 
 pluck Tom's hat off his head and throw it out of
 
 90 Town and Forejl. 
 
 window, and then drive him to his own room, 
 buffeting him by the way, and now and then 
 " giving his ear a good whirret." 
 
 Having lost all his hats, and also his cap, one 
 of the hats was restored by the relenting, though 
 hot-tempered father, at the entreaty of Lady 
 Springett, in order that he might pay her a visit 
 of some little duration ; that is, " from the time 
 called Easter to the time called* Whitsuntide." 
 Tom returned home more of a Quaker than ever, 
 of course ; and on his sitting down to table in his 
 hat, his father coolly observed, " Tom, if you can't 
 dine without your hive upon your head, you had 
 better dine somewhere else." 
 
 His ensuing course is both highly diverting and 
 interesting. His father kept him almost in cap- 
 tivity. At length one day he took to his heels, 
 his father after him; but the old justice, being 
 scant of breath, was soon distanced, and pausing 
 to recover himself, muttered, " Nay, an' he will 
 take so much pains to go, let him go if he 
 will."
 
 Country Quarters. QI 
 
 Thenceforth Ellwood followed his own devices, 
 which often led him into difficulties. At one 
 time he was secretary to Milton. 
 
 All this to read did Ellen seriously incline.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 GREY NUNS. 
 
 The city's domes and far-off spires appear, 
 Breaking the long horizon, where the morn 
 Sits blue and soft : what glowing imagery 
 Is spread beneath ! Towns, villages, light smoke, 
 And scarce-seen windmill sails, and devious woods. 
 
 BOWLES. 
 
 /^\N the Monday which saw Ellen conveyed to 
 Tranquil Vale, Mr. Bolter started early for 
 the scene of the preceding day's adventures. As 
 time was an object, he took an omnibus, which 
 carried him some miles out of London. He then 
 turned into a well-kept by-road, skirted, to the 
 right, by an old grey park-paling, enamelled with 
 varieties of minute green and gold-coloured mosses,
 
 Grey Nuns. 93 
 
 and overhung by noble trees that occasionaUj shed 
 an acorn or horse-chestnut at his feet. 
 
 A little way up he reached a pretty rose- 
 covered lodge, and, passing through the swing- 
 gate, he proceeded up a carriage-drive to a fine 
 stone-built mansion, with all due adjuncts of 
 coach-houses, stables, conservatory, forcing-houses, 
 aviary, and fish-ponds. Several varieties of rare 
 water-fowl disported themselves on the latter; 
 partridges, gold and silver pheasants, plovers, and 
 peewits fed on the grass ; tame hares darted across 
 the lawn; and even a fox, sly fellow, seemed 
 dozing in his kennel, though whether he were 
 shamming was past the wit of man to determine. 
 
 This place as completely captivated Mr. Bolter's 
 fancy as the humbler beauties of Tranquil Vale 
 delighted Ellen. He murmured to himself, 
 
 " Eetirement, rural quiet, friendship, books, 
 Progressive virtue, arid approving heaven " 
 
 and lightly ran up the portico-steps, and rang the 
 deep-toned house-bell. The rosy-cheeked footman 
 who had accosted him the previous day, answered
 
 94 Town and Forejl. 
 
 the summons, and, with a silent smile, ushered 
 him at once into a lofty, spacious, cheerful morn- 
 ing room. 
 
 All the furniture of this room, except the fine 
 net under-curtains, was drab of various shades, 
 " each under each," matching each other like 
 Duke Theseus' hunting-dogs. There were no 
 pictures on the walls, but plenty of brilliant 
 flowers arranged about the room, together with 
 gay foreign birds and beetles, brilliant shells and 
 sparkling minerals, under glass cases. The prin- 
 cipal table was covered with beautifully-bound 
 books, circling round a thick quarto Bible. There 
 were gold and silver fish darting within a glass globe; 
 there was a cockatoo on a perch, and a Persian cat 
 on a cushion. The view of lawn and garden from 
 the window, closed in by the forest, was charming. 
 
 Here Mr. Bolter was joined by a fair and 
 fresh - looking lady, between thirty and forty, 
 dressed in silver-grey silk, and 
 
 " With sable stole of Cyprus lawn, 
 Over her decent shoulders drawn."
 
 Grey Nuns. 95 
 
 Very little of her white throat was to be seen; 
 but an artist might have been proud to model the 
 arm and hand of this lady. Her fair, smooth- 
 parted hair, little concealed by a transparent cap, 
 shaded a brow that betokened intellect as much as 
 her mouth indicated sweetness; her complexion 
 was what Sir Joshua Reynolds would have 
 described, when he advised his pupils to "think 
 of a pearl and a peach ;" and her calm, placid, holy 
 aspect reminded one of the lovely lady in Comus. 
 
 " I fear," said she, in a peculiarly sweet voice, 
 "that thou hast studied my convenience at the 
 expense of thine own." 
 
 " By no means, madam," said Mr. Bolter; "my 
 wish is to pass all the remainder of the day in the 
 forest." 
 
 "This is not thy district, however," said the 
 lady. " Let us be seated." 
 
 " No, I am only on temporary duty here during 
 the illness of a brother missionary," said Mr. 
 Bolter. "He is better, however, and, in a few 
 days, I shall commence work in Hopkinsville
 
 g6 Town and Forejl. 
 
 the far less inviting district to which I am 
 appointed." 
 
 " I want to hear all about Hopkinsville," said 
 she, drawing her writing-case towards her. 
 " Give me minute details." 
 
 So then he told her all he had already told the 
 Millers, and a great deal more. She set it 
 all down, and now and then looked up at 
 him with intense interest, and gave one or two 
 sighs. 
 
 " This is sad," said she at last. " Something 
 must be done. "What is the first and greatest 
 want?" 
 
 "Men," said Mr. Bolter readily. "The right 
 men for the right places." 
 
 " Ah, thou art right ! " said she, again sighing. 
 et Instead of saying with Jeremiah, ' that mine 
 eyes were rivers of water/ I am ready to exclaim, 
 * that I were twenty home-missionaries ! ' " 
 
 " You would not supply the demand, madam," 
 said Mr. Bolter. 
 
 "And therefore," said she, "I will abstain
 
 Grey Nuns. 97 
 
 from wishing. It is better to pray than to wish. 
 Let us unite in prayer." 
 
 And, instead of waiting for Mr. Bolter to take 
 the initiative, she herself, after a short pause, 
 poured forth a stream of prayer so fervent, so 
 moving, so imploring, that Mr. Bolter thought he 
 had never heard anything to equal it, and was 
 deeply affected when she proceeded to pray 
 for himself. After another short pause 
 
 "Now/' said she softly, "do thou go 
 on." 
 
 He did so ; and concluded with feelings 
 strengthened and elevated. 
 
 "Ah," said she, "if we oftener agreed as 
 touching a thing we should ask, and asked if, it 
 would oftener be accorded." 
 
 "That's what / say," rejoined Mr. Bolter, 
 " or rather, it is what our blessed Lord has 
 said, which is more to the purpose." 
 
 Mrs. Truebury having rung the bell, a man- 
 servant entered with chocolate and rusks, served 
 on silver. The refreshment was very acceptable to
 
 98 Town and For eft. 
 
 Mr. Bolter, who was set at his ease by her par- 
 taking of it with him. 
 
 " Yes," resumed she, " men are the chief want, 
 and the wonder is they don't come forward. 
 They will go on a forlorn hope to the North Pole, 
 or penetrate Central Africa, for purposes of science 
 and commerce, nay, they will try to force Chris- 
 tianity into regions that as yet are really impene- 
 trable, while they leave a fearful amount of undone 
 work at home. A few converted at Jerusalem is 
 made much of : are there no Jews in Mary Axe ? 
 An enthusiastic young lady gets our government 
 into trouble by distributing the Scriptures in 
 Italy, against the law of the country : are there 
 no Koman Catholics in Seven Dials ? A brave, 
 romantic man attempts to convert the gipsies in 
 Spain : are there none in Epping Forest ? Truly, 
 they may say to us, as my little boy did to his 
 nurse, when she attempted to cut his meat, 
 ' Interfere with thine own plate ! ' ' 
 
 Mr. Bolter could not help laughing. 
 
 " Ah," continued she, " for the man who aims
 
 Grey Nuns. 99 
 
 to be, rather than appear to be a hero, there is 
 plenty of work at home. As one of your own 
 writers has said, ' It is true that, for the Golden 
 Valley, he may have the Commercial Road; he 
 may have streets for villages, courts for hamlets, 
 the pool for his nearest lake, the sewer for his 
 rivulet, and the scum of all the earth for his 
 disciples ; but such were the very scenes in which 
 the Apostle of the Gentiles fought with beasts and 
 bearded the lion in his den. In the eyes of 
 heaven, smoke-stained walls are as bright as leafy 
 groves, the dusty street as the flowery mead, and 
 the artisan's wan child as the blooming village 
 maiden/ " * 
 
 "True, quite true," said Mr. Bolter, "and 
 therefore I would not, if I could, exchange the 
 
 * 
 
 fetid lanes of Hopkinsville for the glades of 
 Hainault and Epping, though I shall be glad 
 when my seasoning is over." 
 
 "I shall make special prayer for thee," said 
 
 * " Times," Nov. 20, 1858.
 
 ioo Town and Foreft. 
 
 she simply. And then, after ruminating a little 
 over her notes, she said 
 
 " Though rather deeply engaged already, I and 
 a few Christian sisters, like-minded with myself, 
 will aid thee to the best of our ability and 
 judgment. "We will engage at once a large empty 
 room for schooling, whether morning or evening, 
 first day or any other day, and for exposition and 
 prayer-service." 
 
 " Oh, thank you, thank you, madam ! " 
 
 "I will also obtain a grant of school-books, 
 Testaments, and slates " 
 
 " Oh, thank you ! " 
 
 " And forms, and a long writing-table. Those 
 I will myself supply, and also a washing apparatus, 
 a few pounds of soap, and a few yards of coarse 
 towelling/' 
 
 " Delightful ! Oh, thank " 
 
 " Dost thee not think a lending library might 
 be started ? " 
 
 " If we had any books, and if any of the people 
 can read."
 
 Grey Nuns. 101 
 
 " They will soon learn when there is a tempta- 
 tion. This is all I can undertake for the 
 present." 
 
 " All ! you have set me afloat." 
 
 "May God prosper thy undertaking! Don't 
 sleep in that horrible place." 
 
 " No ; it will be my interest as well as comfort 
 to remain where I am. Pure air at night must 
 repair the effect of foul air by day." 
 
 " Dost thou feel it affect thee much ? " 
 
 " At present. On Saturday I returned to my 
 lodgings so excessively depressed by it that I was 
 quite ashamed afterwards that the kind persons I 
 lodge with should have seen me so low. Yester- 
 day, in the forest, I was as strong as a lion." 
 
 "Well, I will now speak of the matter for 
 which I sent to thee. There are many gipsies 
 hereabouts, and my husband is not very fond of 
 my visiting them he thinks them more in thy 
 way than mine. The day before yesterday a 
 gipsy-woman applied to me for relief for another 
 woman who was ill in the forest. I gave her
 
 IO2, Town and Fore/I. 
 
 temporal relief, and talked to her a little, but 
 made very little impression. There was something 
 very repelling to me in her ' dear lady/ ' beautiful 
 lady/ and so forth, by which she meant to pro- 
 pitiate me, but which had quite the contrary 
 effect. She did not seem to have the faintest 
 idea of religion. "Wilt thou seek out the encamp- 
 ment of these people, and try to find out what is 
 their state, what aid they require, and whether 
 there be any opening for good ? " 
 
 Mr. Bolter readily accepted the commission, 
 and Mrs. Truebury, saying she would show him 
 the nearest way to the forest through her own 
 grounds, took a parasol, and led the way through 
 a window opening on the lawn. 
 
 The weather, the walk, and the companion were 
 charming. As they went, Mr. Bolter related to 
 her his singular meeting with Pharaoh, to which 
 she listened with much interest, and they had a 
 good deal of desultory talk on the outcast race 
 to which he belonged. 
 
 At length they parted at a little wicket-gate,
 
 Grey Nuns. 103 
 
 which she locked after him; and she remained 
 watching him till he disappeared among the trees. 
 Then she turned homewards, and was presently 
 greeted by a lovely little boy who came running 
 from the house. Grey Nuns was its name; it 
 probably stood on the site of some old conventual 
 dwelling, though not a vestige of it remained. 
 
 Mr. Bolter walked on in a most cheerful, happy 
 frame, and thought how delightful it was to see 
 wealth, intellect, and goodness so combined as 
 in the instance before him. He had had an 
 education superior to that which his present 
 position seemed to demand, and could keenly 
 relish refinement and intelligence, though he volun- 
 tarily laboured among those who possessed 
 neither. 
 
 A few scattered leaves of a book lying among 
 the fern and brambles induced him to pick them 
 up and examine the nature of their contents. 
 They were dirty and tattered, but as soon as he 
 caught a glimpse of the words " Forest of Arden " 
 he smiled and read on as he walked, the birds
 
 io4 Town and Fore/I. 
 
 singing over his head, and the rabbits running 
 right and left. 
 
 And he read how an elder brother turned a 
 younger brother out of doors, and called his 
 venerable old steward " old dog." And how the 
 younger brother of a reigning duke plotted against 
 his elder brother, and chased him from his 
 dominions and reigned in his stead; and how 
 many good men and true followed the banished 
 duke into the Forest of Arden, where they lived 
 as merrily and a good deal more honestly than 
 Eobin Hood and his foresters bold. And how 
 young Orlando found his way to them, and also 
 the good duke's daughter Rosalind, and the 
 wicked duke's daughter Celia, who clearly loved 
 her cousin ; and how they dwelt in a little sheep- 
 cote buried in olive trees on the skirts of the 
 forest. How that . . . 
 
 Here ensued a gap of sundry pages, much to 
 Mr. Bolter's regret. Next he came to a song, 
 which, amid his immediate surroundings, seemed 
 charming
 
 Grey Nuns. 105 
 
 " Under the greenwood tree, 
 Who loves to live with me, 
 And tune his merry throat 
 Unto the sweet bird's note, 
 Come hither, come hither, come hither ! 
 Here shall he see 
 No enemy 
 But winter and rough weather. 
 
 " Who doth ambition shun, 
 And loves to live i' the sun, 
 Seeking the food he eats, 
 And pleased with what he gets, 
 Come hither, come hither, come hither! 
 Here shall he see 
 No enemy 
 But winter and rough weather." 
 
 Oh, world, thy slippery turns ! Orlando's cruel 
 elder brother Oliver, thinking that to be sure he 
 shall find countenance and acceptance with the 
 banished duke's younger brother Frederick, finds 
 himself, to his dismay, called to account for 
 Orlando's disappearance, and threatened with con- 
 fiscation and exile unless he brings him to light, 
 alive or dead, within a twelvemonth. All this, 
 and how Oliver found his way into the forest,
 
 106 Town and Foreft. 
 
 and there wandered about in most wretched guise 
 till almost starved and brought very low in body 
 and mind, Mr. Bolter had not the means of read- 
 ing. He found him coming up to Rosalind and 
 Celia in a forest-glade, and showing them a blood- 
 stained handkerchief, telling them he had been 
 charged to account to them for Orlando's being 
 unable to keep an engagement he had made with 
 them, by a relation of facts. Orlando, he said, 
 was straying along in melancholy thought, when 
 he perceived a wretched, ragged man sleeping 
 under an oak, just on the point of being stung 
 by a large snake that had wound itself round 
 his neck. Just as he thought it was all over 
 with the poor man, the snake suddenly glided 
 away, and Orlando then saw it had been scared 
 by a lioness crouched under the bushes await- 
 ing to spring on the unhappy sleeper when he 
 awoke 
 
 for 'tis 
 
 The royal disposition of that beast 
 
 To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead."
 
 Grey Nuns. 107 
 
 The brave youth therefore approached the sleeper, 
 and found him to be liis elder brother, whom 
 he had no reason to suppose in pursuit of him 
 except to take his life ! "What should he do ? 
 He had nothing to do but to walk away and let 
 things take their course ! Should he ? Could 
 he ? no ! The voice of his brother's blood 
 would cry to him from the ground ! He would 
 sooner die, if need be, for his brother 
 
 " Kindness, nobler ever than revenge, 
 And nature, stronger than his just occasion, 
 Made him give battle to the lioness, 
 Who quickly fell before him; in which hurtling" 
 
 (says Oliver, bursting into tears of penitence and 
 affection) 
 
 " From miserable slumber I awoke." 
 
 Imagine the surprise of Kosalind and Celia, 
 who knew his previous character and conduct, 
 but not his person. " What ! " say they in 
 amaze, "are you his brother? Was it you he 
 rescued ? " He sobs out an affirmative ; and, 
 when a little more composed, tells them that a
 
 io8 Town and Forejl. 
 
 most tender reconciliation then ensued, and that 
 poor Orlando, being sadly torn in the arm by the 
 lioness, was unable to come to them, and sent 
 them his handkerchief as a token that the bearer 
 was a credible witness. 
 
 " Matchless Shakspeare ! " thought Mr. Bolter. 
 " This play is too long for modern taste ; and I 
 have little doubt that if a playwright wanted to 
 reduce it to suitable dimensions, this charming 
 passage would be curtailed, or altogether left out; 
 and yet, to me, it is one of the noblest things in 
 the drama. What a practical sense Shakspeare 
 had of the beauty, the magnanimity, the impera- 
 tive duty, of forgiveness ! He must have had 
 some notable injuries to forgive in his own life ; 
 for this is the writing of a man of experience. A 
 common hand would have made the two brothers 
 draw upon each other in the forest, Oliver die 
 after a few passes, or at any rate limp away with 
 the additional burden of an odiously affable 
 'Thou art forgiven get thee gone for ever;' 
 but Shakspeare could not have slept in his bed if
 
 Grey Nuns. 109 
 
 lie had made things end so ! His spirit of for- 
 giveness so overleaps even its boundaries that it 
 extends to the wicked brother of the duke, and, in 
 spite of the risking the charge of repeating him- 
 self, -which no one could better have known was 
 not good art, he must make even that hateful man 
 in a way to be good and happy, in this world and 
 the next. He represents him coming to the forest 
 with the relentless purpose of hunting down and 
 slaying his brother, when 
 
 ' meeting with an old religious man, 
 
 After some talk with him he was converted 
 Both from his enterprise and from the world, 
 His crown resigning to his banished brother, 
 And all their lands restoring them again, 
 That were with him exiled.' 
 
 "To the mass of playgoers this sudden and 
 real conversion would appear about one of the 
 most improbable things in the whole play, which 
 would just show that they knew nothing at all 
 about it. Shakspeare knew better; and that 
 man has had little experience of himself, and
 
 no Town and Foreft. 
 
 made very superficial observation on the characters 
 and history of others, who does not feel that, in 
 this incident, he suggests nothing that might not 
 naturally have occurred. 
 
 ' Shakspeare, with all thy faults, I love thee still.' "
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 GIPSY TENTS. 
 
 " Underneath the greenwood tree 
 
 Here we dwell right merrily. 
 
 You may see where we have been, 
 
 By the burnt spot on the green, 
 
 By the oak's branch drooping low, 
 
 "Withered in our fagots' glow ; 
 By the grass and hedgerow cropped, 
 
 Where our donkeys have been grazing. 
 By some old torn rag we dropped, 
 
 When our crazy tents were raising. 
 
 You may see where we have been ; 
 
 Where we are, that is not seen ; 
 
 Where we are, it is no place 
 
 For a lazy foot to trace." 
 
 - BOLTER cast the fragment at- the root 
 of a tuft of violets beneath a gnarled oak, 
 and went forward more brisklv. As he looked
 
 U2 Town and Foreft. 
 
 about him, he was reminded of some of the land- 
 scapes he had seen at the Dulwich Gallery : it was, 
 indeed, a scene that Ruysdael or Hobbima would 
 have loved to paint. The sky was dappled with 
 fleecy clouds no bigger than a man's hand ; the 
 bright sunshine brought out each object into clear 
 relief ; the ground was undulating and broken ; a 
 heavily-laden wagon, with a dog tied underneath, 
 was just wending out of sight; a windmill was 
 briskly revolving its sails in the distance ; nearer 
 at hand a couple of men were loading a cart 
 in a gravel-pit; while a little apart from them, 
 and out of sight, a Dutch girl was washing her 
 feet in a pool. Perhaps she caught a glimpse 
 of Mr. Bolter when she arose, for he heard 
 her clear voice borne on the air, crying, "Buy 
 a broom? buy a broom ?" and then she gaily 
 struck up 
 
 " From Deutscbland I come, with my tempting wares 
 laden," 
 
 till the distance between them rendered the far-oS 
 notes inaudible.
 
 Gipfy Tents. 113 
 
 Meanwhile he was directing his course along a 
 narrow track, towards a wreath of thin blue smoke 
 that rose from an umbrageous thicket. A pony 
 and couple of donkeys were cropping the herbage, 
 watched by a lazy-looking boy stretched on the 
 grass, who followed Mr. Bolter with his eye (a& 
 did the pony) without moving his head. Just 
 within the wood Mr. Bolter came on the first tent 
 in the encampment. A bright fire was burning 
 beneath a black caldron, which a woman of about 
 fifty was watching, while a much older woman, of 
 true gipsy countenance, and bent nearly double 
 with age, crouched close to the flames, now and 
 then croaking rather than speaking articulately. 
 A middle-aged man was cutting skewers, atten- 
 tively watched by a little boy. A very beautiful 
 gipsy-woman, of about five-and-twenty, with a 
 yellow handkerchief tied over her glossy raven 
 hair, and a faded red cloak carelessly drawn about 
 her, was nursing an infant. These two were what 
 an artist would have called "the light of the 
 picture/'
 
 H4 Town and For eft. 
 
 Every one of the party saw the intruder as soon 
 as he saw them, and immediately jabbered some- 
 tiling among themselves. (I believe that is the 
 word we polite English apply to a language we 
 don't understand, though it may have been 
 spoken by an intellectual people in the days of 
 Moses and Aaron.) The youngest woman drew 
 her cloak round her, and, approaching Mr. Bolter, 
 asked him, in a fawning way, if he would have 
 his fortune told. 
 
 " dear, no," said he, very composedly, " my 
 
 business is of quite another kind Is 
 
 there any one here of the name of Lovell ? " 
 
 " She don't live here," said the woman ; " she 
 lives in another tent a great way off \" 
 
 " Can you direct me the way ? " 
 
 " I don't know it," replied she doggedly, and 
 reseating herself on the ground. 
 
 ' ' Don't go near her, she 's an old witch," cried 
 the decrepit old woman. " She 's ever so wicked ! 
 And she's dying of a fever, and you'll catch it 
 and die ! "
 
 Gipfy Tents. 115 
 
 " Perhaps I shall cure her instead." 
 
 "What! are you a doctor?" said they all, 
 regarding him with manifest respect. 
 
 " Something like it at any rate a doctor of 
 souls, and in that capacity I might do her some 
 good." 
 
 " What 's that ? " said the middle-aged woman 
 distrustfully ; while the man left off working, and 
 looked at him fixedly. 
 
 "Do you know, my friend, that you have a 
 soul?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Well, then, I hardly know how to begin. 
 That tree grows, and lives, but cannot move. 
 Your pony and donkey can move, but cannot 
 think. You can think you can think what you 
 shall have for dinner, and how soon. You can be 
 happy and sorry, you can be angry and make it 
 up again. And why? Because you have a 
 soul." 
 
 " I see," said the middle-aged woman. 
 
 "Oh, all that's as plain < as this stick," said
 
 1 1 6 Town and Fore/I. 
 
 the man contemptuously, and resuming his 
 work. 
 
 " If you \e come to talk about such moonshine 
 as that," said the woman who was cooking, 
 " you'd better be off, for we want none of 
 it." 
 
 "Did not I tell you I came here not in search 
 of you, but of Lovell ? " 
 
 "I'll tell you what," cried the old beldame, 
 almost inarticulate with vehemence, " if you Ve 
 anything good for her wine, or money, or such- 
 like you J d better give it to us, and not to her, for 
 we 're a deal more in want of it, and a pretty deal 
 better people too ! " 
 
 " no, my friend, I have nothing for her but 
 what is spoken by the tongue." 
 
 "Keep it for her, and welcome, then," 
 said the old woman, Avith a ghastly smile ; " and 
 be off." 
 
 " Keep a civiller tongue, mother," muttered the 
 man. " It does no good." 
 
 " It does good ; for it sends fools packing."
 
 Gipfy Tents. 
 
 Mr. Bolter was going to pass onward, when, 
 changing his mind, he said, "Do you know 
 any one named Pharaoh ? " 
 
 " Why, I 'm Pharaoh's daughter," cried the old 
 woman. 
 
 Mr. Bolter thought her a very miserable- 
 representative of that excellent princess; and 
 concluded it must either be a falsehood on the 
 spur of the moment, or that the tribe must be a 
 much larger one than he had supposed. At any 
 rate, this old woman's advanced age made it 
 impossible she could be the daughter of his 
 Pharaoh. 
 
 " Pharaoh's daughter, and Pharaoh's grand- 
 mother," persisted the old woman. "What do 
 you know of the Pharaohs ? " 
 
 "Well, I think mine cannot anyhow belong 
 to your branch," said Mr. Bolter, "for I don't 
 see the least resemblance between you. The one 
 I mean is a well-grown, handsome young man, 
 extremely civil and obliging." 
 
 " Ah, that must be my grandson, sure enough/'
 
 j 1 8 Town and Fore/I. 
 
 cried the old woman, quite changing her tone. 
 "He's the very cream of my heart the 
 precious, precious jewel ! " And she rocked her- 
 self to and fro, muttering to herself in a kind of 
 ecstasy. 
 
 "Sit down, sir, sit down," said the youngest 
 woman, civilly offering him a block of hewn wood 
 which did very well for a seat. " We are all 
 very good friends with the friends of my brother." 
 Mr. Bolter having accepted her kindness, "Now 
 then," said she, with evident interest, "tell us 
 what you know of him." 
 
 At this moment Pharaoh himself appeared, 
 carrying a bundle of rushes. His appearance was 
 singular; he wore a dirty yellow-brown carter's 
 frock, with great pockets at the sides, and his 
 long jet-black hair hung in heavy waves from 
 under a conical felt hat, such as is worn by 
 Italian brigands. His feet were bare and muddy ; 
 one hand and arm held the rushes; with the 
 other hand he grasped a live snake that writhed 
 and twisted in every direction.
 
 Gripfy Tents. 119 
 
 "Ah, my teacher!" exclaimed he, radiant 
 with gladness; and, unceremoniously disengaging 
 himself of the snake by hitting its head against 
 a stone, he dropped the rushes and hastily ad- 
 vanced with outstretched hand to Mr. Bolter. 
 It was evident to the attentive lookers-on that 
 their good understanding was no fable; and 
 Mr. Bolter rose proportionably in their opinion. 
 
 " So you 've found me out," cried Pharaoh. 
 " How strange, and how good ! I thought, when 
 I did not find you beneath the oak, that I 'd seen 
 the last of you. Had I known this morning 
 that you were here, I wouldn't have wasted my 
 time in catching that nasty snake, that's worth 
 nothing but its fat, nor wading after those rushes, 
 for which I shall only get a penny a dozen from 
 the bird-stuflers. Now, let 's go to it at once 
 will you, sir ? " 
 
 "With all my heart," said Mr. Bolter with 
 alacrity; and pulling a spelling-book from his 
 pocket as he spoke, they withdrew a little from 
 the rest, and sat down on a felled tree, and the
 
 I2O Town and Foreft. 
 
 lesson began. Mr. Bolter found that his pupil 
 had already mastered so many letters by sight, 
 that there was nothing to do but to connect them 
 -by name with the alphabet he had learnt the 
 previous day; and when this was done, he gave 
 'him a short spelling lesson on the first verse in 
 ^Genesis. He told him he thought he would soon 
 make a good scholar. 
 
 "Ah," said Pharaoh mournfully, "not unless 
 you continue to teach me. I shall only lose what 
 I already know." 
 
 " "Well, it will be impossible for me to come to 
 you, but could not you come to me ? " 
 
 " yes, sir ! Where ? " 
 
 " Why, I am going to have a room lent me in 
 Hopkinsville for an evening school and other 
 -purposes ; and if you would come to me there, 
 you might learn along with the rest." 
 
 "Certainly I would, if they would not be 
 ashamed of me ? '' 
 
 " no, my poor fellow, they will have no more 
 reason to be ashamed of you than you of them.
 
 Gipfy Tents. 121 
 
 I do not yet know where the room is to be, nor 
 how soon it will open ; but, as soon as I do, I 
 will let you know that is, if I know where to 
 find you/' 
 
 " You may easily do that of the turnpike-man," 
 said Pharaoh. " I will ask him every day whether 
 any one has inquired for me; and if you will 
 leave the name of the place, and name your hour, 
 I will come. Hark, they are calling us to dinner. 
 Come and have some with us." 
 
 " With all my heart, and afterwards we will 
 walk a little way together." 
 
 The gipsies welcomed him with cordiality. 
 The stew smelt uncommonly like rich hare soup, 
 and was very savoury, though flavoured with 
 herbs that Mr. Bolter thought did not improve 
 it. The woman who cooked it, whom her 
 husband called Zobel, which was probably a 
 corruption of Isobel, ladled a sufficient quantity 
 into an earthen basin for her guest, and then 
 pulled out of her pocket a tablespoon of un- 
 doubted silver, though, from neglect and ill-usage, 
 
 G
 
 122, Town and Forejl. 
 
 it looked no better than lead. It had a very 
 suspicious-looking crest, a good deal more modern 
 than that of the race of Pharaoh was likely to be, 
 if it had one ; but Mr. Bolter remembered the 
 direction to eat such things as were set before 
 him, asking no questions, and scrupled not to do 
 so in the present instance, without troubling him- 
 self with the history either of the spoon or the 
 hare. 
 
 "What have you been about?" said Zobel, 
 curiously, to her son. 
 
 " Learning to read a printed book. See what 
 the gentleman has given me ! " said he, exhibit- 
 ing it. 
 
 " That 's a beautiful book ! " said his mother, 
 admiringly ;-. " you had better let me keep it for 
 you." 
 
 " no ! I shall keep it here," putting it into 
 his bosom. 
 
 " Can you read any of it yet ? " says the father, 
 with some interest. 
 
 " Yes listen." And, tracing each word
 
 GipfyiTents. 123 
 
 earnestly with his finger, he slowly and distinctly 
 
 read, " In the beginning God created the heavens 
 and the earth/' 
 
 "That's wonderful! Will you teach me?" 
 
 said Pharaoh's sister, fixing her large black eyes 
 
 / i 
 
 on Mr. Bolter. 
 
 "If I teach Pharaoh he will be able to teach 
 you all/' said he. 
 
 "Yes, Mariana, that is as much as you can 
 expect of the gentleman," interrupted Pharaoh; 
 - " he has a great many people to attend to besides 
 us, I can tell you." 
 
 " How do you know ? " 
 
 "Because I do." 
 
 "I don't know that I shall care to learn," 
 said Mariam. 
 
 " yes, you will," said Mr. Bolter, " when you 
 find how much there is you would like to know 
 in this book." 
 
 " What is there ? " said she. 
 
 "Look up!" said he, pointing to the sky. 
 " Look at that beautiful blue sky overhead, which
 
 124 Town and Foreft. 
 
 at night is sometimes brilliant with stars, some- 
 times lit up by pale moonlight, and sometimes 
 black with clouds. Then look round on these 
 green trees and that cheerful common. "Who 
 made these things? This little book tells you. 
 'In the beginning God made the heavens and 
 the earth/ And it goes on to tell you how He 
 made them . . . things that we could learn 
 nowhere else, for no men or women were then 
 created to look on and see. It goes on to tell 
 how men and women were created ; and how the 
 woman committed a great sin, and led her husband 
 to sin also, and how, in consequence, people have 
 gone on sinning ever since. It tells you how 
 angry God justly was at their sin; but how, in 
 His mercy, He promised to show them a way by 
 which to escape from its consequences. He 
 said He would send His only Son down from 
 heaven to teach them to be good, and to make 
 peace with Him, and that then He would forgive 
 them, and after they died receive them up into 
 heaven."
 
 Gipfy Tents. 125 
 
 " That was very strange ! " ejaculated the elder 
 
 gipsy- 
 
 " Very strange, but very good/' said Pharaoh. 
 " Is it all true ? " 
 
 " Every word of it." 
 
 " When will His Son come ? " 
 
 " He did come, more than eighteen hundred 
 years ago; but people would no more believe 
 Him than some people will now believe me 
 (not you, I hope) : they felt something in their 
 hearts resisting him all the while He spoke, that 
 made them say within themselves, ' Whatever you 
 may do I won't believe you/ And at last they 
 became so weary of Him, so angry at Him for 
 His very goodness, that they began to take counsel 
 among themselves how they might put Him to 
 death." 
 
 " Did they, though ? " said Pharaoh quickly. 
 
 "Indeed, my friend, they did. They nailed 
 Him to a wooden cross, and let Him hang there 
 for hours, dying by inches. His heavenly 
 Father, to mark His indignation at their wicked-
 
 126 Town and Forejl. 
 
 ness, darkened the sun, made the earth shake, 
 and raised many dead persons from their graves. 
 Afterwards He raised His dear Son from the 
 dead, and took Him up in broad daylight into 
 heaven in the sight of many people, who watched 
 Him out of sight. And there has been His home 
 ever since; yet He is continually among us, 
 watching all we do and say, helping those who 
 are in distress, and providing for all who believe 
 in Him, one way or other ; and all who believe 
 in Him He will save." 
 
 " Ah, He will never save me ! " burst from the 
 lips of the father. " My sins are so many." 
 
 " My friend, He mil ! You have only to ask 
 Him." 
 
 A tear rolled from the man's eye as he said, 
 " Teach me how." 
 
 Mr. Bolter immediately offered a short, heartfelt 
 prayer. Just as he had concluded it the old 
 woman, who had dragged herself along the 
 ground to his feet, suddenly dropped on her 
 knees before him, holding up her shrivelled hands
 
 Gipfy Tents. 127 
 
 clasped as if in prayer, and exclaiming in a 
 cracked, canting voice, "O you blessed son of 
 God! you're the resurrection ! you're the "* 
 
 "Oh, hush, hush!" cried Mr. Bolter, greatly 
 shocked. "You must not use such language to 
 me ; you altogether mistake its meaning." 
 
 She would have persisted, however, had not 
 her son roughly cried, "Give over, mother, you 
 see the gentleman does not like it " while her 
 grandson, going behind her, quietly picked her 
 up and carried her off into the tent, where she 
 lay upon the ground making an unearthly sort 
 of noise, and uttering fearful curses. 
 
 Mr. Bolter now felt that he must bring the 
 interview to a close. After a few more words of 
 exhortation, therefore, which were cordially re- 
 ceived by all, the father voluntarily promising to 
 learn whatever his son should teach him, Mr. 
 Bolter departed, accompanied by Pharaoh, who 
 undertook to guide him to the other gipsies in 
 various parts of the wood. 
 
 * Fact.
 
 Town and For eft. 
 
 There were twelve tents in all. To the family 
 in each tent Mr. Bolter addressed some word in 
 season, which, in a few cases, was encouragingly 
 received; so that the whole afternoon was con- 
 sumed in his labours among them. He made 
 inquiry for the sick woman who had sent to 
 Mrs. Truebury, and found her so grateful for the 
 kind assistance supplied as to be ready to hear 
 a word of exhortation; and, as he found she 
 could read a little, he gave her a small book of 
 Scripture lessons. 
 
 Pharaoh listened attentively to all that was 
 said, and really seemed to drink in every word 
 that fell from Mr. Bolter's lips. As they walked 
 from one spot to another he readily answered 
 any questions that \vere asked him about his 
 mode of life, which seemed, for one of his race, 
 tolerably harmless, though poor and desultory. 
 In the spring he seemed chiefly to live by 
 climbing tall trees for birds' nests, which he sold 
 in the streets according to the number of eggs 
 they contained, at the rate of a halfpenny an egg.
 
 Gipfy Tents. 129 
 
 Sometimes he was lucky enough to secure the 
 long narrow nest of a bottle-tit, containing as 
 many as eighteen eggs. He went out bird-nesting 
 three times a week from May to August; then, 
 from August to Christmas, lie pulled rushes for 
 stuffing a poor and uncertain trade. Then, at 
 Christmas, he got " backing " for winter nosegays, 
 the green yew, fern, and holly for windows and 
 plum puddings, and wild-flower roots to hawk in 
 the streets. 
 
 Pharaoh had so much to say on all this that 
 he kept on walking with Mr. Bolter along the 
 London road till they got quite into the suburbs. 
 Then they took leave, with mutually expressed 
 hopes of soon meeting again. 
 
 "What pursuit is equal, in dignity, importance, 
 and interest, to that of even one perishing soul ? 
 
 G 2
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 DR. GRACE. 
 
 " A sweet attractive kind of grace. 
 
 A full assurance given by looks. 
 Continual comfort in a face, 
 
 The lineaments of Gospel books. 
 I trow that countenance cannot lie 
 Whose thoughts are visible to the eye." 
 
 A BOUT a fortnight after this Mr. Bolter might 
 
 have been seen, looking very tired and 
 
 fagged, walking at dusk along a row of tolerably 
 
 respectable suburban houses, not built with much 
 
 regard to uniformity, some of them being semi-
 
 Dr. Grace. 131 
 
 detached, with strips of garden before them, 
 others being flush with the pavement. 
 
 At the door of one of the former, which had 
 a paved court before it, and seemingly a small 
 burial-ground behind, Mr. Bolter knocked, just 
 as the lamplighter was lighting the street lamps ; 
 and, on the door being opened, he inquired if 
 he could see Dr. Grace. 
 
 "By all means," said some one within a sitting- 
 room on the left, when the maid delivered the 
 message: and Mr. Bolter was ushered into the 
 
 O * 
 
 doctor's study. It was a pleasant transition, on 
 a cold, wet night, to be admitted from the miry 
 streets, with the gas reflected in the puddles, into 
 a warm, well-carpeted room, with walls covered 
 with books, red curtains drawn across the win- 
 dows, and a bright fire in the grate. 
 
 "Good evening, Mr. Bolter," said Dr. Grace, 
 who was writing very fast "I am very glad to 
 see you, my good sir." Then, laying aside his 
 pen for a moment, he shook him cordially by the 
 hand, and* said, "Will you excuse me? I want
 
 132 Town and For eft. 
 
 to send this note by the next post ; and when 
 it is off my mind I shall enter all the more 
 completely into what you have to say." 
 
 "Pray do so, sir," said Mr. Bolter, sitting, 
 down; and Dr. Grace immediately resumed his- 
 pen. The lamp-light fell full on his head, which 
 was finely formed, though rather scant of hair. He. 
 had a pleasant grey eye, frank though somewhat 
 careworn countenance, and was well and compactly 
 formed, apparently working too hard, thinking too 
 much, and living too plainly ever to grow fat. 
 
 Having quickly concluded his note and thrown 
 it on a heap of others, he briskly seated himself 
 by the fire and rang the bell, saying, 
 
 "That affair is over. And, do you know, Mr- 
 Bolter, I think nothing muddles a man's head 
 more than having to write twenty letters on 
 twenty different subjects within considerably less 
 than a reasonable time/' 
 
 Mr. Bolter smiled and said he could readily 
 suppose it, but that he contributed very little 
 himself towards swelling the post-office revenues. 
 
 m
 
 Dr. Grace. 133 
 
 "Your work is of a different kind," said Dr. 
 Grace ; " you look tired enough, too. Hannah/' 
 (to the servant,) "request Miss Lucy to send 
 in tea and toast for two. You may take out all 
 those letters. Lucy," pursued he, as the maid 
 left the room, "has some of the Sunday-school 
 teachers to drink tea with her this evening ; and, 
 knowing me to be busy, promised to send my tea 
 in to me, so you and I will take tea together." 
 
 " I am quite sorry I should have called at so- 
 inconvenient a time," said Mr. Bolter. 
 
 "Not at all," said the doctor; "if you had 
 not come, somebody else would. We shall be 
 sure to hear the knocker presently, and then 
 Hannah will say ' the doctor is engaged/ " 
 
 This was spoken so cheerfully that Mr. Bolter 
 instantly felt at ease; and Hannah at the same 
 time entered with two large breakfast-cups of hot 
 and strong tea, and a bountiful allowance of 
 buttered toast and plum cake, none of which 
 restoratives were thrown away on these tired 
 men.
 
 134 Town and Forejl. 
 
 " Well," said Dr. Grace, " and how have you 
 been getting on ? " 
 
 " Like some one not quite so strong as Hercules, 
 setting to work in the Augean stable," said Mr. 
 Bolter. "There is so much to be done that I 
 feel discouraged. However, I have made a be- 
 ginning." 
 
 " What did you do at Barking fair ? " 
 
 " Sir, you kindly gave rne tvro thousand tracts 
 to distribute. I took a friend with me; and 
 had you given me double the number we could 
 have distributed them all." 
 
 " Come, that is famous ! May the great Hus- 
 bandman bless some, at least, of the good seed 
 His servants thus have scattered ! " 
 
 " He has blessed some of it already." 
 
 "Nay! So soon?" 
 
 "I will enter into it a little. "We began by 
 visiting the courts and by-streets immediately 
 about the fair-ground, leaving a tract at each 
 house, and endeavouring to get a few words with 
 the inhabitants, hoping by this means to prevent
 
 Dr. Grace. 135 
 
 some, at least, from attending the fair. Several 
 interesting incidents occurred. At one house a 
 sailor came to the door. He told me he had been 
 kept to the house by a paralytic affection for some 
 years, but now earned a poor living by making 
 fishing-nets. Though nominally a Roman Catholic, 
 I was much surprised at the knowledge he showed 
 of his own heart, and the way in which he spoke 
 of Jesus Christ as the only way of acceptance." 
 
 "Excellent." 
 
 "After going the round of these courts and 
 alleys, we proceeded into the fair, which was held 
 in the public street. The shows were of a very 
 low description, with the usual accompaniments 
 of swings, toy and cake stalls, gambling and 
 drinking booths. Immediately on entering the 
 fair I saw two men fighting. One of them espied 
 me, and immediately desisted, and came up to me 
 for a tract. I said, 'Kemember, the eyes of the 
 Lord are in every place, beholding the evil and 
 the good.' He burst into tears, and replied, 'I 
 know it ; my father was a good man, and taught
 
 136 Town and For eft. 
 
 me better. I know I was doing wrong. This 
 man stuck to me all the rest of the day, and 
 we had much interesting conversation together."* 
 
 " Dear me !" cried Dr. Grace, hastily drawing his 
 hand across his eyes. " Why, that one case would 
 have been sufficient reward for your day's work !" 
 
 " Over and over again. A great many other 
 incidents, sir, you will find in my report, which 
 I wish was more spiritedly written." 
 
 " You talk with sufficient spirit, at any rate. 
 Do go on : I delight to hear you." 
 
 "At night, sir, my friend John and I found 
 we had distributed half your tracts. On the 
 second day of the fair John could not be spared 
 by his employer; but I returned to the charge. 
 I began with a few houses we had overlooked. 
 At the first of these the door was opened by a 
 neat-looking poor woman, who, on my saying, 
 'Will you accept this tract?' immediately re- 
 plied, '0 yes, with gladness! Yesterday after- 
 noon my husband came in and asked me for 
 * All these details are authentic.
 
 Dr. Grace. 137- 
 
 twopence, saying that he was going to take just 
 a walk round the fair. My heart misgave me- 
 that he would not come back so soon as he wished 
 me to think. However, I did him wrong, for he 
 soon returned, sat down, and asked me for his 
 pipe. He then took a tract out of his pocket,, 
 and began to read it, saying a person had given 
 it him in the fair. Presently he burst out laugh- 
 ing, and said, 'Sally, this is too good to keep 
 to one's self. It is called The Fool's Pence do 
 listen to it V So I sat down by him, only too- 
 thankful that anything should keep him from the 
 public-house; and he read it aloud, quite with, 
 glee, and a great deal of fun there was in it, and 
 yet a great deal of good in it too. We laughed,, 
 and then had a long talk over a comfortable dish 
 of tea; but before we had that he said, 'They 
 shan't have the fool's twopence at the beer-house 
 to-night, so there it is back for you.' ' Oh, very 
 well/ said I, and, slipping out to the baker's, I 
 laid it out in a sally lunn, and toasted it for our 
 tea.'' Ah/ said I, '/gave him The Fool's Pence."*
 
 138 Town and Fore/I. 
 
 "Capital!" cried Dr. Grace. "Come, Mr. 
 Bolter, let you and me have another cup of tea. 
 / will if you will, and glad of the excuse, for 
 I was called away from my dinner." 
 
 " And I had no dinner at all," said Mr. Bolter, 
 laughing. 
 
 " Do have a slice of cold beef now ! You 
 won't ? Hannah, beg Miss Lucy to let us have 
 some more tea and toast." 
 
 " Miss Lucy will think I am a very voracious 
 guest, sir !" 
 
 "0 no, she'll only think I'm making you 
 a blind. She pretends sometimes that so much 
 tea is bad for my nerves; but I know the dif- 
 ference. It cheers but not inebriates us busy 
 men, who seldom take a glass of wine. Well, but 
 now about my poor, miserable Hopkinsville." 
 
 " One word more first. I told you of Pharaoh 
 the gipsy. On going round the fair, there was 
 he, with a lot of sticks and cocoa-nuts for people 
 to throw at. I knew very well the people who 
 got the cocoa-nuts often went off with the owner
 
 Dr. Grace. 139 
 
 to the drinking booths. I just went up to him 
 from behind, laid my hand on his shoulder, and 
 said, ' Hallo ! ' Looking round in surprise, he no 
 sooner saw who I was than he turned as red as 
 scarlet. Sir, that man literally ' arose, left all, and 
 folloived me ! ' He kept with me all the rest of 
 the day." 
 
 "Beautiful! beautiful !" ejaculated Dr. Grace. 
 
 Mr. Bolter's features worked, and suddenly 
 he burst into tears. 
 
 " I feel these things too much/' said he. 
 
 " My dear friend," said his kind superintendent, 
 rising and grasping his hand warmly in both his 
 own, and pressing it for several seconds, "it is 
 precisely because you do feel them so keenly that 
 you are the very man for the work. In a highly 
 rarefied atmosphere, the faintest vibration is 
 heard ! * It is because you are of so impulsive 
 and sensitive a nature that every word you speak 
 thrills the heart. Was it not so with David, 
 with Jeremiah, with St. Paul? Nay, with our 
 * Griffith.
 
 140 Town and For eft. 
 
 blessed Saviour himself? When did Solomon 
 ever draw a tear from human eye ? His profound 
 wisdom enabled him, as with a microscope, to 
 detect the tendency of the minutest word, look, 
 or temper, and hold it up to the. light, showing 
 that in the most inconsiderable thing we either 
 adorn or deface our Lord's image; but it is 
 David, by whom God's own spirit spake, who 
 touches and melts our hearts ; it is Jeremiah who 
 says, ' that mine eyes were rivers of water ! ' 
 It is God Himself, speaking through Isaiah, who 
 says, ' In a little wrath I hid my face from thee 
 for a moment, but with everlasting kindness will 
 I have mercy on thee/ It is God's own Son 
 who says (impulsively, as it were), f l tell you, 
 if these should hold their peace, the very stones 
 should cry out!' 
 
 "Or, take that the other way, Mr. Bolter. 
 Suppose He was riot then, under the impulse of 
 strong feeling, using a powerful hyperbole sup- 
 pose the plain fact to have been that, ages before 
 Christ's advent, when the wonderful scheme of
 
 Dr. Grace. 141 
 
 redemption was first laid down, our Almighty 
 Father had made this the alternative that, sup- 
 posing, when His dearly beloved Son entered 
 Jerusalem as its King, and the insensibility and 
 hardness of His subjects should be such as that 
 not a single voice should cry, 'Hosanna' the 
 very stones, to mark His divine indignation at 
 their contempt for His Son, should literally cry 
 out, our Saviour only then told His hearers the 
 plain matter of fact ; and yet, what an astounding 
 fact that was ! So startling, so enormous a miracle 
 as the very stones beneath their feet being made 
 voluble with hosannas, was forborne, through the 
 homage of a few artless, affectionate little children ! 
 See how easily our powerful God is appeased ! " 
 
 " Sir, that is very extraordinary ." And Mr. 
 Bolter, who was so much more used to pouring 
 out than pouring in, and felt the good doctor's 
 words descending on his weary soul like dew upon 
 parched ground, sat lost in thought for a few 
 minutes. Meanwhile the fresh supply of tea was 
 brought in, and Dr. Grace, sedately stirring the
 
 142 Town and Fore/I. 
 
 contents of his cup, went on talking, to the no 
 small refreshment and enjoyment of Mr. Bolter. 
 He was one of the most delightful talkers in the 
 world; a man of logical accuracy, with a highly 
 poetical taste, practical knowledge of the world, 
 keen sense of humour, and profound spirituality. 
 He had taken high honours at Cambridge; and 
 it is an immense .advantage to city missionaries, 
 who seldom have had the opportunity of acquiring 
 much secular learning, when they are thrown into 
 connection with a gifted and scholar-like super- 
 intendent, who possesses the very attainments they 
 have not, and, by his genial and cultivated con- 
 versation, raises them up towards the platform 
 from which he himself looks around on the world 
 of experience and thought. 
 
 After talking for full half an hour, Dr. Grace 
 paused, and then said, "Well, and how about 
 Hopkiusville ? " 
 
 " The evening school answers admirably. 
 Pharaoh comes to it every time, and once or 
 twice has been my only scholar, which I have
 
 Dr. Grace. ' 143 
 
 not regretted, because we have made so much 
 progress. I have rewarded him with an old shirt 
 and pair of stockings you never saw a fellow 
 so delighted in your life ! By and by, perhaps, 
 I may be able to spare him an old suit of . clothes. 
 The attendance of the scholars is increasing. 
 They are squalid, dull, and ignorant almost be- 
 yond belief, and at first were riotous, but I am 
 now getting them into order. Mrs. Truebury has 
 kindly supplied us with everything we want, and 
 her aunt has undertaken to pay a female teacher 
 for superintending the girls' day-school. With 
 regard to our school-room services on Sunday 
 evening, your own curate, sir, has doubtless told 
 you that they are crowded. I hope we shall get 
 you there some evening. It is, you know, the 
 only place of worship in Hopkinsville for three 
 thousand souls." 
 
 " Sad ! sad ! We must get it licensed, and a 
 clergyman appointed to the district." 
 
 "The Baptists and Independents will get the 
 start of you unless you make haste. I must say
 
 144 Town and For eft. 
 
 I am glad to see their red-brick walls rising so 
 fast. There is room for all. It is very handsome 
 of the Society of Friends to co-operate with us in 
 the way they are doing, because, as you know, 
 jt involves the support of what they call ' a paid 
 ministry/ This scruple, however, does not extend 
 to schoolmasters, though it does to missionaries. 
 It is delightful to pull all together, as we are 
 doing now, without distinctions of parties. I 
 only hope it may last. As John Foster said, 
 when the springtide of universal love shall rise 
 sufficiently high, it will merge all rocks of offence 
 and minor lines of separation. I have great hope 
 the reading-room will answer a few poor squalid 
 fellows, hollow-eyed and with sunken cheeks, are 
 beginning to creep into it ; but as they can hardly 
 read a common sentence without stumbling, I 
 have begun by reading aloud and telling them 
 amusing stories, which, I find, answers very well. 
 The first time a man looked wistfully in, and 
 seeing only me turning over the leaves of a book, 
 was going to steal away, when I looked up and
 
 Dr. Grace. 145 
 
 said cheerfully, 'Here seems to be something 
 amusing sit down, and I '11 read it to you if you 
 like, while we have this nice quiet room all to 
 ourselves/ He immediately drew near, and I 
 read him All Baba and the Forty Thieves. Two 
 or three others dropped in ; and, before the end, 
 I think we mustered half-a-dozen. They liked 
 it extremely. The Illustrated News and Pic- 
 torial Times lay on the table, and they looked 
 at the pictures, and I talked to them on the 
 different subjects they suggested. Next time we 
 had Sinbad the Sailor. I always omit whatever 
 they cannot understand or will do them more 
 harm than good. Then we got on to Eobinson 
 Crusoe: we are at it still it will last us half 
 the winter. I mean to follow it with the Pilgrim's 
 Progress. I think, sir, Mr. Truebury will aid me 
 in opening a penny bank at the conclusion of 
 these meetings. He is ready to allow the sub- 
 scribers ten per cent/' 
 
 " That ought to answer/' 
 
 " But ah ! they are so poor ! And the popula- 
 
 a
 
 146 Town and Foreft. 
 
 tion is so fluctuating! One can hardly wish it 
 otherwise, for the regular occupants of these 
 wretched houses (the best of which only let for 
 four and sixpence a week) are those on whom the 
 malign influences of impure air and water tell so 
 severely that their physical strength is permanently 
 lowered by it. These people are not actively 
 wicked, they are not strong enough ! they creep 
 about, get through half a day's poor work, en- 
 during gnawing hunger and pinching cold, and 
 the first attack of illness carries them off. On 
 the other hand, the navvies, &c., who are here 
 to-day and gone to-morrow, are tremendous wife- 
 beaters, and spend the greater part of their wages 
 at the public-house. These are men of great 
 physical force, and wide-awake to what you say 
 to them if it be sufficiently entertaining ; but you 
 have no sooner begun to hope you have made 
 some impression on them than they are removed 
 farther down the line." 
 
 A loud ring at the house-bell, followed by a 
 summons into the hall, here called Dr. Grace from
 
 Dr. Grace. 147 
 
 listening to Mr. Bolter's communications. After a 
 few minutes he returned, saying, " I am summoned 
 to administer the Lord's supper to a dying person 
 and baptize a new-born child. We can walk a little 
 way together, but first let us unite in prayer/' 
 
 Dr. Grace was very gifted in extempore prayer 
 and preaching, an inestimable power in those 
 who possess it. Mr. Bolter followed him in every 
 word. Then the doctor concluded with the 
 Lord's prayer, and a fervent, subdued benedic- 
 tion; and they arose and went forth into the 
 night. The church clocks were striking nine- 
 old women under umbrellas were still crouched 
 at the edge of the pavement, selling oysters, 
 herrings, and greens to those who would have 
 them; and groups of little children, who ought 
 to have been in bed, were amusing themselves 
 as children often do, who in imagination 
 
 " Turn little dry, unhealthy courts 
 To hamlets fit for noonday sports ; 
 And in the long wet streets behold 
 Grand avenues and pleasant streams unfold."* 
 
 * J. Stebbing.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 TRANQUIL VALE. 
 
 " Far in the windings of a vale, 
 Fast by a sheltering wood, 
 The safe retreat of health and peace," 
 A rural mansion stood. 
 
 TT^LLEN, meanwhile, was viewing with delight 
 the gay tokens of advancing autumn in 
 Kent, where the trees, though shedding stray 
 leaves, were yet well clothed, and the weather 
 was delightful. She and the children took so 
 much exercise, morning and afternoon, that they 
 returned in a glow, and did not dream of being 
 cold. Late in the evening, however, when the
 
 Tranquil Vale. 149 
 
 glow had passed off, and the house was shut up, 
 Ellen was not sorry to have a bright little wood 
 fire. 
 
 Sometimes in her walks, while the young ones 
 were busy gathering nuts and blackberries, she 
 strayed slowly along, thinking of the picturesque 
 lives of the three men in Epping Forest; or of 
 charming Guli Springett and Thomas Ellwood, 
 who might never, she suspected, have joined the 
 Quakers but for her fascination. Then she 
 thought, supposing the cause to be a righteous 
 one, how far may a woman's influence be in- 
 nocently exerted ? and again, how was Ellwood's 
 disrespectful conduct to his father to be regarded ? 
 Was it resolution, or was it obstinacy? Eeso- 
 lution in a good cause is obstinacy in a bad one. 
 
 She was now deep in the earlier part of 
 Southey's Life of John Wesley ; and was reading, 
 with profound interest, the account of that comical 
 ghost called by them Geoffrey, who disturbed the 
 Wesley family so much by his unaccountable 
 noises. Unaccounted for rather than unaccount-
 
 150 Town and For eft. 
 
 able. She believed the whole affair to have been 
 got up by some mischievous person or persons, 
 probably in league with one of the servants, who 
 played upon the credulity of the simple-hearted 
 family. She closed the book and went to bed. 
 It had kept her up rather later than usual; and 
 Mrs. Quain and Kitty were not sorry to hear her 
 go upstairs. She went to bed and to sleep, with- 
 out dreaming of ghosts; and, after some hours, 
 apparently of rest, was awoke by what seemed the 
 low grumble of voices in the next room. She 
 listened, aud then heard something dragged 
 heavily along the floor. . 
 
 Now, the next room was Mr. Meeke's; and 
 under Mr. Meeke's bed was his plate-chest, which, 
 it would seem, was being slowly dragged out. 
 Ellen hastily arose, slipped on her dress, seized 
 an umbrella, and cautiously opened the door 
 between the two rooms. 
 
 She had covered her night-light, so that she 
 stood unnoticed in the dark. On a table near 
 Mr. Meeke's bedroom window, which was wide
 
 Tranquil Vale. 151 
 
 open, stood a dark lantern ; by the rays of which 
 a man inside the window was raising the plate- 
 chest to the window-ledge, where another man, 
 standing outside on a ladder, was waiting to re- 
 ceive it. The lantern-light fell full on the man 
 outside, so that Ellen, looking fixedly at him, was 
 certain she should know him anywhere again. 
 The other had his back to her, and his face was 
 in shade. 
 
 " Now then, Pharaoh, king of Egypt," muttered 
 he, " heave it up, and be off, and I '11 step back 
 for the lantern." 
 
 " Hold hard I haven't got it," said the other, 
 and, at the same instant, his eye fell on Ellen. 
 She instantly saw she was discovered, and, with- 
 out giving him time to profit by it, she darted 
 forward, and gave the man who was just preparing 
 to pass his leg over the window-sill such a well- 
 directed poke in the back with her umbrella that 
 he instantly pitched out head over heels, giving 
 her a frightful look of rage and terror, which she 
 thought would stick by her for life. An awful
 
 1 5 a Town and For eft. 
 
 crash on the gravel beneath was next heard, and, 
 terrified as she was at the results of her own 
 work, she thought there was no use in doing 
 things by halves, and therefore, taking hold of 
 the ladder, sent it after them. Then she looked 
 out, and dimly made out a dark mass below ; but 
 a stone flung at her by a vengeful hand so nearly 
 hit her in the eye that she hastily retreated, and, 
 running out to the landing-place, seized the strong 
 crimson cord of the dinner-bell, and began ring- 
 ing a continuous peal. This bell, which swung 
 beneath a little pent-house on the roof, was ex- 
 cellent for alarming a neighbourhood at midnight, 
 though hitherto best known by the somewhat 
 contemptuous title of the " Squire's mutton-chop 
 bell/' However, it was clear that the squire 
 could not be ringing for mutton chops at that 
 time of night, even had he been at home ; there- 
 fore many a clownish head was unwillingly raised 
 from its pillow to consider what that there bell 
 might mean; and a few clownish bodies pro- 
 ceeded furthermore to dress and turn out into
 
 Tranquil Vale. 153 
 
 the darkness to ascertain the nature of the 
 alarm. 
 
 Meanwhile, the children had sprung in terror 
 from their beds, and were clustering round Ellen, 
 crying and sobbing, while Mrs. Quain and Kitty, 
 one as white as ashes, the other as red as a peony, 
 were flying to the rescue. 
 
 Mrs. Quain, on learning the nature of the 
 alarm, cried, "O the wretches \" and flew to 
 the open window. Down below lay the ladder 
 and the chest ; but the rogues were off. Scared, 
 no doubt, by the bell, they had limped away 
 together. 
 
 A great confusion of tongues ensued: Ellen 
 was excited, the children were excited, Mrs. Quain 
 and Kitty were excited. Ellen rapidly told her 
 story, and then went on ringing, while Mrs. 
 Quain and Kitty peered into one room after 
 another, declaring they were afraid to go down- 
 stairs. All this while, it should be mentioned, 
 Neptune was barking tremendously, and had done 
 so all along; but he so continually barked at a
 
 154 Town and For eft. 
 
 rat, or what people called a rat because they did 
 not know what else he could be barking at, that, 
 like Cassandra, his warnings were in vain. All 
 at once a great knocking was heard at the front 
 door. Mrs. Quain immediately began to tremble 
 like a leaf; Kitty flew at the bell, and was going 
 to ring it frantically, when Ellen stopped her and 
 said, "It may be somebody come to help us 
 we must hear what they have to say/' 
 
 To the window proceeded the whole posse 
 comitatis ; and Ellen boldly cried out 
 
 "Who's there ?" 
 
 "Who's there? Why, farmer Brett and his 
 son Dick/' cried a rough voice. " We wants to 
 know what in the world you mean by ringing us 
 up out of our warm beds. Why, I should think 
 they must ha' heard ye at Tunbridge Wells." 
 
 " The house has been broken into," responded 
 Ellen; "and Mr. Meeke's plate-chest has been 
 carried off by the robbers." 
 
 " Oh, that 's a different thing," said the farmer, 
 very seriously. " Hallo ! I 've a' near broke my
 
 Tranquil Vale. 155 
 
 shins over a big box down here under the 
 window." 
 
 " Yes, that 's it I frightened them away before 
 they could carry it off. Please bring it in : we "11 
 come down and open the door." 
 
 "Hum! you're a girl with your wits about 
 you," muttered the farmer. "Give us a. hand, 
 Dick." 
 
 " Here 's a ladder, father," says Dick, tripping 
 over it, and taking a flying leap to escape falling. 
 
 As soon as Mrs. Quain, closely followed by all 
 the others, had opened the house door, the two 
 men brought in the heavy chest, and set it down 
 with no small triumph. Next they brought in 
 the ladder, which they examined curiously, think- 
 ing it might be a clue to the thieves. 
 
 " Hey, why it 's ouru ! " exclaimed Dick, with 
 surprise and disgust. " Here 's the third rung 
 I broke yesterday and spliced with a piece of 
 cord. You mind it, father ? " 
 
 " Sure^," replied farmer Brett. " Well, to be 
 sure, one does come from home to learn news!
 
 156 Town and For eft. 
 
 We shall carry back more than we brought out. 
 I should like to give the lad as meddled with 
 this a good leathering. I suppose, miss, you 
 didn't see enough of either of 'em to know 'em 
 again?" 
 
 "0 yes, I did/' said Ellen quickly. "The 
 man that. fell out of the window had great, glaring 
 eyes, and had lost a front tooth the other, who 
 was standing on the ladder, had a long, narrow, 
 yellow, gipsy-looking face; very bright, black 
 eyes, and coal-black hair. The other called him 
 King Pharaoh." 
 
 "Well, it seems to me a detective may spell 
 something out of that," said farmer Brett. 
 "Here come some more to see what the noise 
 was about." 
 
 Half-a-dozen labouring men came up to the 
 house, and having been told what had happened, 
 undertook to look the ground about the house 
 well over in search of the thieves. Farmer Brett 
 shook his head when they were gone, and said the 
 men had had plenty of time to clear off, unless.
 
 Tranquil Vale. 
 
 indeed, they should be too much hurt. Ellen had 
 a queer feeling now and then, when she thought 
 she might have disabled a couple of strong men : 
 however, it was in self-defence and defence of the 
 property ; they were committing a grievous crime, 
 and must abide by the consequences ; she had not 
 cooled upon it yet. Farmer Brett consented that 
 Dick should sit up in the kitchen to guard the 
 house ; and the children and servants, being some- 
 what reassured by this arrangement, returned to 
 bed and were soon asleep. Ellen lay down, but 
 could not sleep. As soon as it was light, she rose 
 and dressed, and wrote a telegraphic message to 
 Mr. Meeke at his counting-house, which she gave 
 Dick to take to the railway station. It ran thus : 
 "House attacked nothing lost all well/' As 
 she expected, this brought down Mr. Meeke by 
 the next train. He had not forwarded the 
 unpleasant news to his wife, who could not leave 
 the invalid children, but brought down a detective 
 officer instead, who went over the ground, traced 
 footsteps to a certain distance, heard Ellen's
 
 158 Town and Fore/I. 
 
 statement, and seemed to think it a very 
 promising case. They all three proceeded to 
 Mr. Curlew, the nearest magistrate, who heard 
 the matter attentively, and desired the officer to 
 take what steps he thought expedient, and report 
 progress to him the next day at the town-hall. 
 Mr. Meeke, being a busy man, then returned to 
 town, leaving Ellen to walk home by herself. 
 She felt it a very uncomfortable business, and 
 heartily wished they were ah 1 safe home again. 
 The pleasure of country life was gone. 
 
 The children, too, were unsettled ; and though 
 their father had allayed their fears for the time, 
 yet, when darkness and bedtime returned, so did 
 their alarms, which Ellen could only quiet by 
 promising to sit upstairs. As the evening was 
 chilly, she let Mrs. Quain light a fire in her 
 bedroom ; and she sat beside it and wrote a long 
 account of what had happened to John. 
 
 The next morning, just as she was preparing to 
 take the children a walk, a man came to summon 
 her to the town-hall, saying a prisoner had been
 
 Tranquil Vale. 
 
 taken, and they wanted her to identify him. So 
 she was obliged to leave her charges to the care of 
 Mrs. Quain, and repair to the town-hall un- 
 willingly enough. 
 
 On the previous evening, in a large unfinished 
 room, in Hopkiiisville, Mr. Bolter might have been 
 seen, amid bare walls, boarded floor, and raftered 
 ceiling, surrounded by a very ragged regiment of 
 scholars, who seemed to make up in earnestness 
 for deficiencies in cleanliness and politeness. A 
 couple of tallow candles, in tin sconces fixed to 
 the wall, afforded them all the light they had; 
 but, though their aids to the pursuit of knowledge 
 were of the humblest and scantiest description, 
 they seemed quite to satisfy the requirements of 
 the learners. 
 
 Suddenly Mr. Bolter observed a person quietly 
 enter the room and approach the class, himself 
 unseen by any of those who formed it. There 
 was something professional in his air which made 
 Mr. Bolter at once detect him for what he was ; 
 but, as his object seemed simply to observe what
 
 160 Town and Fore/I. 
 
 was going forward, and see that all was right, he 
 did not think it necessary to interrupt his pro- 
 ceedings. 
 
 " Now, then, Pharaoh," said he. 
 
 " Ay, just so ; Pharaoh 's the very man I want/' 
 said the stranger in a quiet voice, which, however, 
 made everybody start ; Pharaoh, perhaps, the 
 least of any, though his face expressed simple 
 surprise. 
 
 "What do you want of me ?" said he calmly. 
 " You 're a police." 
 
 " That 's just it," said the man. " Come out of 
 this, will you? You and I must take a little 
 walk together." 
 
 "What for ?" cried Mr. Bolter. 
 
 "Because this young gentleman, sir, broke 
 into a house last night, and carried off the plate- 
 box." 
 
 "I didn't I" exclaimed Pharaoh, kindling like a 
 coal. 
 
 "How could he?" cried Mr. Bolter. "He 
 was here, taking a reading lesson of me."
 
 Tranquil Vale. 161 
 
 "Not at two o'clock in the morning, sir, I 
 suppose." 
 
 "No, certainly; but yet I feel confident 
 there 's some mistake." 
 
 " O no, sir, none at all. The young lady had a 
 full view of him, and described him exactly, and 
 she heard his companion call him Pharaoh." 
 
 "Why, there are dozens of Pharaohs!" ex- 
 claimed the gipsy indignantly. "My grand- 
 mother has a hundred grandchildren !" 
 
 " Ay, just so, or a hundred and twenty, I think 
 she said," answered the policeman composedly. 
 "She told me all about it just now in Epping 
 Porest, and told me you were here : else how 
 should I have found you ? " 
 
 Pharaoh and Mr. Bolter looked equally at their 
 wits' end. 
 
 "Where did the robbery take place?" said 
 Mr. Bolter. 
 
 " Down at Panghurst, in Kent." 
 
 "Why, he never could have got there after 
 being with me till ten o'clock !"
 
 1 62 Town and Fore/I. 
 
 "What ! not by a third class ? Oh, oh \" 
 
 "Boys! do you believe I did it?" suddenly 
 cried Pharaoh to the rest. 
 
 " Not you ! No, no ! Come, let 's have a shy 
 at the policeman ! " A proposal which would 
 certainly have been seconded, but for a diversion 
 occasioned by a great wailing and clamouring at 
 the door. The next instant it admitted Pharaoh's 
 father, mother, sister, sister's husband, and 
 younger brother, all in a high state of excite- 
 ment. 
 
 "Ay, here's the whole tribe of 'em," said the 
 policeman coolly; "they have not been long in 
 following me up. It don't signify, sir. This 
 young man must go : I am authorised to take him 
 in charge." 
 
 "Where shall you take him?" said Mr. Bolter. 
 
 "To the lock-up house to-night, and down to 
 Kent by an early train to-morrow." 
 
 Hereupon ensued a volley of execrations, vitu- 
 perations, yells, screeches, and other objurgatory 
 attacks, that nothing but the immovable com-
 
 Tranquil F~ale. 163 
 
 posure of an English policeman would have faced. 
 He, unsupported and alone, found himself quite 
 equal to the occasion ; and the women, snatching 
 at the chance of assistance from another quarter, 
 then beset Mr. Bolter, asking him, really in 
 pathetic terms, was he going to let that precious 
 boy, that good, simple, trusty fellow, that would 
 not hurt a fly, that loved the very dust beneath 
 his feet, and minded him just as much behind his 
 back as before his face, was he going to give 
 up this poor young fellow to that limb of the 
 law ? Then Pharaoh burst forth, " O my teacher ! 
 my teacher ! Don't believe anything agin me ! 
 I never done wrong ! You knows what I mean 
 I never done anything in this line all my bora 
 days, and mother knows it ! Don't give me up ! 
 Don't lose sight of me !" 
 
 They hung about him, and clung to his knees. 
 
 " Rely on it, I will not, my poor fellow," said 
 Mr. Bolter. "I won't give you up, nor lose 
 sight of you." 
 
 "0 you blessed, blessed man! the dear
 
 164 Town and Fore/I. 
 
 angel of a gentleman ! I knowed it was in him ! " 
 &c. &c. &c., with looks that might have pierced 
 the imperturbable policeman to the back-bone. 
 
 "Yes, my friends, I promise you I will look 
 after this case. Be content, therefore, with my 
 engaging to do the best I can for you. Go 
 quietly to your home; and you, Pharaoh, go 
 quietly along with the policeman." 
 
 " I will, sir," with a deep sigh. 
 
 " And I will go down with you to-morrow in 
 the very same train." 
 
 Zobel burst into tears. " Oh, bless you, bless 
 you!" cried the others. Pharaoh's heart was 
 full, he could not speak. 
 
 " Now, then," said the policeman quietly. 
 
 "Yes, now then," said Mr. Bolter, taking up 
 his hat, and extinguishing the candles. " We' 11 
 all go with you to the station. Come, friends; 
 come, boys. We will go along quite quietly."
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE TOWN-HALL. 
 
 MAGISTRATE. Fond -wretch ! and what canst thou relate 
 
 But deeds of sorrow, shame, and sin ? 
 Thy crime is proved, thou know'st thy fate ; 
 But come, thy tale ! begin begin ! " 
 
 CF.ABUE : The Justice Hall. 
 
 rr\ HOUGH Mr. Bolter, the policeman, and the 
 prisoner went down by the first train, the 
 gipsies were there before them, hanging about the 
 door of the town-hall. Mr. Bolter stopped for a 
 moment, and in a low voice advised them, what- 
 ever might happen, to behave quite quietly, and 
 on no account to disturb the proceedings. " You
 
 1 66 1'own and Fore/I. 
 
 know/' said he, "that I am speaking as his 
 friend." 
 
 " Yes, yes, you are his friend a blessed friend 
 we will do as you say/' said they. And they 
 did. 
 
 The magistrate, Mr. Curlew, was already talking 
 over the affair with Mr. Meeke, who had come to 
 represent his brother. On seeing A 1 enter with 
 a prisoner, " Come, this looks like progress/' said 
 he in a low voice, and taking the chair. " Gipsy 
 written in the fellow's face. Is the young lady 
 here to identify him ? She must be sent for 
 immediately." 
 
 A messenger was dispatched. 
 
 "Who are you, sir?" inquired Mr, Curlew, 
 looking towards Mr. Bolter. 
 
 "A city missionary, sir; my name is "William 
 Bolter" (and he presented his card). "The 
 prisoner is one of a reading class I was engaged in 
 teaching yesterday evening when the policeman 
 came to apprehend him." 
 
 "Hem, I cannot compliment you much, Mr.
 
 The Toivn-halL 167 
 
 Bolter, on the respectability of your reading class, 
 if this is an average specimen." 
 
 " He is not an average specimen, sir ; I heartily 
 wish he were ! for he is intelligent, docile, and, as 
 far as I have had the power of testing him, truth- 
 ful and reliable. It was this which made me take 
 so strong an interest in the case that I came down 
 here with him, of my own accord, to offer my 
 testimony." 
 
 "Williams, are you talcing down what Mr. 
 Bolter says?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "I was giving the prisoner a lesson the pre- 
 vious night, sir, so late, that I am persuaded 
 he was not at the robbery." 
 
 " Indeed ! Mr. Bolter, your testimony begins 
 to be important. You had better take the oath 
 before proceeding any further." 
 
 "With all my heart, sir." 
 
 "When did you become acquainted with this 
 man?" 
 
 " One Sunday morning, not long ago, as I was
 
 1 68 Town and Fore/I. 
 
 on my way to a field-meeting in Epping Forest, he 
 accosted me and asked me to read him a few 
 words on a scrap of printed paper. I did so, 
 and then asked him his object in making the 
 request. I found he was very anxious to teach 
 himself to read, in order that he might read one 
 particular book. That book, though he could not 
 remember the name of it, I made out to be the 
 Bible. Interested in his purpose, I promised to 
 teach him, but not then : I appointed to meet him 
 at a certain place in the evening. Meanwhile we 
 walked along together, and had a good deal of 
 talk. I found that, though ignorant, he was 
 a simple, well-meaning lad. I was prevented 
 from keeping my evening appointment, which 
 disappointed me, as I was sure it would disappoint 
 him. The next day a lady, belonging to the 
 Society of Eriends, sent me into the forest to 
 see a gipsy woman who was ill of a fever. In 
 seeking for her, I stumbled on another encamp- 
 ment of gipsies. While I was talking to them, 
 this young man unexpectedly came up, and I can
 
 The Town-hall. 169 
 
 never forget the expression of joy which lighted 
 up his face on seeing me. He instantly claimed 
 the reading-lesson, which I gave. Some of the 
 others then wanted to learn too, but I told them 
 that I could not spare time. If Pharaoh (this 
 young man) would come to my reading class in 
 Hopkinsville, I would teach him, and then he 
 could teach his own family. They agreed that 
 this would be a good plan, and promised to learn 
 of him." 
 
 "This is a curious story of yours, Mr. Bolter. 
 Did the lad come ? " 
 
 "Sir, he has never failed; and his progress 
 has been remarkable. He has been an example 
 to the whole class. The night before last, I dis- 
 missed my scholars, as usual, at nine o'clock; 
 but something had occurred which I was desirous 
 of explaining more fully to Pharaoh than I had 
 been able to do during the course of his lesson, 
 and we remained talking over our book, and he 
 attentively listening to me while I read him 
 various parts of it, for a good hour. It was ten 
 
 I
 
 170 Town and Fore/I. 
 
 o'clock when we parted. When we went out of 
 the house I turned to the right, and he to the 
 left. That was the night of the robbery/' 
 
 "This is singular," said Mr. Curlew, looking 
 at Mr. Meeke. Then addressing Pharaoh 
 
 "My lad/' said he, "do you understand the 
 nature of an oath?" 
 
 Pharaoh looked mystified. Mr. Bolter was in 
 pain for him. 
 
 "Do you," persisted the magistrate, "know 
 there is a God ? " 
 
 Pharaoh's answer was a good deal fuller than 
 any of his hearers expected 
 
 " I believe in God the Father Almighty, Maker 
 of heaven and earth, and in Jesus Christ his only 
 Sou our Lord." 
 
 " Hum ! " said Mr. Curlew, evidently struck. 
 "That is a good deal to say. "Who taught it you ?" 
 
 " He," said Pharaoh, laconically, glancing at 
 Mr. Bolter. 
 
 "It may be mere parrot-knowledge, though/' 
 observed Mr. Curlew.
 
 The Town-hall. 171 
 
 " Ah, sir, how often is it so with all of us ! " 
 exclaimed Mr. Bolter. 
 
 " And you get your living by " 
 
 " Bird-nesting." 
 
 " Hallo ! that doesn't sound over respectable ! " 
 
 " no, sir, he makes no pretensions to belong 
 to the respectable classes/' interposed Mr. Bolter. 
 " But I believe him to be honest and true." 
 
 At this instant Ellen came in, very much 
 flushed with her quick walk; and when she saw 
 Mr. Bolter, she was so surprised that she flushed 
 still more, and looked quite embarrassed. Mr. 
 Meeke kindly led her to a chair. Mr. Curlew 
 spoke to her good-humouredly, and, as there could 
 be nothing but reassurance in the presence of Mr. 
 Bolter, however unlocked for, she soon recovered 
 herself a little, though her face was in a glow. 
 
 The oath was administered to her, which she 
 took reverently, but without hesitation ; and Mr. 
 Curlew then inquired of her whether the prisoner 
 were one of the persons who had broken into 
 Mr. Meeke's house.
 
 172 Town and Fore/I. 
 
 Pharaoh's large black eyes fixed full on hers. 
 To the surprise and grief of Mr. Bolter, she 
 unhesitatingly said 
 
 " Yes, he is the man who stood outside on the 
 ladder." 
 
 "That I didn't!" exclaimed Pharaoh. "Do 
 look at me again, miss \" 
 
 " Why, I remember you quite well," said Ellen, 
 indignantly. " Don't you remember catching my 
 eye just as you took the box ? " 
 
 "Certainly, I don't. How should I, when I 
 never see you till this day ? " cried he, with equal 
 heat. " Oh, don't go to swear away a poor fellow's 
 life!" 
 
 She looked shocked, but her opinion remained 
 unshaken. 
 
 "Miss Miller, do you not think you may be 
 deceived?" said Mr. Bolter, anxiously. 
 
 "Indeed I do not, Mr. Bolter," replied she, 
 much distressed. " I am very sorry to have any- 
 thing to do with the matter, but you know I must 
 speak the truth." And she burst into tears.
 
 The Town-hall. 173 
 
 " Of course you must," replied he, sorrowfully, 
 " only you might be mistaken. And I think," he 
 added, " that you are mistaken." 
 
 She wiped her streaming eyes, and looked hard 
 at Pharaoh, but could not persuade herself she did 
 not know him. 
 
 "Well," said Mr. Curlew, with something like 
 a sigh, " I believe we must commit this young 
 fellow. Indeed, the case seems very clearly made 
 out. He left you, Mr. Bolter, at ten o'clock. 
 There was nothing to hinder his getting down 
 here by one or two in the morning." 
 
 " Except the inclination," said Mr. Bolter. 
 
 " Just so. Well, it can't be helped. I really 
 was in hopes Miss Miller's testimony might have 
 gone the other way. But, as it is, I 'm afraid the 
 charge is but too well founded. It must stand 
 over to the quarter-sessions. They will soon be 
 here." 
 
 "Don't cry so, miss," said Pharaoh, kindly j 
 which made Ellen cry all the more. 
 
 "You needn't handcuff me," said he, rather
 
 1 74 Town and Foreft. 
 
 quickly, to the policeman; "I'm not going to 
 resist." 
 
 Mr. Bolter laid his hand on his shoulder. He 
 looked affectionately up in his face, and a tear 
 shone in his eye, but did not fall. Neither of 
 them said a word. 
 
 Directly Pharaoh got outside the town-hall, his 
 family, seeing him in charge, crowded round him, 
 and were beginning to utter loud cries of sorrow 
 and indignation ; but he suddenly addressed them 
 rapidly in some language only known to them- 
 selves, and with great eagerness evidently told 
 them to do something which they as eagerly pro- 
 mised; and then, while he was carried off to 
 prison, they, with smothered maledictions, quitted 
 the town, and went off, themselves only knew 
 whither certainly not back to Epping. Every 
 gipsy in the forest had cleared out of it hours ago, 
 and scattered east, west, north, and south. 
 
 Mr. Bolter, in some agitation, requested Mr. 
 Curlew's permission to let him see Pharaoh in his 
 captivity. He said he thought he could obtain
 
 The Town-hall. 175 
 
 from him, in private conference, more light on the 
 subject of the robbery than would probably be 
 extracted from him in any other way ; if, indeed, 
 he knew anything at all about it. Mr. Curlew 
 willingly acceded, and shook hands with liim 
 cordially, assuring him that he had been much 
 struck by the incidental information he had gleaned 
 respecting the nature of Mr. Bolter's teaching, and 
 the class among whom he laboured. "I am 
 afraid/' pursued he, "that your good nature has 
 been imposed upon by this poor lad, and that he 
 is not so honest as you think him. However, that 
 is at present only matter of opinion. You will be 
 prepared to come forward as a witness, if called 
 upon ? " 
 
 " Certainly, sir." 
 
 " The nature of your intended conference with 
 him does not, I conclude, bear any analogy to that 
 of a Eomish priest with his penitent ? " 
 
 "O no, sir; I shall only speak to him as 
 friend to friend. I am not going to worm any- 
 thing out of him that may criminate himself. I
 
 176 Town and Foreft. 
 
 am only in hopes lie may clear up his innocence a 
 little. Supposing him to be innocent, you know, 
 we might prove an alibi. The worst of it is, that 
 his own family, who were probably the only per- 
 sons aware of his being elsewhere than on the 
 spot of the robbery, are not likely, I fear, to be 
 admitted as witnesses, not feeling the obligation of 
 an oath. I am afraid they could not witness the 
 good confession Pharaoh did just now." 
 
 Mr. Bolter then spoke a few cheering words to 
 Ellen, who evidently was very much in need of 
 them, and proceeded to Pharaoh's place of durance. 
 On being admitted into his cell, Pharaoh, who was 
 sitting in a corner in an attitude of the utmost 
 despondency, started up with joy, and seizing his 
 hand in both his own, wrung it with vehemence. 
 
 "Oh, this is so good of you \" said he. "To 
 think of the poor gipsy ! " 
 
 " How could I help thinking of you ?" said Mr. 
 Bolter. "Why, just now I can think of nothing 
 else ! Let us sit down and talk it all over ; only 
 don't say anything that you may be sorry for me
 
 The Town-hall. 177 
 
 to tell again, in case of my being obliged to do 
 so." 
 
 "Why, you don't believe I did it?" cried 
 Pharaoh, looking him full in the face. 
 
 " My good lad, I do not. How can we prove 
 to people, however, that it was somebody else? 
 Can you guess who it may have been that Miss 
 Miller took for you ?" 
 
 " Certainly I can," said Pharaoh. 
 
 "Who?" cried Mr. Bolter, with eagerness. 
 
 " Why, now," said Pharaoh, reproachfully, 
 "didn't you. tell me, that very night as it hap- 
 pened, that them that followed Christ must love 
 their brothers as themselves ? How should I do 
 that, if I got my brother into gaol that I might 
 get out?" 
 
 Mr. Bolter was silenced. 
 
 "I don't mean," resumed Pharaoh, presently, 
 " that he is my brother he 's not the son of my 
 father and mother, but he's very near of kin. 
 And you told me that was what the Bible meant." 
 
 "It is."
 
 178 Town and For eft. 
 
 "Then what can I do?" 
 
 " Can you prove you were somewhere else ; and, 
 therefore, could not have been at the robbery ? " 
 
 " Surely ; my father, mother, and grandmother 
 know that." 
 
 " Ah, Pharaoh ! but not one of them, I fear, 
 knows the value of an oath ; and therefore their 
 testimony would be held worthless. Not one of 
 them, I'm afraid, can say as you did, that they 
 believe in God the Father Almighty, Maker of 
 heaven and earth, and in Jesus Christ his only 
 Son our Lord." 
 
 "No, they cannot," said Pharaoh, sighing. 
 "But, now I mind it, I saw Curly Bill, the rat- 
 catcher, that night. He came up to us quite late, 
 and stayed talking to us a good bit. He could 
 say I was in the forest at midnight." 
 
 " Is he a Christian?" 
 
 "Well, I don't know he ought to be. He 
 an't one of us." 
 
 " Where is he to be found ? " 
 
 "That's the puzzle. Father might find him.
 
 The Town-hall. 179 
 
 But, then, father's off now, so you couldn't find 
 him. All of them are off every gipsy in the 
 forest." 
 
 " Perhaps A 1 might find him ?" 
 
 " Likely he might ; for I think he 'd find any- 
 body," said Pharaoh. "Only it would be too 
 bad for, you see, it might get Bill into trouble." 
 
 " Well, you must choose between yourself and 
 your friend." 
 
 " Oh, he 's no friend of mine ; only, you see, 
 we're civil like. Anyway he isn't an enemy. 
 However, I don't know of any trouble it would 
 get him into. I only said it might. My mind 
 doesn't turn agin that, like the other he isn't my 
 kin ; and he 's done no harm, as I knows on." 
 
 " "Well, then, I think we might look up Curly 
 Bill." 
 
 " Yes, I think you might." 
 
 "Where shall we seek him?" 
 
 " Well, there 's a little hut off the forest, about 
 three stones' -throw from the pike. Therein lives 
 an old man with one eye. That old man goes by
 
 180 Town and Fore/I. 
 
 the name of Will Effet. It don't magnify whether 
 that 's his real name or not, he 's called by it, and 
 the reason is, he deals in effets, newts, slow-worms, 
 adders, snails, and such-like." 
 
 " Deals in them ! Why, who can want such 
 nasty things ?" 
 
 " Oh, nothing 's nasty that God made. There 's 
 a person in Covent Garden buys live snakes at five 
 shillings the pound. They're no value to him 
 dead. Some buys 'em for stuffing, and for cu- 
 rosities hedgehogs too: they sell for a shilling. 
 I 've been out, times oft, with Will Effet, hunting 
 for 'em in Essex, and he's given me something 
 for my trouble. Or else I 've got them on my 
 own account, to sell in the streets. I took a 
 hedgehog once with the young ones, and sold the 
 lot for half-a-crown.* People buy 'em to kill 
 black beetles; and when they doesn't eat black 
 beetles, they feed them on bread and milk. 
 Effets is only bought for curosity. Will gets 
 
 * Mayhew's " London Labour and London Poor."
 
 The Town-hall. 181 
 
 twopence a-piece; and snails he sells to French- 
 men ; they boils 'em twice in water, and then in 
 vinegar they say they 're as good as whelks." 
 
 "I shouldn't like to try them!" said Mr. 
 Bolter. 
 
 "No, sir, they're not for such as you. But 
 them foreigners delight in snails, and frogs too 
 they'll buy them by the pailful. Old Will makes 
 a good bit of money, and is very shy of telling 
 where he keeps it ; but for all that, it '11 be found 
 out some day, or some night, if the old man don't 
 mind. Well, sir, I thinks if you or A 1 (better 
 you he '11 be scared at a police), if you goes in a 
 friendly way to Will Effet, and tells him young 
 Pharaoh Smith's got into trouble, and wants 
 Curly Bill to get him out of it I think he '11 help 
 you to where he is." 
 
 " Very well ; your instructions shall be attended 
 to. Meanwhile, Pharaoh, what a capital place 
 this will be for your getting on with your reading ! 
 Nay, I don't see why you should not even learn 
 to write. See ! I have got a sheet of small paper
 
 1 82 Town and Fore/I. 
 
 and a pencil in my pocket I will set you a copy, 
 and you can go over it again and again, till the 
 paper is quite covered. Here you have a nice, 
 dry, quiet room, while the rain is pouring down 
 outside. You are as snug and comfortable as can 
 be, and sure of plenty to eat. Here is your little 
 book I brought it with me you can study your 
 lessons, and get them quite perfect against my 
 next visit. Meanwhile, I will read you a story in 
 the Bible, about a poor innocent young man (in 
 Egypt] , who was cast into prison, and kept there 
 a good deal longer than you, I hope, are likely to 
 be ; and how the Lord befriended him. Then we 
 will pray a little prayer, and then I will leave you." 
 
 " Stone walls do not a prison make, 
 
 Nor iron bars a cage; 
 Minds innocent and quiet take 
 That for an hermitage."
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 MARGARET. 
 
 My crime ? this wasted frame to feed, 
 I seized the food ! your witness saw. 
 I knew your laws forbade the deed, 
 
 But yielded to a harsher law. 
 
 CRABBK. 
 
 Poscia piu che dolor, pot& il digiuno. 
 
 DANTE. 
 
 has become of Margaret? 
 In the course of the week following 
 her parting with Ellen, she finished her sack-work, 
 and found there was no more to be had. Then 
 she went about inquiring for work, but without 
 success. 
 
 Margaret's heart sank ; she had husbanded her
 
 1 84 Town and Forejl. 
 
 little earnings with the utmost closeness, yet had 
 spent them all, though she was faint for want of 
 food, and she had nothing left to sell. 
 
 She had often thought of Ellen, and hoped she 
 would look in on her, and fancied she heard her 
 light foot on the stairs ; but all in vain. 
 
 Extremity of want at length drove her to seek 
 Ellen and implore aid. She drew her wretched 
 shawl around her, and, towards dusk, timidly 
 entered the little shop. But no Ellen was behind 
 the counter; in her place stood a neat, active- 
 looking woman of fifty, whose countenance, though 
 good-tempered, was sharp, and did not diminish 
 Margaret's timidity. 
 
 "What is your business, my good woman?" 
 said she shortly. 
 
 "Can I speak with Miss Miller?" faltered 
 Margaret. 
 
 " Miss Miller is in the country, and has been 
 there several days. She is not expected home for 
 some time." 
 
 Margaret had not another word to say. She
 
 Margaret. 185 
 
 withdrew with a feeling of keen disappointment, 
 and a tear coursed her thin cheek. She retraced 
 her steps in utter despondency. 
 
 As she passed a cook's shop, with, slices of cold 
 meat and pudding invitingly displayed in the 
 window, she quickly turned her head away, for she 
 could not endure the too tempting sight. She 
 was almost wild with hunger ; and as she passed a 
 man selling hot potatoes and roasted apples at the 
 corner of a street, she felt ready to make a snatch 
 at one, and run off with it. What should she do ? 
 
 The next morning she felt less hungry, but 
 weaker. She crept out again in search of work, 
 and strayed on and on, through squalid streets, 
 where, in dingy shop windows, inferior bread was 
 sold retail, in conjunction with "cuttings" of 
 rusty bacon, and fragments from butchers' shops, 
 technically called " pieces." Looking into a small, 
 dirty shop, not far from the Minories, she saw a 
 man turning over some unmade articles of clothing. 
 She went in and asked him if he could give her 
 some work.
 
 1 86 Town and For eft. 
 
 The man looked sharply at her, and asked her 
 one or two questions. Then he held up a very 
 smart-looking waistcoat, partly made, and said, 
 ' ' What will you take for finishing this ? " 
 
 " What you please," said Margaret, hesitatingly, 
 and afraid of losing the job. 
 
 "There, then," said he, throwing it towards 
 her, "I'll give you threepence-halfpenny for 
 finishing it, and supply you with twist, thread, 
 and buttons." 
 
 " That is very little," said Margaret wistfully. 
 
 " Why, it will be a better bargain to you than 
 to me," said he. "A Jew tailor is to pay me 
 sixpence for it, and I am to find the thread and 
 the twist. I shall only clear three- halfpence by 
 the job.* You may take it or leave it." 
 
 He looked almost as wretched as herself; and 
 there appeared little chance of his raising his price. 
 With a deep sigh she took it, leaving him her 
 name and address. 
 
 * Authentic.
 
 Margaret. 187 
 
 A mizzling rain had set in; by the time she 
 reached home she was wet through. Chilled and 
 comfortless, she was crawling upstairs, when her 
 landlady met her, and sharply reminded her that 
 her week's rent was due. Margaret said de- 
 spairingly, "I have some work here I expect to 
 finish before dark. I hope to get paid by-and-by." 
 
 It was but a subterfuge, for she knew that the 
 threepence-halfpenny would not pay her rent, nor 
 even supply her with bread till Monday morning. 
 The woman, however, went away satisfied, and 
 Margaret set to work, tremulous with weakness 
 and excitement. She worked fast, but, just before 
 she had completed her task, she suddenly became 
 giddy, and fell on the floor. There she lay till 
 she recovered herself again ; and, scarcely able to 
 sit up, resumed and finished her work. It was 
 getting dusk: she had a long wet walk before 
 her, for her miserable pittance. As she went 
 along, a savage desire for food seized her ; she felt 
 she must eat or die ; nay, eat, if to eat were to die. 
 It was a stronger temptation than Eve's. Instead
 
 1 88 Town and Fore/I. 
 
 of going to her employer's, she turned into the 
 first pawnbroker's, forced her way through a 
 group of people looking as woe-begone as herself, 
 and pledged the waistcoat for five shillings ! 
 
 Then she rushed into the nearest eating-house, 
 and hoarsely said, "Soup a basin of hot, good 
 soup, with meat in it ; and. a good piece of bread." 
 
 In a minute or two she was swallowing it, 
 almost scalding hot. It was well that the heat 
 made her take it less greedily, or it might have 
 killed her. It was strong, nourishing, relishing 
 soup, well spiced, with savoury slices of onion and 
 carrot, and morsels of stewed meat bobbing about 
 in it. She devoured it as Esau devoured the 
 pottage, and was warmed and satiated. 
 
 Then, after sitting still a little while, she gave a 
 deep sigh, laid down a shilling for the soup, and 
 went forth. She bought bread, cheese, and tea 
 by the way, and paid her rent. Then she lay 
 down in the dark, to feel she had committed 
 a crime, and to wish herself dead. 
 
 "Ahi, dura terra! perche non t'apristi?"
 
 Margaret. 189 
 
 The next morning she woke strengthened and 
 refreshed. She made a tolerable breakfast, but 
 without much relish. She had lost her self-respect ; 
 and she had a vague dread of the morrow. 
 
 She could not make up her mind to go out. She 
 sat idly watching the people in the court, haggling, 
 gossiping, and squabbling. What a different 
 Sabbath from that spent with Ellen ! 
 
 Towards dusk, her solitude became intolerable. 
 The streets were dry; she resolved to go forth, 
 though without any settled purpose. She walked 
 on and on, in a slow, slouching kind of way, looking 
 dully at the groups of tidy, cheerful people flock- 
 ing to church and chapel ; but she sought neither. 
 Thus she strayed along, and was beginning to feel 
 inexpressibly mournful, and a strange longing for 
 running water, or a still, deep pool, began to overtake 
 her; and somebody seemed telling her how quiet 
 and still it would be underneath; and she said, oh ! 
 no, no, she could not bear it ; she was afraid ; and 
 the other seemed to say there was nothing to be 
 afraid of, and nothing else to do; to-morrow
 
 190 Town and Forejt. 
 
 would be too late this way ! this way ! . . . 
 and 
 
 " I doesn't mind going there," one poor woman 
 was saying, in passing, to another, " for he makes 
 us all welcome, and we 're all so shabby that none 
 can sneer at the others. He says the Lord Jesus 
 sent him expressly to such as we/' 
 
 O blessed hearing ! Ta such as we ? Margaret 
 followed the two poor women as they entered a very 
 humble doorway, and there she found herself in a 
 very poor room, containing about twenty poor 
 people, as meanly clad as herself, taking part in a 
 service of some sort, already begun. She heard a 
 deep, clear, earnest, persuasive voice, in accents 
 that sank into the heart, saying 
 
 "'Come unto me, all ye that labour and are 
 heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my 
 yoke upon you, and learn of me, for I am meek 
 and lowly in heart, and ye shall find rest unto your 
 souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is 
 light.'" 
 
 She listened and wept. Afterwards he went on
 
 Margaret. 
 
 to say " We are told of a man possessed by an 
 evil spirit, which, by the great mercy of God, was 
 cast out of him. This unhappy person, instead of 
 testifying his gratitude for what the Lord had done 
 by an altered walk, is represented as hurrying into 
 an utterly reckless course of self-abandonment ; so 
 that the evil one, returning to see how it fared with 
 his late captive, finds his soul literally laid open to 
 his entrance, like a house swept and garnished for 
 the welcome of the first guest that had a mind to 
 turn in ; on which he, quick as thought, summons 
 seven other spirits, even more wicked than himself, 
 to enter in and take possession ; and the last state 
 of that man was worse than the first ! Now, can 
 anything be conceived more appalling? If ever 
 there was a human creature beyond the pale of 
 God's forgiveness, and without the faintest hope 
 of redemption, must it not have been such a man 
 as this ? 
 
 " My friends, we have the sequel to the history 
 of a person in precisely this case. There was a 
 woman who, sorely tempted, no doubt, appears to
 
 Town and For eft. 
 
 have sorely sinned. Perhaps the sense of unfor- 
 given, unrepented sin drove her mad, or left her 
 exposed, in an extraordinary way, to the influence 
 of the powers of darkness. This unhappy creature, 
 who, in earlier days, may have been as innocent, 
 as cheerful, as light-hearted, as beloved as any one 
 living, was now an object for the finger of scorn to 
 point at given np by her friends as lost ! Out 
 of that woman our Lord cast seven devils ! Yes ! 
 though her last state had been worse than her 
 first, he took her part! Though a strong man 
 armed had taken possession of the citadel, another 
 came to the rescue, who proved himself stronger 
 than he, bound him neck and heels, and cast him 
 out, never to return ! Let none ever despair who 
 can remember Mary Magdalene ! 
 
 " Now, what was her subsequent course ? It 
 was completely changed. She followed Jesus. 
 Whatever she did, wherever she went, it was all at 
 the will of Jesus. The voice of pleasure had no 
 longer any allurement for her; neither was she 
 susceptible to desperation or despair : she saw
 
 Margaret. 1 93 
 
 there was plenty of Christian work to be done, 
 even by such a poor creature as herself ; she hung 
 on his words ; she listened to his sermons ; she 
 learned from him how blessed are the meek, the 
 merciful, the peaceful, the pure in heart ; she 
 learnt that even a cup of cold water, bestowed in 
 his name, should not fail of its reward ; she heard 
 him say, 'Her sins are forgiven; for she loved 
 much!' and, again, 'She hath done what she 
 could! Is it wonderful that this woman, when all 
 his disciples forsook him and fled, stood with his 
 mother at the foot of his cross? and that she 
 sought him in the sepulchre very early in the 
 morning, while it was yet dark? And how 
 exquisite was her reward \" 
 
 Margaret listened with enchained attention. She 
 knelt with the others, she tried to pray with the 
 others, but her soul was heaving and tossing, like 
 the troubled sea, that cannot rest. The others rose 
 and departed, leaving her there, kneeling alone, her 
 head upon her arms. 
 
 Mr. Bolter, taking his hat, and about to depart, 
 
 K
 
 194 Town and Foreji. 
 
 suddenly became aware of her presence. He made 
 as great a mistake as Eli did when he thought 
 Hannah was drunken. Mr. Bolter thought 
 Margaret was asleep. Lightly touching her on 
 the shoulder, he said, "My good woman, the 
 service is over. I dare say you were tired/' 
 
 She raised her haggard face for a moment, and 
 then, instead of rising, fell at his feet. 
 
 "Oh," said she, "I'm worse than Mary 
 Magdalene." 
 
 Mr. Bolter, startled, awaited what she had to 
 say. 
 
 " I have been dishonest," said she, " and I have 
 been on the point of ending my wretched life." 
 
 He made her rise and sit down. He spoke 
 peace to her soul, in words calm, strong, and 
 persuasive. She listened, wept, and was com- 
 forted. He showed her there was forgiveness 
 even for such as she was. Then he bade her go 
 quietly home, and he would see her in the 
 morning. She gave him her name and address, 
 and went on her way consoled.
 
 Margaret. 
 
 The next morning, though Mr. Bolter repaired 
 early to Flag Court, he arrived too late Margaret 
 was already in the hands of justice. He followed 
 her to the office, where her case was being brought 
 before the sitting magistrate, who was listening to 
 it with great attention and patience. 
 
 It appeared that Messrs. Aarons, wholesale 
 tailors and outfitters, had given the waistcoat to a 
 man named Jones, or Jonas, who undertook to 
 get it made for a shilling. Jones had a stitching- 
 machine, which stitched the seams, for which he 
 reserved to himself sixpence, and then turned over 
 the waistcoat to the man who had employed 
 Margaret, whose name was Samuels, who was to 
 receive the other sixpence for finishing the waist- 
 coat. He, as has been seen, gave Margaret the 
 work to do for threepence-halfpenny. 
 
 A tailor in court said the materials were worth 
 seven shillings, and the waistcoat, finished as it 
 was, would probably sell for twelve shillings. Mr. 
 D'Arlincourt, touched with the emaciated appear- 
 ance of Margaret and of Samuels, sent for Mr.
 
 196 Town and Fore/I. 
 
 Aarons, who refused to attend, saying he was too 
 busy. 
 
 Mr. D'Arlincourt said it was clear this was a 
 system which gradually ground the work-people 
 to the dust. Most sincerely did he wish that 
 dealers, by contenting themselves with smaller 
 profits, would enable their work-people to receive 
 more suitable remuneration. 
 
 Margaret was then ordered to pay the redeeming 
 value, or, in default, to be imprisoned three days, 
 and was fined five shillings for the illegal pawning ; 
 failing to pay which, she was to be subjected to 
 additional imprisonment. 
 
 Mr. Bolter desperately rummaged his pockets ; 
 alas ! they only contained about half the amount. 
 Meanwhile, Margaret was carried off to prison; 
 but he hastened to Mr. Truebur/s house of busi- 
 ness, and, briefly acquainting him with the case, 
 immediately obtained the needful sum for Mar- 
 garet's release. 
 
 When the poor creature found herself once 
 more in the open air, she staggered, and would
 
 Margaret. 
 
 have fallen to the ground had not Mr. Bolter 
 caught her. With white lips that almost refused 
 utterance, she said to him : 
 
 " I think I am going to be very ill. Can you 
 take me to some hospital ? " 
 
 " I can and will/' replied he, with the utmost ' 
 kindness. 
 
 The next instant she fainted away. Leaving 
 her in charge of a neat, venerable old woman, who 
 had been watching them from her shop-door with 
 great commiseration, he again hurried off to Mr. 
 Truebury, got an order for her admission into the 
 nearest hospital, returned to her in a cab, placed 
 her, just recovering, in it, and drove off with her. 
 He waited about the hospital till she had been 
 placed in bed and seen by the house-surgeon, who 
 pronounced her to be sickening of a low fever. 
 He saw- her, spoke a few cheering words, bade her 
 place her faith in God, and took his leave with a 
 heavy heart. 
 
 In that hospital Margaret remained six weeks. 
 For some time she hovered on the brink of the
 
 198 Town and Fore/I. 
 
 grave; but it pleased God that she should at 
 length recover. 
 
 When Mr. Bolter next visited his kind super- 
 intendent, with what intense interest Dr. Grace 
 listened to his detailed report of the cases of 
 Pharaoh and Margaret !
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 IS SEEING BELIEVING? 
 
 Look upon this picture and on that. 
 
 HAMLET. 
 
 1,^ LLEN was walking in the garden in rather a 
 
 dejected frame of mind, while the children 
 
 were racing with Neptune along the broad, straight 
 
 gravel walks, when Mrs. Quain came out to tell 
 
 her that she was again wanted at the town-hall. 
 
 Ellen was sick of the town-hall : however, there 
 was no help for it ; so she started on her walk of 
 about three quarters of a mile, to the little borough 
 in which stood that ancient and very ugly red-
 
 2OO Town and For eft. 
 
 brick edifice, with a roof like that of the royal 
 palace of Madagascar. The walk itself was a 
 pleasant one enough in fine weather, and under 
 ordinarily agreeable circumstances ; but Ellen was 
 beginning to have disagreeable associations with 
 every step of the way, and to look forward with 
 longing to the time when she should once more 
 be seated in her own snug little parlour with John. 
 
 On entering the town-hall, there she saw Mr. 
 Curlew, policeman A, the prisoner, the clerk, Mr. 
 Meeke, and one or two others as before. But 
 what very much pleased her was to see Mrs. 
 Meeke also, who shook hands with her, and spoke 
 a few kind words. 
 
 "Now then, Miss Miller," said Mr. Curlew, 
 somewhat impatiently, "we must again put you 
 upon oath. Now then, look at the prisoner, and 
 say, is he the man who stood on the ladder outside 
 Mr. Meeke's window? Look once, look twice, 
 look three times." 
 
 "I told you before, sir," said Ellen, rather 
 nettled, " that I am quite sure he is the man."
 
 Is Seeing Believing? 201 
 
 " What ! he who stands there ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir/' 
 
 "Why, Miss Miller, that is not the man you 
 saw here before." 
 
 Ellen started from head to foot. 
 
 "Not the same ?" said she, faltering. 
 
 " Produce the other gipsy," said Mr. Curlew to 
 A 1, who immediately brought forward Pharaoh, 
 and placed him beside the other. They were 
 strikingly alike. But the expression of Pharaoh's 
 counterpart was dogged and sullen. 
 
 Ellen turned red, and then pale. 
 
 "I am very sorry," said she, speaking with 
 painful effort, " that I made such a mistake." 
 
 " You did make a mistake, then ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " Explain yourself fully. Which is the man you 
 saw at the window ? " 
 
 "Not Pharaoh Smith. The man who stands 
 beside him." 
 
 " You are quite certain ?" 
 
 " Quite certain." 
 
 K2
 
 2O2 Town and For eft. 
 
 " How came you to make such a mistake ? " 
 
 "Why, sir, you yourself must allow they are 
 very much alike ; and when I first saw Pharaoh, he 
 struck me as so much like the housebreaker that I 
 felt assured it must be he; but now I see the 
 very man, there 's all the difference in the world ! " 
 
 The prisoner scowled. Pharaoh looked im- 
 mensely relieved. 
 
 " Well, I think we may consider the point clear 
 now," said Mr. Curlew. " Especially, Miss Miller, 
 as an old blue handkerchief, soaked in blood, which 
 was found behind your garden hedge, has been iden- 
 tified as this man's handkerchief. Prisoner, have 
 you anything to say ? Do you hear me ? I see 
 that you do. You are ' mute of malice/ Well, it 
 makes no difference. You wiD be committed, and 
 Pharaoh Smith is released." 
 
 Pharaoh's eye flashed with joy, and yet he could 
 not help giving a look of pity at his cousin, as he 
 was removed. 
 
 " How sorry I am I caused you to be falsely 
 imprisoned ! " said Ellen.
 
 Is Seeing Believing ? 2,03 
 
 "Oh, miss, it don't magnify. But I'm very 
 glad to be out. I must go and tell them all ! " 
 And, with a hasty, rough sort of bow to the com- 
 pany, Pharaoh disappeared.* 
 
 A good deal of talking ensued. Poor Ellen met 
 with her due share of pity for her uncomfortable 
 mistake : though, as she truly said, Pharoah was 
 
 * This tale was finished towards the close of 1858. 
 In the Times for March 10, 1859, appeared a trial which 
 it might be supposed, but for the above fact, that I 
 had copied. A gipsy aged 23, named Guilliers Heron, 
 was tried at the York assizes for robbing a lad named 
 Kichard Gillbank of two shillings. Gillbank was re- 
 turning from work at half-past four in the afternoon, 
 when two gipsies, one of them wearing very long hair, 
 came up to him, threatened, assaulted, and robbed him. 
 He immediately got a policeman to accompany him to 
 the gipsy camp, where he identified the prisoner to his 
 own satisfaction, as the one who had taken his money. 
 The prisoner, however, called witnesses to prove an 
 alibi. There were six brothers of them, who were all 
 in their tent, supping on hedgehog (hodjun) when the 
 robbery was alleged to have taken place. Some of 
 these brothers came forward, and were so like the 
 prisoner that a mistake might easily have been made. 
 The gipsy was acquitted. Many gipsies were in court 
 watching the case with intense anxiety.
 
 204 Town and Forejl. 
 
 the real object of compassion. She was very glad 
 to hear from Mrs. Meeke that her children were 
 well, and sent down to their aunt's at the sea-side, 
 and that she had come to fetch home the others. 
 
 They walked back to Tranquil Yale very cheer- 
 fully. The children came bounding out of the house 
 to meet their parents, and were almost as delighted 
 to return to town by rail as they had been to come 
 to Tranquil Yale. 
 
 Though many of the trees were now leafless, the 
 country looked lovely ; but Ellen had no regrets. 
 She was heartily glad to find herself, at dusk, in 
 her own little parlour, enjoying a voluble gossip 
 with Mrs. Puller and Betsy, who were eager to hear 
 her full and particular account of the burglary. 
 Just as she had exhausted the subject, John came 
 in, and then she had to go all over it again. Mrs. 
 Fuller and Betsy left them to themselves, and they 
 had a long uninterrupted talk till it grew quite late. 
 Then Mr. Bolter came in, very tired and pale, 
 but looking pleased. Pharaoh had found him out, 
 and told him, with great glee, of his release ; but
 
 Is Seeing Believing? 205 
 
 lie had also told him that, for a time, he must see 
 his face no more, as his family considered his life 
 in jeopardy from the kindred of the prisoner, and 
 they were all going to some considerable distance 
 till the matter had blown over. Thus this 
 promising pupil was lost. 
 
 "It is always so," added Mr. Bolter, sighing. 
 " People of the class among whom I labour are 
 always on the move. Either they get out of the 
 way of the missionary directly he pricks their con- 
 sciences, or, as soon as he has stirred them up to a 
 better way of living, they go to some less disrepu- 
 table locality, or they fall into misfortunes, or into 
 the hands of justice, or they get work in another 
 neighbourhood. Anyhow, he loses them just as he 
 is becoming interested in them." 
 
 Then he told Ellen of poor Margaret's sad story. 
 She heard it with a degree of remorse, for not 
 having bestirred herself for her, and saved her in 
 the first instance from falling to such a depth 
 of wretchedness; but, as she said, circumstances 
 had been against her; and too often, in cases
 
 206 Town and Forejl. 
 
 of this sort, to be out of sight is to be out of 
 mind. 
 
 She resolved to go the next day to see her at the 
 hospital. However, Betsy Brick was busy, so Ellen 
 could not leave the shop ; and the first day she 
 could and did leave it, to go to the hospital, 
 Margaret was gone. Ellen then sought her at Flag 
 Court, but she had been seen nothing of there since 
 she was taken to the police-court. The attic was 
 let to another lodger. 
 
 A day or two afterwards, as Ellen sat sewing 
 behind her little counter, a square-built, brisk- 
 looking old gentleman stepped in and said " Are 
 you Miss Miller ? Yes ; I see you are. Well, I 'm 
 Mr. Meeke. I 've come back from the Continent 
 not too soon, I think to look after my property ; 
 and I am now come to thank you very heartily for 
 so vigorously defending it." 
 
 They had a good deal of chat together, and Mr. 
 Meeke told her that the other man had been taken, 
 his face sadly disfigured by his fall from the window, 
 which had likewise dislocated his ankle ; and that
 
 Is Seeing Believing? 2,07 
 
 there was every chance of their both being trans- 
 ported for that robbery and others which had 
 occurred a little before. He believed Ellen would 
 have to appear as witness, but she would not be the 
 only one ; there was a worse case against them, and 
 he would see her through it, if they were not con- 
 victed upon the first count, so that she might make 
 herself quite comfortable. 
 
 A few days afterwards, this brisk old gentleman 
 sent Ellen a very handsome workbox the com- 
 pletest thing of the kind she had ever seen with 
 a very friendly note, begging her acceptance of it. 
 
 Ellen became aware, very soon after her return 
 home, that an incipient attachment had sprung up, 
 during her absence, between John and Betsy Brick, 
 who now, by the way, preferred being called 
 "Bessy." Ellen could not have a word to say against 
 it ; she thought Bessy a very nice girl indeed ; and 
 thought John was hardly well-to-do enough to 
 marry. Marriage did not yet seem to be in 
 question : she did not even think there was any- 
 thing like an engagement only, they evidently
 
 208 Town and Fore/I. 
 
 had a warmer, tenderer feeling towards each other 
 than there had been any symptoms of before 
 Ellen went to Tranquil Yale. 
 
 One evening, Mr. Bolter received a letter, which 
 interested him a good deal. It was to this effect : 
 
 "Sin 
 
 " You may remember a poor woman who first 
 fell under your notice at a Sunday evening prayer- 
 meeting, whom you afterwards saw at a police- 
 office, and whom you subsequently conveyed to a 
 fever hospital. 
 
 " That person now addresses you. Though re- 
 covered from my illness, I left the hospital utterly 
 destitute of worldly means of support, and with a 
 mind oppressed with anguish. 
 
 " Chance, or rather a good Providence, directed 
 me to the means of an honest, though poor liveli- 
 hood. I am now constantly employed many 
 hours of the day, and my earnings are sufficient to 
 feed and clothe me, and supply me with a humble 
 lodging.
 
 Is Seeing Believing? 209 
 
 " That I should be the recipient of such mercy 
 almost exceeds my belief, and it awakens the 
 liveliest gratitude. I feel that to testify my thanks 
 for the precious pardon of an offended God, there 
 are other ways than words ; and I have thought 
 over many plans of devoting the few hours I have 
 daily at my own disposal to His service. Only 
 one of these appears to me practicable; and 
 it is to ask your co-operation in it that I now 
 address you. 
 
 "During the time I was in the hospital, I had 
 frequent opportunities of witnessing the utterly 
 friendless condition of many poor outcasts who 
 sought admission to its charity, the filthy condition 
 of their persons and clothing proving their need of 
 a female hand to promote their decency and com- 
 fort. I am well aware, sir, that in your missionary 
 visits to the poor and needy, you meet with 
 many such who have none to help them. Now, I 
 would wish to dedicate my spare time (two or 
 three hours a day), not so much to the decent 
 poor, who have a claim on the sympathy of their
 
 2i o Town and Fore/I. 
 
 neighbours, as to those of my own sex whom, from 
 their utterly squalid and abject condition, no ten- 
 derly-reared female could suitably approach. To 
 me, who, by God's mercy, have been rescued from 
 a like miserable state, such cases will have nothing 
 repelling; and I shall esteem it another benefit 
 from you if you will direct me to such as will 
 derive advantage from my aid. No matter how 
 low they may be sunk, I will cleanse their persons, 
 their rooms, mend their clothing, and see that 
 their food is properly cooked. In any way that 
 you can make me useful, you may command the 
 services of 
 
 " Sir, your obedient humble servant, 
 
 " MARGARET SCOTT. 
 " 11, Primrose Court, Hopkinsville. 
 
 "You will see me at your Sabbath-evening 
 lecture, and can speak to me, if it pleases you, 
 after the service." * 
 
 * The greater part of this letter is authentic. See 
 " The Book and its Missions."
 
 Is Seeing Believing? 211 
 
 Need it be said that Margaret was soon in full 
 employ, under Mr. Bolter's direction ? He found 
 her sharing her one small room with a poor widow 
 woman, an aged, decrepit creature, deprived of the 
 use of her lower limbs, but able to support herself by 
 sewing and knitting, cheerful as a bird, and full of 
 psalms and hymns and spiritual songs. The room, 
 though poorly furnished, was not destitute of com- 
 forts, and was a spectacle of cleanliness and neat- 
 ness. There were books on a shelf; flowers and a 
 blackbird in the window. Margaret herself scarcely 
 looked the same creature; though still pale and 
 thin, her features had lost their look of care ; and 
 a mild light shone in her soft dark eye, while her 
 mouth frequently wore a smile of pensive sweet- 
 ness. Her dress was exquisitely neat and clean, 
 though of the humblest materials ; and her appear- 
 ance in every respect was creditable and en- 
 couraging. 
 
 She soon proved a most efficient ally to Mr. 
 Bolter; and, now that her altered course had 
 enabled her to recover her self-respect, she would
 
 212 Town and Forejl. 
 
 sometimes drop in at dusk on Ellen, who rejoiced 
 to see her, and would enter into the details of her 
 work. 
 
 " It appears," said she, " that God is graciously 
 marking out a path for me in which alone I am fit 
 to labour. I know nothing of the customs and 
 manners of the rich; I could not undertake the 
 most menial service in a gentleman's house ; but I 
 can talk to the poor outcasts among whom my 
 work is, in a way they can understand, and that 
 commands their attention. I can help the ne- 
 glected poor and aged ; I can coax young children 
 to go to school; and now, through Mr. Bolter's 
 intervention, I am beginning, as a paid agent, to 
 circulate the word of life, and read portions of it 
 to those who are willing to hear me."* 
 
 " How is it," said Ellen, suddenly, " that you 
 express yourself so well, both in speaking and 
 writing ? " 
 
 " If I do so," said Margaret, simply, " it must 
 
 * Ibid.
 
 Is Seeing Believing? 213 
 
 jome by nature or grace, for I have had little 
 enough teaching ; yet, now I think of it, my grand- 
 mother, who brought me up, must have been a 
 very superior woman, for she expressed herself 
 remarkably well, and she was familiar with the 
 Scriptures. But she died when I was ten years 
 old, and ray grandfather was a very bad old man. 
 He used to boast that he had killed as many deer 
 in Hainault and Epping Forests as he had hairs on 
 his head." 
 
 "Was he your grandfather?" cried Ellen. "I 
 have heard Mr. Bolter speak of that old man." 
 
 "You cannot be surprised," said Margaret, 
 " that the son of such a father turned out wild ; 
 in fact, I often saw little of my father for days and 
 months together ; and, as for my mother, she died 
 when I was an infant; so all the good I learnt 
 was of my grandmother; and I think it may be 
 that now my mind is more under the influence of 
 divine grace, her ways of thinking and speaking 
 may come back to me in some degree. But her 
 husband and son used her very badly ; and when
 
 214 Town and Foreji. 
 
 she died, I neither heard nor saw anything that 
 was good, or could lead me upwards. When my 
 grandfather and I were left to ourselves my life 
 was dull enough, and I had no means of self- 
 improvement; but things got worse when my 
 father brought home a second wife of the lowest 
 description, who made me wretched. I so con- 
 stantly heard low thoughts and low language, that, 
 though I hated both, it could hardly fail but that 
 my mind should be injured by them. My step- 
 mother, however, paid me the compliment of 
 thinking me too good for my company. She was 
 always trying to reduce me to her own level ; and 
 when she found it in vain, her hatred of me 
 became so active that, in self-defence, I left home 
 to seek to maintain myself. I obtained employ- 
 ment at a furnishing warehouse, as you know, but 
 got into trouble, and gradually sank lower and 
 lower till I became what you found me." She 
 sighed deeply. 
 
 "The wonder is," said Ellen, "that you have 
 since become what you are now."
 
 Is Seeing Believing? 215 
 
 " Ay, the wonder and the mercy ! And there- 
 fore it is that I feel myself called upon, in an 
 especial manner, to be the helper of a class of 
 persons below the decent poor persons beyond 
 the range of spiritual or moral elevation (of whom 
 there is an immense mass underlying the surface 
 of decent society), beings whose sole object is to 
 live, no matter by what vice, nor in what filth and 
 wretchedness." 
 
 "They must be a very uncomfortable class to 
 labour among." 
 
 "Ah!" said Margaret, smiling and such a 
 heavenly expression irradiated her countenance as 
 to make it almost beautiful, " the end reconciles 
 one to the means ! I find my way into courts 
 where no one even professes to gain an honest 
 livelihood courts swarming with children for- 
 saken by parents who never were married, who 
 have no desire for, no knowledge of, a better 
 existence who live by 'tossing/ by thieving, by 
 passing bad money : you may get a bad shilling in 
 Whitechapel for twopence-halfpenny. Then when
 
 2, 1 6 Town and Fore/I. 
 
 I penetrate into the dwellings, I find them little 
 better than cow-houses, and not nearly as sweet 
 the window-frame stuffed with rags, the bed a heap 
 of old shavings, the floor littered with hare-skins 
 and rabbit-skins, the smell of which is enough to 
 breed a fever. In such dens as these you cannot 
 be surprised that they often say to me, ' Of what 
 use is it for you to come here? What use are 
 your Bibles to us?* yet I am content if, after 
 visiting every room in every house in the court, I 
 find but one subscriber. To collect that one sub- 
 scriber's penny a week, gives me a recognised object 
 for going again and again. And then my course is 
 clear."
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 BROTHER AND SISTER. 
 
 How blest the sacred tie that binds 
 
 In union sweet according minds ! 
 
 How swift the heavenly course they run, 
 
 Whose hearts, whose faith, whose hopes are one ! 
 
 " TT^LLEN," said John Miller to his sister, as 
 they sat together over the fire, " I think 
 you must have observed, since your return from 
 the country, a difference in my manner towards 
 Bessy." 
 
 " Well," said Ellen, " I have." 
 
 " What do you think about it ? " said John. 
 
 "I think her a very nice girl indeed, John.
 
 2i 8 Town and Fore/I. 
 
 Not only pretty and pleasant, but with really good 
 principles and a sweet temper/' 
 
 " Yes, she 'a all that/' said John. " The thing 
 is, I don't exactly know what to say on the subject 
 of marriage." 
 
 " If you don't, who is to ? " said Ellen, smiling. 
 
 " What I mean is, I don't know whether it is 
 well for me to think of marrying at all. If I were 
 to think of it, there can be no doubt that Bessy 
 would be my choice if she would have me." 
 
 " Certainly, your clerkship is not much to marry 
 on," said Ellen. " Still, it keeps you and me, and 
 therefore would keep you and her." 
 
 " What, and for us to turn you adrift? Oh, oh!" 
 
 " Don't think of me for a minute, John. I shall 
 do very well, some way or other. Who knows but 
 I may marry too, if you set me the example ? " 
 
 She laughed merrily ; but in reality she had not 
 such a thought in her head. 
 
 " Just so ; you and Mr. Bolter," said John, in 
 the same tone. Then, more gravely, " Well, but 
 putting you out of the question, even then I should
 
 Brother and Sifter. 219 
 
 have little enough to set up on with Bessy ; but 
 
 suppose I had still less ? " 
 
 " Why should we suppose any such thing ?" 
 "Because I have now and then thought of 
 
 giving up my clerkship." 
 "Oh, John! What for?" 
 " To try to be another Mr. Bolter." 
 " John, you take away my breath." 
 " Yes ; I knew you wonld be surprised ; but I 
 
 really have had serious thoughts of it. Sometimes 
 
 the wish comes over me very strongly. I almost 
 
 think it is as strong a feeling at times as my feeling 
 
 for Bessy." 
 
 "Well, they need not clash. Missionaries do 
 
 not take vows to live single like monks." 
 
 "No, but at first starting, at any rate, they 
 
 would work better as single men. Moreover, the 
 
 necessary preparation would place an interval 
 
 between my first decision and my first start." 
 "John, you have surprised me so, I cannot 
 
 immediately think clearly. I had no idea Mr. 
 
 Bolter had so much influence over you."
 
 2,2,o Town and Fore/I. 
 
 " His earnestness constrains me ! When I see 
 such reality of zeal in that man, such complete 
 devotion of himself to his work, and when I think 
 of the indescribable importance of that work it 
 seems to me quite contemptible in comparison to 
 go on casting up brewers' bills ! especially when I 
 know that labourers in the vineyard are so wanted ! " 
 
 " Well, it is a very momentous step to take. I 
 hope you will do nothing rashly." 
 
 "I promise you I will not. And, mark you, 
 Ellen ! though I feel impelled to be a co-labourer 
 of Mr. Bolter's, I do not feel equal to doing the 
 same work. I am ready for Hainault Forest, but 
 not for Hopkinsville ! It would be too depressing 
 I could not stand it." 
 
 The conversation was interrupted by the return 
 of Mr. Bolter. Somehow, it had become quite a 
 settled thing for him to board with John and Ellen ; 
 a very pleasant arrangement for them, as they were 
 so fond of his company; and a wonderful advantage 
 and comfort to him, who required the cheerfulness 
 of a home circle on returning from his exhausting
 
 Brother and Sifter. 221 
 
 duties, and who infinitely preferred eating and 
 drinking such things as were set before him to 
 catering for himself. So he had made a little 
 pecuniary arrangement with his kind friends which 
 proved satisfactory to both. 
 
 He had now established weekly and Sunday 
 meetings for prayer and study of the Scriptures, 
 adult reading-classes, a savings' bank, a reading- 
 room, and loan library; and the daily schools under 
 the patronage of the Society of Friends, Independ- 
 ents, and Baptists, were progressing most encou- 
 ragingly, side by side with those of the Established 
 Church. There was so much to do that there was 
 room for all. Unfortunately, typhus and scarlet fever, 
 small-pox and cholera, were all at work in this pesti- 
 lential district, and considerably thinning its popula- 
 tion, besides rendering many who did not die unfit 
 for work. Mr. Bolter visited many of these cases, 
 and more than once sat up with the sick all night. 
 Had he been a Xavier or a Borromeo he would 
 have been canonised ; as he was only a poor city 
 missionary he was not. "But he shall be mine,
 
 222 Town and Fore/I. 
 
 saith the Lord, in the day when I make up my 
 jewels." 
 
 As he does not lead a charmed life, behold 1 our 
 friend Bolter is laid low by fever himself. There he 
 is, quite delirious, in a little, clean, but very humble 
 bedroom, with John beside him, and a calm, 
 thoughtful woman dressed in dark brown, with the 
 whitest of caps and aprons, ministering to him. It 
 is Margaret, who is utterly fearless of infection; 
 while Ellen, downstairs, is preparing refreshing 
 beverages for him, and now and then wiping the 
 blinding tears from her eyes. 
 
 Well, it pleased God to restore our good friend 
 to something like health, though he was never 
 again to be the man he had been before. His 
 medical man and Dr. Grace (the latter of whom 
 had considerably inconvenienced himself by keeping 
 up Mr. Bolter's prayer-services as much as he could) 
 were both strongly of opinion that his constitution 
 had received such a shock as to render it expedient, 
 nay, a duty he owed himself, to exchange his dis- 
 trict for one in a healthier locality; but directly
 
 Brother and Sifter. 223 
 
 the subject was broached, Mr. Bolter burst into 
 tears and said, " Oh, I cannot, cannot leave my poor 
 people ! Do not urge it, I beseech you ! I would 
 rather die in Hopkinsville than live anywhere 
 else!"* 
 
 And this feeling was found to be so rooted, that 
 there was no good in trying to shake it out of him ; 
 so that his doctor gave up the effort with a shrug, 
 and good Dr. Grace fervently commended him in 
 prayer to God. And that prayer seemed wonderfully 
 answered. Mr. Bolter became better from that day. 
 Mr. Truebury had him down to Grey Nuns, and 
 found a lodging for him, free of cost, at his own 
 bailiffs, where the good people made much of him, 
 and feasted him with new milk, new-laid eggs, 
 cream, home-made bread, home-brewed ale, and 
 other good things, till they made him quite stout 
 and hearty. 
 
 One day, when he was strolling among the wood- 
 lands, he came to a long, narrow, rushen basket, 
 with a net over it, containing a live leveret, at the 
 * Authentic.
 
 224 Town and Forejl. 
 
 foot of a tall tree ; and, just as he was stooping to 
 examine it, a voice from aloft exclaimed, " Oh, my 
 master ! my teacher ! " and down slid Pharaoh with 
 prodigious swiftness, holding a squirrel by the tail, 
 that was doing his utmost to bite him, in his left 
 hand, while his right hand was eagerly extended to 
 Mr. Bolter. 
 
 "To think of our meeting so near our old 
 ground ! " cried Pharaoh, joyfully. " "We haven't 
 been here long, but all 's safe now. We 're close 
 at hand. Do come, do come ! " 
 
 " With all my heart," said Mr. Bolter, cheer- 
 fully. " What have you got here ? " 
 
 "That's a leveret," said Pharaoh, catching up the 
 basket. "They sell well in the streets to children, 
 mostly to little girls ; they like them to run about 
 their gardens. Only they soon die, they do ; 'cause 
 they don't get their natural food, and are hindered 
 of their natural habits. Besides, dogs and cats 
 worries them terrible. However, they fetch some- 
 times one shilling, sometimes two. And this 
 squirrel 's worth eighteenpence. Not a bad day's
 
 Brother and Sifter. 2,25 
 
 work, sir. See, he 's not a bit afraid of me. Oh, 
 he can bite, I believe you." 
 
 "Well, I suppose you've forgot all your 
 reading." 
 
 "Forgot it!" cried Pharaoh, stopping short, 
 and looking highly injured. "You don't mean 
 to say that ? Why, haven't I made every one of 
 'em Christians ? Even my old grandmother, that's 
 a hundred-and-orie ? " 
 
 Mr. Bolter looked at him in surprise. It 
 seemed too good news to be true. At any rate, 
 he feared the change could be only skin-deep. 
 
 Just then they came to a tidy-looking tent, 
 pitched, as gipsies' tents are pretty sure to be, in a 
 picturesque spot, on a patch of greensward, with 
 an old oak and a birch or two overhead, and a 
 brooklet of running water gleaming close at hand. 
 
 In this brook Zobel was washing a few clothes ; 
 while her husband, seated on the ground, was 
 dexterously making the slight baskets used by 
 fishmongers and poulterers. The aged woman, 
 whom some called "Pharaoh's daughter," and 
 
 L2
 
 226 Town and Fore/I. 
 
 others the " Queen of the Gipsies/' lay just within 
 the tent, on a pallet of straw, intently listening to 
 Mariam, who, with her sleeping child on one arm, 
 and her finger tracing each word she read in 
 Pharaoh's lesson-book, was slowly repeating 
 
 "Him that cometh unto me I will in no wise 
 cast out." 
 
 " Oh, blessed, blessed Jesus ! " exclaimed the old 
 woman, who did not see Mr. Bolter ; " I love his 
 very name ! " * 
 
 " Ah ! here comes our good gentleman ! " cried 
 Pharaoh's father, with pleasure and surprise ; and 
 all the family gathered round him to welcome him 
 except the old woman, who impatiently held out 
 her hand to him till he went up to her and took 
 it. After a few words of affectionate greeting 
 
 * " An old mother of the tribe was heard, not long 
 ago, to speak with delight, and to say of that Saviour 
 whom he (the missionary) so tenderly talked about, ' I 
 love His name!' She is on the verge of her hundredth 
 year, has more than a hundred descendants, and is a most 
 interesting character." City Mission Magazine, Jan. 1, 
 1858.
 
 Brother and Si/ler. 2,27 
 
 had been exchanged, the women took notice of 
 Mr. Bolter's altered looks, and he mentioned his 
 illness, which called forth expressions of interest 
 and sympathy. 
 
 "Ah, you nearly lost your life, then, for the 
 sake of poor perishing sinners ! " cried Zobel. 
 " What could man do more ? " 
 
 "You will have your reward," said the old 
 woman ; " a crown of glory. But you didn't do 
 it for that. No, no ! " 
 
 " Sir," said the elder Smith, " I can never thank 
 you enough for teaching my poor boy. All that 
 he knows he has taught us. If you will give me 
 leave, I will repeat to you the Lord's Prayer;" 
 which he did, very reverently, the others clasping 
 their hands. "And now, sir, if you will have 
 patience with me, I will read the first part in my 
 son's lesson-book." 
 
 Mr. Bolter was astonished at his progress. He 
 had produced his pocket Bible, and was holding 
 it in his hand. 
 
 "Ah," said Smith, who knew the look of it,
 
 Town and Forejl. 
 
 "I'm afraid I cannot yet read that book; but 
 yet I should like to try." 
 
 Mr. Bolter gave it him. He unfortunately 
 opened on the second chapter of Numbers, and, 
 of course, could make nothing of it. Mr. Bolter 
 opened the book for him at the first chapter of 
 St. John. He read several verses quite fluently ; 
 and exclaimed with delight 
 
 " Thank God ! I am beginning to be able to 
 read the Bible ! Oh, if I could read that blessed 
 book, I think there would be hope for me ! I 
 should then learn what I must do to be saved." * 
 
 He paused, and seemed full of thought. 
 
 " I am hindering you at your work," said Mr. 
 Bolter, softly. 
 
 " Oh, sir," said he, starting, " I never mind my 
 work, if I can only learn the right way." 
 
 " It is so simple," said Mr. Bolter, " that even 
 the wayfaring man need not err therein." 
 
 " Oh, sir, read, read to us ! read us the words 
 of eternal life!" 
 
 * Verbatim.
 
 Brother and Sifter. 229 
 
 Mr. Bolter read the 12th and 22nd chapters of 
 Genesis, commenting as he went along ; and from 
 the type, Isaac, directed their attention to the 
 antitype, the Son of God, dwelling feelingly on 
 his love to sinners, manifested in the great sacri- 
 fice he offered in himself for sin. Their attention 
 was riveted.* Zobel turned her head away and 
 was bathed in tears. Her husband brushed his 
 eyes with his coat-sleeve. Mr. Bolter concluded 
 with prayer, and all knelt around him except the 
 grandmother, who devoutly raised her hands and 
 eyes. 
 
 "See!" said Smith, after they had risen, and 
 pointing as he spoke to a pile of wood, "to-day 
 is Saturday. I remember what you said about 
 gathering sticks on the Sabbath, and you see I 
 have collected enough for two days." 
 
 Mr. Bolter was touched. Many months had 
 intervened since he spoke of it. 
 
 When he bade them farewell, they all expressed 
 
 * Verbatim.
 
 230 Town and Fore/I. 
 
 such regret at his going, that he promised he 
 would visit them and pray with them on the 
 following day. He left them, followed by their 
 blessings. Pharaoh, who was on his way to town, 
 to sell his squirrel and leveret, begged to accom- 
 pany him part of the way. It had already been 
 arranged that he was to resume his place in the 
 class at Hopkinsville, whither Mr. Bolter was 
 about to return to his duties on the following 
 Monday. 
 
 "Now then," said Pharaoh, wistfully, as soon 
 as they were alone together, "haven't I made 
 them Christians ? " 
 
 " Pharaoh, what you have done is wonderful ! 
 It has evidently had the blessing of God. My 
 good fellow, you must leave snaring leverets and 
 catching squirrels, and hunt men's souls! the 
 men of your own race. Our Lord came upon two 
 of his disciples when they were fishing, and told 
 them that if they would follow him, he would 
 make them fishers of men. In like manner, my 
 dear lad, he may, if he wills, make you an apostle
 
 Brother and Sifter. 2,31 
 
 to the gipsies, who may probably find far more 
 acceptance among them than any one not of their 
 own race. What say you? Will you leave all 
 and follow him ? " 
 
 "Master, what have I to leave but such as 
 these ?" said Pharaoh, holding out his leveret and 
 squirrel. " Certainly I will." And taking Mr. 
 Bolter's meaning literally, he instantly let his little 
 prisoners go free. Off they darted to their native 
 greenwood. 
 
 " You 're a capital fellow ! " cried Mr. Bolter, 
 laying his hand on his shoulder. 
 
 " no," said he, sighing, " I 'm only a poor 
 gipsy. And I'm afraid I didn't understand above 
 half of what you said just now. But, as to laying 
 down whatever I may have, to do as you bid me, 
 that I '11 do at any time ; and all you '11 teach me 
 I'll learn as well as I can, and teach again to 
 others ; and pray to God to make them learn with all 
 their heart with aU their might. Will that do?" 
 
 "Excellently." 
 
 Then Mr. Bolter explained to Pharaoh that, as
 
 2,32, Town and Fore/I. 
 
 he did not want to rob him of his only means of 
 subsistence, poor as he was, at any rate while lie 
 had nothing better to offer him in its stead, he by 
 no means wished to hinder him of gaining his 
 livelihood after his usual fashion, as long as it led 
 him to no dishonesty or injuring the property of 
 others. But, on the whole, he thought digging 
 up and selling primrose roots and violet roots 
 better than snaring leverets or squirrels ; and that 
 the more time he found he could give to his 
 schooling the better ; and who could say but that 
 eventually, if he sufficiently profited by his teach- 
 ing, he might become a paid teacher to his own 
 people, under the direction of the very Society 
 that paid Mr. Bolter ? 
 
 This was such a splendid prospect to Pharaoh, 
 that the sceptre of Egypt could scarcely have more 
 dazzled him. To be on anything approaching to a 
 level with Mr. Bolter, endued with the same know- 
 ledge, inspiring the same affectionate respect, exer- 
 cising the same powers of usefulness, to say nothing 
 of wearing the same gentlemanlike coat and hat,
 
 Brother and Sifter. 233 
 
 appeared, even in remote distance, so tempting an 
 incentive to well-doing, that his heart swelled as 
 he thought of it. 
 
 After walking some way in silence, " Blessed be 
 the hour," exclaimed he, "when I started out 
 upon you, and asked you to read me ' Selling off 
 under Prime Cost ! ' That was a famous Sunday 
 for me \" 
 
 " It was/' said Mr. Bolter. " We little know 
 what great consequences will result from seemingly 
 small causes. A poor woman, coming to draw 
 water, found the Lord Jesus sitting by the well, 
 and entered into conversation with him, till not 
 only he had convinced her that he was the Son of 
 God, but, at her persuasion, the men of her city 
 came out to hear him for themselves, and were 
 savingly converted, as well as herself. In like 
 manner may you be the instrument of eternal sal- 
 vation to many of your own people. And now, 
 God be with you ! My way is through this gate." 
 
 " God be with you, sir." 
 
 And he went on his way rejoicing.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 FOEESHADOWS. 
 
 " Lord, and what shall this man do ? " 
 Ask'st thou, Christian, for thy friend ? 
 
 If his love for Christ be true, 
 Christ hath told thee of his end ; 
 
 This is he whom God approves ; 
 
 This is he whom Jesus loves. 
 
 ~|\ /TE. BOLTEE returned to his work, invigo- 
 rated and refreshed. A heavy loss, how- 
 ever, awaited him his excellent and sympathising 
 superintendent, Dr. Grace, had been removed to a 
 new sphere of usefulness in one of the western 
 counties. Mr. Bolter's new superintendent was a
 
 Forejhadows. 2,35 
 
 layman Mr. Meyrick, a wealthy, influential, gifted, 
 and very excellent man, but one who could by no 
 means be the efficient support to him that he had 
 lost in Dr. Grace. Mr. Meyrick, when he came 
 to read Mr. Bolter's report, was very much as- 
 tonished to find that within some thousand yards 
 of his own warehouses might be found a row of 
 crazy cottages called Rabbit-hutch Row, which were 
 constantly under water, and over water too ; the 
 water rising through the planks from beneath, and 
 dripping through the miserable roofs above ; that 
 a few yards from this healthful and salubrious spot 
 a schoolhouse might be seen in nearly the same 
 plight, with the schoolmistress under an umbrella, 
 teaching a hundred children,* a few of whom were 
 fortunate enough to wear pattens. Furthermore, 
 he read that a stagnant ditch of the most odious 
 description skirted one side of this eligible semi- 
 nary, which, in order to reap the full benefit of 
 its effluvium, had an uuglazed window opening on 
 
 * Authentic.
 
 236 Town and Forejl. 
 
 it, only partially closed by a rickety shutter. Over 
 this ditch, a wooden bridge with a house upon it 
 was erected ; it seemed intended for a pleasure- 
 house in connection with an adjacent bowling- 
 green ; but the bowling-green had long ago come 
 to nothing, and this agreeable summer-house was 
 now actually the dwelling of some poor miserable 
 family that could find no better. 
 
 Furthermore, he read that, in rainy weather, the 
 state of the streets was such that Mr. Bolter 
 frequently stuck in the mud, and once lost his 
 shoe not mislaid it ; he never found it again. 
 
 Mr. Meyrick said all this was very horrid; it 
 ought to be remedied. He thought an undertaker 
 must have bought the place as an eligible invest- 
 ment. Mr. Bolter observed that the inhabitants 
 had not much to lay out in coffins. Mr. Meyrick 
 asked him what the place most wanted. He 
 replied drainage, lighting, and paving, and a good 
 supply of drinkable water ; also public baths and 
 wash-houses. 
 
 Mr. Meyrick, after some cogitation, determined
 
 Forejhadows. 237 
 
 on a very useful act of liberality. He would erect 
 a public fountain or pump ! 
 
 Mr. Bolter was delighted. It had been quite 
 a mockery, he observed, to persuade people to 
 give up spirituous drinks, when a cup of whole- 
 some water was not within their reach. 
 
 So the fountain was made, and the poor blessed 
 Mr. Meyrick. 
 
 Mr. Bolter had another thorn in his side, which 
 it was out of Mr. Meyrick's power to remove. A 
 new clergyman had been appointed to the parish 
 in which Hopkinsville was included, who was not 
 disposed to work comfortably in unison with the 
 city missionary. The Rev. Cyril De Vere was a 
 remarkably gentlemanlike young man, strikingly 
 handsome, an elegant scholar, very desirous of 
 doing good, but inexperienced and rather opiniated. 
 Once or twice, when he and Mr. Bolter happened 
 to meet, he treated him with marked coolness and 
 haughtiness; so that it was evident to the poor 
 people about them that the missionary had not the 
 minister's support. This was, to a certain extent,
 
 238 Town and Forejl. 
 
 injurious to Mr. Bolter, as well as very uncom- 
 fortable ; because Mr. De Vere really had so much 
 good in him, and was so zealous in doing his best 
 according to his own views, that he secured the 
 good word of a large body of parishioners, and his 
 disapproval of Mr. Bolter carried considerable 
 weight. However, as Mr. De Vere was conscious 
 he did not like Mr. Bolter, he became gradually im- 
 pressed with the conviction that Mr. Bolter could 
 not, and therefore did not, like him. This made 
 him very ready to listen to any tattle on the subject 
 that might reach him through evil-disposed per- 
 sons ; and as such persons are always to be found, 
 it at length came to pass that Mr. De Vere made 
 an open complaint to the Society that employed 
 Mr. Bolter, that the missionary had, in the course 
 of visitation, made remarks reflecting on him. 
 This Mr. Bolter wholly and positively denied. The 
 Society, however, expressed its readiness to listen 
 to any proof that could be adduced in support of 
 the charge, and a sub-committee was held for that 
 purpose, which Mr. De Vere and his witnesses at-
 
 Forejhadows. 239 
 
 cended. The charge could not be substantiated by 
 them, and it would have been gross injustice had the 
 Society withdrawn its support from Mr. Bolter on 
 such evidence. His conduct during the entire course 
 of his connection with them had so secured their 
 confidence, and his whole spirit and behaviour 
 during this trying examination was, to their minds, 
 so entirely that of an innocent man, and spoke so 
 favourably for his candour, integrity, and temper, 
 that they refused to dismiss him, and even ex- 
 pressed a strong encomium on his missionary 
 career. This was excessively annoying to Mr. De 
 Vere, who expressed himself very hotly about it 
 among his own friends, and ever after looked very 
 much vexed whenever Mr. Bolter's labours were 
 alluded to; applying to his principles the dis- 
 agreeable word " unsound." 
 
 Now, nothing in the world is easier than to 
 set about an opinion that a man's doctrine is 
 "unsound;" and nothing more difficult than to 
 refute it, except by living it down, which is a slow 
 process. In this instance, it was altogether a
 
 240 Town and Fore/I. 
 
 wanton, idle accusation; for Mr. De Yere knew 
 very little indeed of Mr. Bolter's principles or 
 practice, and would have thought himself very 
 hardly used, if any one had called him High 
 Church on as insufficient grounds as he called 
 Mr. Bolter Low Church, or no church. In that 
 lawless kind of way which we see and hear exam- 
 ples of every day and every hour, he set a mark 
 on this poor good man's shoulders which he 
 could not immediately get rid of, by calling him 
 " unsound." 
 
 One evening, Mr. Bolter was picking his way 
 towards the scene of his labours, when a thin, 
 anxious-looking little boy, about eleven years of 
 age, plucked him by the sleeve, and said, with 
 agitation, " Sir, I 've lived three weeks on begging, 
 and I'm hungering now; give me something to 
 save me from starving, or I'll go and steal ! "* 
 
 " Come in here," said Mr. Bolter ; and, turning 
 into a small eating-house, he gave the boy a small 
 
 * Authentic.
 
 Forejhadoivs . 241 
 
 basin of soup and a piece of bread. The boy ate 
 with avidity ; and when he had finished his meal, 
 he looked up at Mr. Bolter with a tear in his 
 eye, and timidly laid his hand upon his. They 
 left the shop together, and Mr. Bolter then 
 said 
 
 " You say you have begged three weeks : what 
 did you do before ? " 
 
 " Well, sir/' replied the boy, shuffling to keep 
 up with him, and looking him full in the face, 
 " I 'm an orphant, I am, and father died afore 
 I can remember; mother died, maybe, two year 
 ago. She did job-work, flannels for the tailors, 
 and such-like anything she could get. Some- 
 times she worked all night, for we was very bad 
 off we was so. At last she died, and the good 
 'oman as we lodged with, who had a mangle, says 
 to me : ' Now, my poor lad, you must shift for 
 yourself ; here J s an old basket and a few pence, 
 and you 'd better start in the muffin line/ Well, 
 I did so ; but it 's only a winter trade, is muffins. 
 Then I sold creeses, and then cherries, 'cording 
 
 M
 
 242 Town and Foreft. 
 
 to the season, sir, you know. Well, I drawed 
 up with a little chap called Tom; Tom had a 
 father an' mother, and I'd none; so they lets 
 me have half Tom's bed. Tom's father knew my 
 mother; he's a coalheaver, but sometimes he's 
 out o' work. He says sometimes, when he's very 
 much down with the rheumatics, that they must 
 all go into ' the house.' He 's very ill now, and 
 they're all pretty near starving, which makes 
 me not tell 'em I'm starving too. If you'll 
 believe me, sir, three weeks ago, a big boy 
 knocked me down, and ran away with my basket. 
 Oh ! wasn't it bad of him ? Since then I 've had 
 nothing I could do but beg. But I don't like 
 it, sir it sticks in my throat. Read, sir? Ay, 
 to be sure I should like to learn to read; but 
 who 'd teach me ? Tom would like to learn too. 
 You 'II teach me teach loth on us ? Lor' bless 
 you, sir ! Bless you for ever ! Sure we '11 come. 
 Yes, I '11 come with you now, sir, and see where 
 it is, and what it 's like ; that soup 's made a man 
 o' me. And if you'll trust me with a couple
 
 Forefhadows. 243 
 
 of shillings, sir, it '11 start me in trade again, and 
 I '11 repay you before the month is out/' 
 
 Surely it was the artless tale of some such little 
 outcast as this that made poor half-crazy Blake, 
 the artist, write his pathetic little poem of "The 
 Chimney Sweep : " 
 
 "When my mother died I was very young, 
 And my father sold me while yet my tongue 
 Could scarcely call out, ' 'Weep, 'weep, 'weep ; ' 
 So your chimneys I clean, and on soot I sleep. 
 
 "There's little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head, 
 That curled like a lamb's back, was shaved; so I said, 
 1 Hush, Tom ! never mind it, for when your head 's bare, 
 You know that the soot cannot spoil your light hair.' 
 
 "And so he was quiet; and that very night, 
 As Tom he was sleeping, be had such a sight ! 
 There, thousands of sweepers, Dick, Joe, Ned, and Jack, 
 Were all of them locked up in coffins of black. 
 
 " When down came an angel, who had a bright key, 
 And opened the coffins, and let them all free ; 
 Then, down the green vale, laughing, leaping, they run, 
 And wash in the river, and shine like the sun.
 
 244 Town and Forejl. 
 
 " Then, naked and white, all their bags left behind, 
 They rise up on pure clouds, and sport in the wind 
 And the angel told Tom, if he 'd be a good boy, 
 He'd have God for his father, and never want joy. 
 
 " And so Tommy awoke, and we rose in the dark, 
 And got with our bags and our brushes to work ; 
 Though the morning was cold, he was happy and warm, 
 So, if all do their duty, they need not fear harm." 
 
 Beader, will you hear another case ? These 
 stories are true. One afternoon, towards dusk, 
 a girl offered Mr. Bolter some flowers. There 
 was nothing importunate in her manner ; she 
 was very poor, but neat and modest. On his 
 questioning her as he walked away, she told him 
 her little history. She said : 
 
 " Mother has been dead just a year this month ; 
 she took cold at the washing, and it went to her 
 chest. She was only ill a fortnight. She took 
 on dreadful bad, for she knew she was going, and 
 she couldn't think what would become of me. 
 Minister, sir ? No ; no minister came a-near us, 
 nor gentleman, nor lady of any sort. Nobody
 
 Fore/hadows. 245 
 
 cared for us but our two selves. When she was 
 gone I hadn't a friend. A young woman as sold 
 flowers took pity on me, and said I might do the 
 same, and lodge where she did. And so I do : 
 the woman is poor, but quite respectable. And 
 she 's very kind to me, sir : she gives me a dinner 
 on Sundays. During the summer months I clear 
 sixpence a day. But I can only sell flowers five 
 days in the week Mondays there J s no flowers in 
 the market; and, of the sixpence a day, I pay 
 threepence for lodging. I get a halfpennyworth 
 of tea ; a halfpennyworth of sugar ; a pound of 
 bread, three-halfpence ; butter, a halfpenny. I 
 never tastes meat but on Sunday. "What I shall 
 do in the winter, when there are no flowers, I 
 don't know. I can't bear to think of it." 
 
 Mr. Bolter thought this was a case in which 
 Mrs. Truebury would be sure to interest herself. 
 Meanwhile he set Margaret to keep her eye upon 
 the girl. 
 
 A great contest between the powers of light 
 and darkness was now at hand ; one of those
 
 246 Town and For eft. 
 
 contests which, could we foresee them and com- 
 prehend their amazing consequences, would send 
 us to our knees to. wrestle with God in prayer, 
 night and day, till we obtained the promise of 
 victory. Things had hitherto gone passably well 
 in Hopkinsville ; nay, considering the immense 
 disproportion between the work there was to be 
 done, and the labourer who had to do it, the 
 progress was highly encouraging. Many were 
 under instruction ; many were reclaimed from 
 sinful courses, and leading more devout lives ; 
 many were drawn to Divine worship ; many heard 
 the word of God in their own dwellings; many 
 sick and dying persons were visited. This was 
 much; but it was chiefly among those poor re- 
 sident families who, as Mr. Bolter told Dr. 
 Grace, were really too physically weak to be 
 actively wicked. A large and most dangerous 
 class remained unapproached and seemingly un- 
 approachable ; a class of sturdy, stalwart labourers 
 in the docks and railways Irish, Welsh, north- 
 country men of immense physical force, with
 
 Forejhadows. 247 
 
 absolutely no characters to lose brawlers, 
 drunkards, blasphemers, wife - beaters, who, as 
 they more than once had told Mr. Bolter, would 
 as soon knock out his brains as look at him. 
 
 Of this class there had lately set in quite a 
 stream, that choked the small lodgings and 
 public-houses, and filled the district with clamour- 
 and disorder. Their head -quarters were at a 
 very disreputable place called the Rat's Hole, 
 which Mr. Bolter longed, yet feared, to ap- 
 proach. Here might be heard seditious orators 
 loudly applauded ; here drunken songs were 
 sung in uproarious chorus, and here many a 
 robbery was concerted. 
 
 At first these men knew nothing of Mr. 
 Bolter, and as he had not interfered with them, 
 they had no motive for interfering with him ; 
 but, little by little, they began to know some- 
 thing of him and to hate him. Strong members 
 of the corps were accosted and remonstrated 
 with; one or two of them were visited by him 
 when sick; others saw and heard him talking
 
 248 Town and Fore/I. 
 
 with their fellow -lodgers. He was dubbed a 
 blue light ; he was told his life was not worth 
 a farthing's purchase ; he was shown a bludgeon * 
 bought expressly to knock out his brains ; and 
 other agreeable things of the kind. 
 
 Mr. Bolter had so nAich courage that these 
 threats affected him very little ; but a great 
 burden was laid on his soul. The awful spi- 
 ritual condition of these desperadoes, their utter 
 impenetrability to the voice of reason or per- 
 suasion, their damaging influence on the morals 
 of the neighbourhood, weighed on him like 
 lead. His healthy red and brown complexion 
 had already, under the influence of Hopkins- 
 ville atmosphere, become sallow and sickly ; his 
 features were growing pinched, and a look of 
 deep anxiety in his hollow eyes made it painful 
 sometimes to meet their pathetic glance. Good- 
 natured Mr. Meyrick was much struck by it. 
 " Bolter," said he, " you ought to have addi- 
 tional aid." But Mr. Meyrick was not pre- 
 pared to undertake the entire support of an-
 
 Fore/hadotvs. 249 
 
 other missionary himself ; and, just then, the 
 Society was particularly oppressed by more ap- 
 . peals from various quarters than they could 
 possibly answer. Were there no well-to-do 
 shopkeepers, thriving men of business, men of 
 easy fortune, that might have raised the funds, 
 singly or together, with the utmost possible 
 ease ? Of course there were. There always 
 are. But as they did not come forward, and 
 chose to think their strength was to sit still, 
 Mr. Bolter expended his own little remaining 
 strength in continuing to go about single 
 handed. 
 
 John Miller had at length found out what to 
 say on the subject of marriage. He and Bessy 
 were engaged, and as happy as two fondly attached 
 people could be. But alas for their prospects ! 
 One fine summer day, Bessy had joined a gay 
 water party to Hampton Court. The afternoon 
 proved inveterately rainy ; the wearers of thin 
 muslins, bareges, and tarletans were drenched 
 to the skin, and had to sit so long in their wet 
 
 M 2
 
 250 Town and Fore/I. 
 
 clothes, that the wonder was, Bessy should be the 
 only victim. She caught a cold which settled 
 on her lungs, and went into a rapid and fatal 
 decline. 
 
 John now found, that instead of going to exhort 
 the dwellers in Hainault and Epping Forests, there 
 was home-missionary work for him to do. Bessy 
 had always been a pleasing, well-conducted girl, 
 but she had never been a serious thinker; and 
 now that eternity stared her in the face, she was 
 wretched and desponding at the thought of death. 
 John was quite appalled at the vehemence with 
 which she clung to the things of this life ; he was 
 greatly exercised in spirit ; he besought God, with 
 groanings that could not be uttered, to change 
 her heart by the influence of his Holy Spirit, and 
 give her a living interest in the things belonging 
 to her eternal peace. His prayer was heard ; he 
 was permitted to be the privileged instrument 
 of this young girl's salvation; and perhaps no 
 minister or missionary of the profoundest experi- 
 ence could have led her faltering steps along the
 
 Forejhadows. 25 1 
 
 heavenward path with more success than he was 
 enabled to do under the powerful impulses of 
 human and divine affection. 
 
 At length she died. Such peace, such sweet- 
 ness attended her closing scene, that though John 
 and Ellen wept, it could hardly be said they 
 lamented. 
 
 Dear as thou wert, and justly dear, 
 
 We should not weep for thee; 
 One thought shall check the starting tear 
 
 It is, that thou art free. 
 And thus shall faith's consoling power 
 
 The tears of love restrain. 
 Oh, who that saw thy parting hour, 
 
 Could wish thee here again ? 
 Gently the passing spirit fled, 
 
 Sustained by love divine : 
 O may such grace on me be shed, 
 
 And may such end be mine !* 
 
 Some of us have seen a large silken bag, in- 
 flated with highly rarefied air, only prevented 
 by a cord from soaring upward to the skies. 
 
 * The Eev. T. Dale.
 
 252, Town and Fore/I. 
 
 That cord, in John's case, was now severed, and 
 his soul sprang up to its own element. He did 
 not immediately abandon his clerkship, but he 
 devoted every spare minute to the studies befitting 
 the course he meant to pursue, with such earnest- 
 ness that his progress was thrice as rapid as it 
 would have been under ordinary circumstances. 
 His mind was wholly given to serve the Lord.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 SHADOWS. 
 
 Whether in his lonely course, 
 
 Lonely, not forlorn, he stray, 
 Or, with Love's supporting force, 
 
 Cheat the toil and cheer the way, 
 Leave it all to His high hand, 
 Who doth hearts as streams command. 
 
 Gales from heaven, if so He will, 
 
 Sweeter melodies can wake, 
 On the lofty mountain rill, 
 
 Than the meeting waters make : 
 Who hath the Father and the Son, 
 May be left, but not alone. 
 
 KEBLE. 
 
 r I ^ HE woman who lost her piece of silver, swept 
 
 her house out diligently, regardless of the 
 
 dust she raised, until she found it. "It is not un-
 
 254 Town and For eft. 
 
 usual/' says Mackenzie,* " to find a good deal of 
 confusion and tumult when there is any great work 
 going on in religion. Satan likes nothing so well 
 as to let things settle down in darkness and quiet. 
 But when Christ is seeking out his people in good 
 earnest, we must not expect it all to be smooth 
 work. How many afflictions are sent, like storm 
 blasts, sweeping through the soul, to waken us up 
 to see our danger and seek our safety ! " 
 
 Such storm blasts were, even now, beginning to 
 blow up the moral dust in Hopkinsville. One 
 evening, Mr. Bolter, stumbling on his old ac- 
 quaintance, A 1, mentioned to that excellent 
 official the state of affairs in the Hat's Hole, and 
 observed what a good thing it would be if the 
 publican could be deprived of his license. A 1 
 thought that, considering the offences committed, 
 the prospect of doing so was highly promising, and 
 engaged to see to it. Meanwhile, Mr. Bolter was 
 going to try what he could do in an amicable way, 
 
 * " Redeeming Love."
 
 Shadows. 255 
 
 by entering the Rat' s Hole with several numbers 
 of the " British Workman/' and offering them to 
 the customers there. 
 
 Accordingly, he made his way thither, guided 
 along the otherwise dark street by a flaming oil 
 lamp in the entrance. He went upstairs, where 
 he heard a great stamping of feet, and other tokens 
 of applause, and entered a room, stifling hot, where 
 many men were drinking. A popular song having 
 just been concluded, there was a lull, which he 
 took advantage of, by going round the table and 
 laying a "British Workman " before each man, 
 saying, " Would you like to have this ? " 
 
 "I hope you're going to give us a piece of 
 money with it," * said the first. 
 
 " I don't approve of this paper," said another. 
 
 " And I don't approve of methodistical spies," 
 said a third. " This fellow, whatever he may call 
 himself, is nothing more nor less than a spy." 
 
 "Then out of window shall he go," said 
 another, rising up. 
 
 * Verbatim.
 
 256 Town and For eft. 
 
 " Softly, softly, my good sir/' said Mr. Bolter, 
 composedly. " This house is common to us all. 
 The owner may turn me out of it if he chooses ; 
 but you and I are here on the same terms/' 
 
 " No, we 're not/' said the other, getting nearer 
 to him, "and I'll tell you why. We call for 
 liquor and pay for it; you do neither one nor 
 the other. Therefore it's plain you're nothing 
 better than a spy." 
 
 " You may think so, but you 've not proved it," 
 said Mr. Bolter ; " you might just as well say, ' We 
 call for liquor and pay for it ; you do neither, and 
 therefore you 're a hippopotamus." 
 
 This unexpected sally made some of them laugh, 
 and the assailant for a moment had not a word to 
 say for himself. 
 
 " Ah, my dear man," said Mr. Bolter coolly, 
 "it's plain you've not studied logic, or you never 
 would have used such an argument as that ! Why, 
 you might drive a Lord Mayor's coach through it." 
 
 This made them laugh again, and one of them 
 offered Mr. Bolter something to drink. Though
 
 Shadows. 25 7 
 
 he did not accept it, he immediately availed himself 
 of the opening that was made for him by his ally 
 on the bench, and sat down beside him. His 
 antagonist, however, was very surly, and, resuming 
 his seat, he said 
 
 "Logic here or logic there, I'll bet you six- 
 pence that you are what I say." 
 
 "And I'll present you with sixpence," said Mr. 
 Bolter, " if you can tell me what logic is. But 
 come, don't let us be uncomfortable together. As 
 I came over Westminster Bridge the other night, 
 in a pouring rain, there was a stoppage. You 
 never saw such a complete wedge. There were 
 flies, vans, carts, wagons, omnibuses, ladies going 
 out to parties in close carriages, all jammed up 
 together. The policemen were popping in and 
 out among the horses' heads, but for a while could 
 make nothing of it. You may fancy the con- 
 fusion. After a time some of the drivers, who did 
 not possess the sweetest of tempers, began loudly 
 to grumble. Much good that did, of course. 
 However, they were getting more and more out of
 
 258 Town and Foreft. 
 
 patience, when all at once a cheerful voice cried 
 out, ' What 's the odds, when we 're all so com- 
 fortable together ? ' Of course there was a general 
 laugh ; and the next minute, as if by magic, the 
 foremost vehicles began to move onwards, the 
 others followed in due course, and, in a few 
 moments, all obstacles had dispersed, and every one 
 was jogging along his own way." 
 
 This little anecdote was told so pleasantly and 
 naturally, that friendly looks greeted the speaker 
 from sundry quarters; and he then proceeded 
 to say, "I have not come in to stay; I merely 
 wished to offer you these papers for the chance 
 of their being acceptable to you, and in the 
 event of their proving otherwise, I shall speedily 
 withdraw them and myself. Give me leave, 
 however, if it is not disagreeable to you, to 
 point out to your attention one or two anec- 
 dotes in this number, which happens to be a 
 remarkably good one, or, if you prefer it, I 
 will read them to you myself, though it is 
 getting rather late."
 
 Shadoivs. 2,59 
 
 " Read away by all means," said two or 
 three, though the warlike gentleman exclaimed, 
 " I objects to this here style of thing," and 
 began to thump the table with his pewter can. 
 His next neighbour, however, gave him a shove, 
 and roughly muttered, " Be quiet, then, will 
 ye?" on which the other looked daggers. Mr. 
 Bolter, whose object now became a successful 
 and early retreat, proceeded without delay to 
 read one or two rather lively anecdotes with all 
 the spirit he possessed; and then, starting up, 
 he said, "Well, I must be off. If I should 
 ever come this way again, I may perhaps look 
 in on you earlier; but, at present, I will merely 
 leave these papers with you; and if any of you 
 should be pleased with them, and wish to see 
 any more, you can tell me so next time. Good 
 night." 
 
 And off he went with flying colours, though 
 his argumentative opponent hinted to him as he 
 passed, that he should let fly at his head some 
 night when he was least expecting it.
 
 2,60 Town and For eft. 
 
 Mr. Bolter, having proceeded beyond the 
 beams of the friendly lamp, was cautiously 
 wading through the mire, when he heard some 
 one in the pitchy darkness before him distress- 
 fully call out, " Hoy ! hoy ! Help ! help \" 
 
 Mr. Bolter ran forward towards the voice ; 
 and, in so doing, suddenly found himself almost 
 up to the knees in soft mud. 
 
 " Where are you, and what 's the matter ? " 
 cried he. 
 
 " Here I am, almost imbedded in mud/' re- 
 plied the other, "and afraid to move a step, 
 lest I should plunge farther into it." 
 
 The voice was gentlemanlike, but helpless. 
 " Give me your hand," said Mr. Bolter ; ' ' I 
 know the bearings hereabouts, perhaps rather 
 better than you do, though I am somewhat out 
 of my soundings." 
 
 " Thank you, thank you," cried the other, 
 eagerly grasping the proffered hand. " Surely 
 never was man in such a pickle ! " 
 
 The thought of robbery and murder had oc-
 
 Shadows. 261 
 
 curred to Mr. Bolter, but only to be instantly 
 rejected ; there was a genuine ring in the cheer- 
 ful laugh which proclaimed the stranger no 
 counterfeit. 
 
 " Where do you want to go ? " said Mr. 
 Bolter. 
 
 "Anywhere, out of this mess," said his com- 
 panion. " Home, I think. I 've had enough 
 of this part of Hopkinsville for a while, though 
 I was intending to get to the Rat's Hole \" 
 
 "The Rat's Hole, sir!" exclaimed Mr. Bolter. 
 " Ah, I would not advise you to go there ! 
 You '11 get no good there, I can assure you." 
 
 "That depends upon my object," replied the 
 other. " How do you know so much about 
 it?" 
 
 " Because I have just been there." 
 
 " "Well, if it suited you, might it not suit 
 me?" 
 
 "Ah, sir, all places must suit the poor city 
 missionary." 
 
 " Ha !" said the other, and paused. " So
 
 2,62, Town and For eft. 
 
 that 's what you are," resumed he presently. 
 "I was wondering to what class you could be- 
 long. I set you down for the doctor." 
 
 " A doctor of souls, sir." 
 
 "A quack-doctor, I'm afraid, Mr. Missionary, 
 eh ? You haven't taken out your diploma ! " 
 
 " Well, sir, that 's a handsome return of yours 
 for my picking you out of the mud." 
 
 His companion laughed, perhaps with a little 
 shame, and then said, 
 
 "Well, what were they doing at the Bat's 
 Hole ? I have heard so much of that place, 
 that I have been curious to see it." 
 
 "That was precisely my own case, sir; so I 
 took a handful of the 'British Workman' with 
 me, and walked in." 
 
 " But was it not dangerous ? Were you not 
 afraid?" 
 
 " It was dangerous ; but I was not afraid." 
 
 " You were bold " 
 
 " Oh, sir, my Master stood by me." 
 
 "Your master. 1 "'
 
 Shadows. 263 
 
 "Your Master and mine, sir our Lord Jesus 
 Christ." 
 
 "Do you know who I am?" said the other 
 quickly. 
 
 "Not in the least; but He is your Master, 
 whatever kind of servant to Him you may be." 
 
 " Certainly, certainly ! I had not thought 
 
 Well, Mr. Bolter, tell me how you got on." 
 
 "You know me then, sir, it seems," said Mr. 
 Bolter, smiling. 'Well, when I got in, a man 
 offered to throw me out of window." 
 
 "Bather an awkward beginning! What did 
 you do ? " 
 
 "What should you have done?" 
 
 "Well, I confess I am not quite prepared 
 to say." 
 
 " You must not take much time, sir, to prepare 
 what you have to say, or to do either, if you 
 venture into the Bafs Hole. I told the man 
 I had as much right to be in the house as he 
 had; we were on equal terms. He denied it, 
 and said he and his companions called for liquor
 
 264 Town and For eft. 
 
 and paid for it, which I did not, and therefore 
 I was a spy." 
 
 "That was a non sequitnr. He should have 
 said, and therefore you were not on equal terms." 
 
 " Just so ; but he was no logician, and I told 
 him so. He betted me sixpence I was a spy, and 
 I offered him sixpence if he could tell me what 
 logic was. By degrees I made my way sufficiently 
 to be offered a seat at their table, I told them 
 a story, read them one or two anecdotes from 
 the 'British Workman/ and then made good 
 my retreat while I could do so with safety, making 
 a half-promise to look in on them on some future 
 occasion." 
 
 "You did more than I could have done, I 
 am afraid," said the other, after a short silence. 
 
 "Why do you say you are afraid, sir?" 
 
 "I am afraid I could not have done as much 
 as you did," said his companion. 
 
 "Ay, that's an amendment," said Mr. Bolter, 
 laughing. "No, I do not suppose you could. 
 These places and people, sir, are only fit for the
 
 Shadows. 265 
 
 missionary. He acts as pioneer for more civilised 
 labourers. There is a young gentleman, eminent, 
 I understand, for scholarship and zeal, at the 
 head of this parish, which is twice too large for 
 any man, but how could he make his way in such 
 a den as the Bat's Hole ? The very first sight of 
 his fine linen and fine person, carriage, and 
 address, would set them against him. They 
 would tell him as I was told to-night " 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " That they would let fly at his head the first 
 opportunity, when he was least expecting it." 
 
 At this instant Mr. Bolter received a blow on 
 the head from a bludgeon, which felled him to 
 the ground. The next moment a couple of well- 
 directed blows from the doubled fists of his com- 
 panion levelled his foe to the mud, though he 
 was immediately on his feet and running off as 
 fast as he could. 
 
 "What cheer, Mr. Bolter?" cried his cham- 
 pion excitedly. "You're not seriously injured, 
 I hope ? Lean on me, my good sir." 
 
 N
 
 266 Town and Foreft. 
 
 And raising him vigorously from the ground, 
 he dragged the bewildered Mr. Bolter into a small 
 shop hard by, in the miserable window of which 
 gleamed a light. 
 
 "Mr. De Vere \" exclaimed Mr. Bolter amazedly, 
 as the rays of the tallow candle fell upon his 
 face. 
 
 "The same," replied Mr. De Yere, shaking 
 him vehemently by the hand. "How are you? 
 How do you feel yourself? My dear Mr. 
 Bolter, that blow might have felled an ox. It 
 was a providence that your valuable life was 
 spared \" 
 
 " A providence ! my valuable life ! " repeated 
 Mr. Bolter, looking very much gratified. " I can 
 assure you, sir, this kindness of expression and 
 of action repays me a dozen times for the rap on 
 my head." 
 
 "You are a capital fellow, and that's the 
 fact," said Mr. De Yere very cordially. "So 
 now, since you don't seem materially hurt, let 
 us get out of this detestable locality as soon as
 
 Shadows. 267 
 
 we can. Give me your arm you are not quite 
 steady yet." 
 
 And off they went as lovingly as Orestes and 
 Pylades, Damon and Pythias, Castor and Pollux, 
 or any other gentlemen whose names always run 
 in couples on account of their affection and 
 fidelity. The generous Mr. De Yere had entirely 
 forgotten that his companion was not quite sound, 
 and, with the ardour of youth, was anxious to 
 atone by his cordiality for all his past misappre- 
 hension and coldness. On reaching the precincts 
 of gas-lighted, civilised society, they parted with 
 a warm hand-shaking, the best of friends. 
 
 Ah ! well wrote wise John Foster : ' ' The little, 
 nominal, specific distinctions of sects cannot be 
 got rid of while there is so little of vital religion 
 in the world : because that is so shallow, these 
 inconsiderable points stand prominent above the 
 surface, and occasion obstruction and mischief. 
 When the powerful spring-tide of piety and mind 
 shall rise, these points will be swallowed up and 
 disappear."
 
 268 Town and Fore/I. 
 
 John and Ellen were amazingly delighted with 
 Mr. Bolter's relation of his rencontre with Mr. 
 De Yere. In the first instance, however, they 
 were greatly alarmed at their friend's appearance. 
 Not only was he plastered with mud from head 
 to foot, but his hair was matted with congealed 
 blood from the blow he had received, and was 
 excessively tender to the touch, so that when 
 Ellen skilfully cut off the hair round the con- 
 tusion, and with light hand bathed the wound, 
 he could not help wincing and crying out. More- 
 over, as he had fallen on his face, it was scored 
 and scratched in a distressing manner, and many 
 minute particles of gravel and sand were embedded 
 in the skin. He had to undergo a very tedious 
 and severe discipline from the hands of Ellen, 
 before she could at all satisfy herself that she had 
 done her duty by him as a sister of charity ; and 
 when he at length was court-plastered and bandaged 
 to her entire satisfaction, he was sensible of a 
 violent headache, great lassitude, and pains in 
 his limbs, which his fall and bad usage seemed
 
 Shadows. 269 
 
 fully to account for. The remedies proposed by 
 his kind nurses were a hot foot-bath, a basin of 
 gruel, and a warm bed, to none of which he 
 made any objection; but as John proposed pre- 
 paring the bath for him by the fire after Ellen 
 had gone to bed, and Ellen had to make the 
 gruel in the first instance, Mr. Bolter had no 
 resource but to sit by the fire while the said gruel 
 was making. And then it was that, in spite 
 of his throbbing head, he took occasion to give 
 his companions full particulars of his visit to 
 the Rafs Hole, and his encounter with Mr. De 
 Vere. 
 
 "It really was quite providential \" exclaimed 
 Ellen, as she placed the gruel before him, and 
 then proceeded to fill the warming-pan. "First 
 you make an enemy of a desperate ruffian ; then 
 you convert a gentleman who was your enemy 
 into a friend by an opportune kindness; then, 
 when the ruffian assails you, your new friend 
 protects you and saves your life. Depend on 
 it, there will be great results from all this ! "
 
 270 Town and For eft. 
 
 And off she went with the warming-pan. 
 
 "John," said Mr. Bolter, after a pause, "I 
 should so like to have you for my co-labourer in 
 Hopkinsville ! We could carry everything before 
 us." 
 
 " Ah ! no," said John, shaking his head ; " I 'm 
 not equal to that. You can undertake the Town, 
 but I can only undertake the Forest."
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE HOUR BEFORE DAWN. 
 
 Our life 
 
 Is what we do, and not the space we live. 
 
 J. E. JACKSON. Cedl and Mary. 
 
 forest, unknown to John, was already 
 undertaken. A missionary was appointed 
 to the gipsies, and this missionary, who was a 
 Baptist, found Pharaoh's family apparently so 
 savingly converted, that he was ready to exclaim : 
 " Behold, here is water what doth hinder these 
 to be baptized ? " 
 
 Deeming it expedient to make some preparatory
 
 272 Town and For eft. 
 
 inquiries of Mr. Bolter as to his experience of 
 their sincerity, this missionary, Mr. Rivers, 
 called at the Millers' the day after the attack in 
 Hopkinsville. He found Ellen sewing behind 
 the counter; she said Mr. Bolter was in bed, 
 being in severe pain in consequence of a blow 
 he had received the previous night. Mr. Rivers 
 was concerned : did she think he was equal to 
 seeing a brother missionary ? If the indisposition 
 were not serious, perhaps it would be no great 
 inconvenience to him to answer a question or two 
 of some importance; if he were seriously ill, a 
 word in season from a fellow-Christian might not 
 be unacceptable. 
 
 Ellen went up and tapped at Mr. Bolter's door, 
 and delivered Mr. Rivers' message. Mr. Bolter 
 answered very feverishly, that he might come up 
 if he liked ; so Mr. Rivers availed himself of the 
 summons. 
 
 Ellen had scarcely resumed her needle when 
 a very handsome, gentlemanlike man, decidedly 
 clerical in appearance, entered, and inquired
 
 The Hour Before Dawn. 273 
 
 whether Mr. Bolter lodged there. Ellen said he 
 did. Was he at home? Yes; confined to his 
 bed by injuries he had received a brother 
 missionary was now with him. The clergyman 
 looked much concerned; he said he had feared 
 Mr. Bolter might be suffering from the savage 
 attack made on him, which was the reason of his 
 calling to ask how he was. 
 
 " Oh, then/' said Ellen with mantling colour, 
 " I dare say, sir, you are Mr. De Vere." 
 
 "I am," said he; "but what made you guess it?" 
 
 "Mr. Bolter told us, sir, how bravely you 
 defended him. He was warm in your praise, 
 and feels your kindness very gratefully." 
 
 Mr. De Vere looked pleased, desired his 
 very friendly remembrances to be conveyed to 
 him, and hoped he would soon be restored to his 
 course of usefulness, and went away. How 
 pleasing an impression he created by those few 
 kind words ! 
 
 Next, Margaret came in. She wanted to see 
 Mr. Bolter ; but, when she heard of his being ill
 
 274 Town and Foreft. 
 
 in bed, she remained talking with Ellen, who 
 related to her what had passed the night before. 
 Margaret's eye glistened with a tear : she said he 
 ought to be more careful of himself he did not 
 know how valuable his life was. 
 
 Ellen began to wonder Mr. Rivers did not 
 come downstairs: a pause ensuing, they could 
 hear Mr. Eivers praying. Then Mr. Bolter's 
 door opened and shut; Mr. Rivers came down- 
 stairs and re-entered the shop, looking very serious. 
 
 "My good brother is very ill/' said he; "you 
 may think it only from the effects of the blow, 
 but I am of a different opinion. I have had 
 some experience, and I am pretty sure that he is 
 about to be laid aside by typhus fever, and of a 
 malignant character." 
 
 Ellen uttered a faint cry. 
 
 "If you are afraid of yourself," said Mr. 
 Eivers, looking at her with some severity, 
 "you had better secure your own safety by 
 going elsewhere, and find some other person to 
 nurse him."
 
 The Hour Before Dawn. 275 
 
 " I will be that person," said Margaret, with 
 quiet decision. 
 
 " Or, if you are afraid of his remaining in your 
 house, no time must be lost in removing him to a 
 fever hospital." 
 
 "0 no, sir," said Ellen, recovering herself, 
 though the tears rolled down her cheeks; "you 
 quite mistake in supposing me to be a mere 
 selfish letter of lodgings. Mr. Bolter is the 
 dearest friend we have ; and my alarm was for 
 him, not for myself. We cannot think of having 
 him removed, and we will nurse him as if he 
 were our own brother. We have done so 
 before." 
 
 " In that case," said Mr. Bivers, very kindly, 
 " I greatly regret having said what I did, and my 
 caution for you must be quite the other way. 
 Pray do not, in your humane zeal, run any 
 unnecessary risks. Take all salutary precautions. 
 You should have advice at once." 
 
 " I will go for the doctor directly," said Ellen, 
 tying on her bonnet with trembling hands. She
 
 276 Town and Fore/I. 
 
 sped on her errand; and when she returned, 
 she found Margaret already established in Mr. 
 Bolter's room, where she would only speak to 
 Ellen at the door, begging her in earnest 
 whispers to keep out of infection as much as 
 possible. 
 
 Ellen shed tears, but went downstairs. "With 
 the utmost desire to be a good nurse, she was 
 conscious of having had very little experience ; 
 and Margaret seemed to have such quiet self- 
 reliance, and to know so perfectly what ought to 
 be done and how to do it, that Ellen thought it 
 best to take the second place at once, and act as 
 her adjutant. Margaret suggested chloride of 
 lime as a disinfectant, and tamarind-water as a 
 cooling drink. Ellen obtained and prepared the 
 latter at once; and just as she had made it, 
 Mr. Case, the doctor, came in. 
 
 She followed him upstairs, and stood outside 
 the half-open door, while he went in : she heard 
 him ask Mr. Bolter whether his throat were 
 sore, his eyes heavy and unable to bear the light,
 
 The Hour Before Dawn. 277 
 
 his head aching, his mouth parched, his limbs full 
 of pain to all which Mr. Bolter, in a thick 
 hurried voice, answered in the affirmative. Ellen 
 judged, from the tone and look of the doctor, that 
 he did not think favourably of his patient : he 
 came out on the landing, and told Margaret, who 
 followed him, that if purple spots should appear 
 on the skin, accompanied by much prostration of 
 strength, he must have wine, in such and such 
 quantities. Margaret listened to him as an oracle. 
 Then Ellen led Mr. Case out, and timidly asked 
 him, as she opened the door, whether he 
 thought Mr. Bolter in much danger. "I can- 
 not say I think very well of him," was his 
 depressing reply. 
 
 Wine ! where was it to be had ? Mrs. Meeke 
 would surely give her some. Ellen was now 
 truly thankful that Margaret was in the house, 
 to take charge of the sick man while she ran off 
 to Mrs. Meeke's. Much concern was expressed by 
 Mrs. Meeke for Mr. Bolter's iUness : she gave 
 Ellen a bottle of wine, and told her she might
 
 2,78 Town and For eft. 
 
 have as much more as was wanted or anything 
 else bed-linen any thing. 
 
 It was getting dusk Ellen remembered John 
 would soon come in, expecting his tea, and the 
 fire was quite low ! She was blowing it with 
 the bellows when he came in, looking sur- 
 prised to see nothing ready. When she told 
 him the sad news it quite stunned him. But 
 he soon rallied, and reminded Ellen that Mr. 
 Bolter had had a fever once before, yet he had 
 got over it, and so he doubtless would this time, 
 though of course it was very hard to bear, and 
 must create great anxiety. Ellen tried to take 
 this cheerful view of the case ; and she told him 
 of Mr. De Vere's kind visit, and of Mr. Rivers 
 praying with Mr. Bolter and sitting with him 
 so long. All this pleased John ; and he went 
 up to see his friend, disposed to view his illness 
 in a very hopeful light. 
 
 Ellen poured out Margaret's tea, and took it 
 up to her, telling John at the same time that 
 his was ready. He was so long coming down,
 
 The Hour Before Dawn. 2,79 
 
 that she set the little teapot on the hob, fearful 
 that it would be quite chilled. When, at length, 
 he joined her, he looked much sadder than when 
 he went up he could not eat a morsel, and 
 with difficulty restrained his tears. 
 
 Margaret went home about ten o'clock, because 
 she knew the old woman who lived with her 
 would be uneasy at her absence ; but she pro- 
 mised to return the next day, and sit up the 
 following night. Meantime John sat up, and a 
 heavy night he found it. He had never sat up 
 with a sick person a whole night through before, 
 and had had no idea how long and dreary the 
 hours were after midnight, nor what a chilly 
 feeling preceded the dawn. From that night he 
 read, with a new sense of its deep meaning, 
 that verse in the Psalm which says, "My soul 
 watcheth for Thee more than they that watch 
 for the morning ! " 
 
 Mr. Bolter, towards nightfall, talked, or rather 
 babbled, incessantly. His utterance was so short 
 and quick that it was difficult to understand a
 
 280 Town and For eft. 
 
 word he said, and there was no connection in it. 
 Once he exclaimed, "Oh, poor Hopkinsville ! " 
 and, opening his burning eyes, fixed them pite- 
 ously on John, adding, " Won't you ? won't 
 you ? " and then closed them again. 
 
 John knew very well what he meant; and the 
 appeal was almost more than he could stand. He 
 sat sorrowfully by his friend's bedside, looking 
 at his altered face, and thinking to himself that 
 what Mr. Bolter had done Tie ought not to mind 
 doing, and that he must be a very great sinner 
 to hold back from doing any one thing that God 
 required of him. 
 
 At daybreak there was poor Ellen, with her 
 pale, anxious face, beckoning John to the door, 
 and begging him to let her take his place while 
 he went downstairs, where he would find hot 
 coffee, and then took a couple of hours' rest 
 before he went to business. John was so tired 
 and sleepy that he complied, without a thought 
 of the danger she was incurring ; and Ellen stole 
 in and sat where she could dimly see Mr. Bolter's
 
 The Hour Before Dawn. 281 
 
 unconscious face, herself unseen. She prayed for 
 him, she prayed for herself, she prayed for John, 
 and then she prayed for Mr. Bolter again. 
 
 About eight o'clock Margaret quietly entered, 
 with a soup plate in her hand, containing chloride 
 of lime and water, in the proportion of forty parts 
 of water to one of chloride of lime. She placed 
 this on a table to the leeward side of Mr. Bolter, 
 where it was not likely to upset, and where it 
 was exposed to the action of the air. Margaret 
 had learnt, during her stay in the fever hospital, 
 that free ventilation is one of the securest safe- 
 guards in infectious complaints; and that infec- 
 tion, communicated through the air, rarely extends 
 above a few feet from the body of the patient. 
 Still, she was continually within the fatal circle 
 herself; but she had no personal fears, and was 
 chiefly anxious that no harm should befall Ellen. 
 
 John, affectionate brother though he was, had 
 been too weary and pre-occupied to think of Ellen's 
 danger ; yet, on his way to the brewery, it struck 
 him that he might not be altogether a safe com-
 
 282 Town and Forejl. 
 
 panion to his fellow-clerks, and that he had better 
 refer the question to his employer. This gentle- 
 man did not wish to incur the risk of having 
 typhus fever in his brewery, and consequently 
 John got his conge d'elire, which he did not at 
 all mind, as it gave him the opportunity of 
 returning to nurse Mr. Bolter. 
 
 The disease was progressing now; Mr. Bolter 
 no longer babbled, his throat was too much 
 swollen for him to speak, he could scarcely 
 swallow. A deep gloom hung over the house; 
 neighbours looked on it with awe, and fearfully 
 communicated to one another the answers to 
 their inquiries in the shop, or dilated on their 
 own experiences and forebodings, "There is a 
 crying for wine in the streets," says Isaiah. 
 " They shall not drink wine with a song ; strong 
 wine shall be bitter to them that drink it." 
 Surely this referred to some pending visitation, 
 like that of cholera or typhus fever, when wine 
 is sought for absolutely medicinal purposes, 
 wholly opposite to those of conviviality. Thus
 
 The Hour Before Dawn. 2,83 
 
 with Mr. Bolter, when Margaret put a teaspoon- 
 ful of port wine into his mouth every five minutes 
 by the watch, without its raising his pulse. 
 
 Had Mrs. Truebury known of the state in 
 which he lay, the choicest wines, the costliest 
 hothouse fruits, the finest linen, would have 
 been at the disposal of the poor missionary. As 
 it was, his case was only known to a handful 
 of humble people in the obscure walks of life, 
 who risked their lives for him, and besieged 
 heaven with their intercessory prayers. 
 
 He did not burn with fever now; his tongue 
 was no longer crimson-red and parched ; his 
 cheek no longer carmine. He opened his languid 
 eyes, and in a hushed voice, that no ear less 
 attent than Margaret's could have heard, said 
 
 "Where are my friends?" 
 
 Awe-stricken, she summoned Ellen and John. 
 "There is a great change in him/' whispered 
 she, with tearful eyes. 
 
 They stole softly in, and stood beside his bed. 
 
 "Dear Ellen/' said he, tenderly (he had never
 
 284 Town and For eft. 
 
 called her so before), "is that your gayest face 
 on my best day? I am in my Master's chariot, 
 and oh ! how easy it is \" 
 
 She could only answer him with her tears. 
 
 "John! John!" His voice was almost inau- 
 dible. John bent his head close to his mouth. 
 
 "Tell Dr. Grace . . . ." 
 
 John listened in vain. Mr. Bolter closed his 
 eyes. After a time he opened them, looked at 
 John wistfully, and heaved a deep sigh. It went 
 straight to John's heart. 
 
 "I will, I will!" said he, falling beside him 
 on his knees. " I will supply your place, as far 
 as I can, to Hopkinsville \" 
 
 It was difficult to say whether a smile nickered 
 on Mr. Bolter's lips or not. John sobbed, and 
 buried his face in the bedclothes. 
 
 " Hush," whispered Margaret anxiously, and 
 drawing him away by the arm, "if you agitate 
 him all is lost." 
 
 Mr. Bolter was past being agitated ; his thoughts 
 were in the spirit-land ; but John, putting a strong
 
 The Hour Before Dawn. 285 
 
 constraint on himself, mastered his grief, and, 
 rising from the bedside, joined his sister as she 
 stood comfortlessly over the handful of fire. A 
 pause ensued ; Mr. Bolter lying quite quiet with 
 closed eyes. 
 
 All at once he electrified them by sitting up 
 in bed, and crying, " Help ! help ! help ! " in an 
 agonising voice, his arms thrown upwards, though 
 the next instant he sank back on his pillow. 
 
 " What is it ? What is the matter, dear sir ?" 
 cried they, gathering round him. 
 
 " Help ! help ! " cried he again, looking wildly 
 round. " Come over and help us ! Men ! men of 
 England, where are you ? Where are you, I say ? 
 Here is work to be done, at the very highest wages, 
 and you sit idling at home and leave it undone ! 
 Deluded men ! you might win unspeakable happi- 
 ness in this world, and immortal crowns in the 
 next ! How ? Why, by making the wretched 
 happy, the impure pure; by teaching the deaf 
 to hear, and the blind to see, the things that 
 belong to their eternal peace ! It 's work worthy
 
 286 Town and For eft. 
 
 of a God ! A God came down from heaven, in 
 the likeness of men, to do it ! And you won't 
 help him, though there 's so much to be done ! 
 The land is perishing for labourers ! O my God, 
 they won't hear me! the fault must be in 
 myself. My lips move, but make no sound. 
 And there they are, on the very brink of the 
 precipice in another moment they will fall over 
 it. Jesus, make them hear !".... 
 
 "And he fell asleep." Acts vii; 60. 
 
 " Servant of God, farewell ! 
 I know that solemn sound ! 
 Thy race is run, 
 Thy work is done, 
 I hear thy passing bell 
 Amidst these earthly scenes no more 
 Shalt thou be found !" * 
 
 * Lines on the death of the Rev. James Manning, of 
 Exeter, 1831. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 WINCHESTER: PBIKTKD BY HUGH BARCLAY.
 
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