soon. We were informed in the evening that his
patron had no sooner left him, than Dick got up,
and, weak and ill as he was, had walked all the
way to his cottage. I went to see him the next
morning. On entering his room, I found a little
girl, with a particularly open, honest countenance,
and the picture of neatness, engaged in reading
a chapter in the bible to Dick, who appeared to
be eagerly listening to some of those merciful
promises, which are so abundantly to be found in
the sacred volume. Dick motioned to her to
shut the book and leave the room. "That child,”
said Dick, "is now repaying me for the care I
have taken of her. She has been doing for me
what I am unable to do for myself—she reads
the bible to me. Ah, Mr.
what should I
have done now without her. I am a poor, igno-
rant, outcast, and have nothing to look back to
that can give me any comfort. There is, how-
ever, in that book," pointing to the bible," some
words that make me hope I may, perhaps have my
sins forgiven. She seems to know what they mean,
for she reads them in a different way to what she
does some of the other parts. Poor child! she
little thinks that a dying man like me has no-
thing to comfort him, but what she reads to me.”

I was much affected at seeing Dick in this state. He was evidently, as he had said, a dying man. His hardihood, his courage, his unshaken

1

honesty, his pride, or rather the decision of his character, all occurred to me, and here I saw him, uneducated and ignorant as he was, rough as the the heaths on which the greatest part of his life had been passed, melted into gratitude and tenderness on hearing that he had a hope of pardon. I urged him to let me send a clergyman to him. This he declined. "I never spoke to one while I was well,” replied he, “ and I will not see one now I am ill." After using my feeble endeavours to direct his hopes to the only source from which they could be derived, he led the conversation to the little girl I had seen in the room.

66

I have already hinted at Dick's early attachment to Susan Jones. That it influenced his feelings during the remainder of his short life, there can be no doubt. He had now nothing to conceal from me, but he shewed much distress of mind and strong feeling, while he gave me the following little history. "I would have sheltered her from every harm," he said, " as I have seen our ragged sheep protect their young on the wild heath, when a bird of prey has attacked them, but Susan would not let me. She was always wilful, and laughed at my advice and warnings. I knew that she kept company with one of the wildest characters in the neighbourhood, who took her to dances at fairs, and to see the play-actors. Many a time have I hid myself on

the heath to watch for her coming home, which she would do sometimes late at night, or early in the morning, with that man with her. What I feared at last happened. Susan looked ill and unhappy, and the situation she was in could no longer be concealed. She went to London to see a relation, where her child was born, and which was afterwards sent to be taken care of by her father and mother. They talked of sending it to the poor-house, but I had taken a liking to the child, and I promised to do my best for it, if they would let me have it. It was a hard task at first, but I watched over her, nursed her and worked for her, and then I loved her better than ever I thought I could have loved any thing in this world. Susan knew that I had the child, and she knew that I would take care of it. She wanted to

have me sent money for it, but this I would not let her do. As little Susan grew up, my affection for her increased, and I have endeavoured to do my duty by sending her to school to learn to read, and by keeping her out of the way of those who might set her a bad example. When I have come home at night, sometimes wet and tired, I thought of nothing but the pleasure she shewed at seeing me again, while I listened to her innocent talk." When I am dead, continued Dick "I know those will take care of her, who have taken care of me." Having endeavoured to make

his mind easy on this subject, I left him apparently prepared to meet an event, which he must have known could not be far distant. Dick must have undergone great privations in order to support his charge. When offered his usual meals at my friend's house, he would drink his glass of beer and eat a piece of bread, after perhaps a day's hard work, or a night passed in watching for poachers, and the remainder of his meal he would put into his pocket. This habit at first excited surprise in the servant's hall, but it was Dick's constant practice, and the reason of it was not discovered till after his death.

An autumnal mist had begun to gather round the cottage, when I called upon him the following evening. There was the low bench by the side of the door, with a bush of lavender at the end of it. One or two blossoms still lingered on a straggling honey-suckle, and the yellow leaves of an unpruned vine were fast falling to the ground. On making my way to the door leading into Dick's room, I found that a blanket had been considerately fastened over it, either to exclude the wind, or to prevent his being disturbed by noises. I entered softly, and heard the gentle voice of little Susan reading the bible. Dick was sitting in a chair by the side of the bed, and Susan rested the bible on his knees. His rough head of hair, shaggy eye-brows, pale countenance, and

glassy eyes, afforded a strong contrast to the healthy and innocent face of Susan, as she occasionally looked up anxiously at him. I sat down near them, and Susan went on, probably excited to do so by one of those earnest appeals from her kind protector which she well understood. The chapter she was reading contained an account of the kindness shewn by our blessed Saviour to a miserable object who was helpless and diseased. Dick listened with the utmost attention and earnestness. When Susan had read those compassionate words "Man-thy sins are forgiven thee-" he looked gratefully towards Heaven, and then fixing his eyes on the object of his care and love, he struggled briefly and expired.