been able so far to exert herself as to attend the last sad ceremony, but had nearly sunk while the psalm was singing. She felt, however, the ground of consolation suggested to her by the service. When the clergyman read, "Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord," and again, when he spoke of "the souls of the faithful after they are delivered from the burden of the flesh being in joy and felicity with the Lord," she felt an humble trust that these words were applicable to her dear departed husband. Deep therefore and acute as her sorrow was, she endeavoured to comply with the admonition of the holy apostle St. Paul, "not to be sorry as one without hope."

She had little time, however, for the indulgence of grief. The circumstances of her family made it absolutely necessary for her to consider by what means she should provide for them. One of her first cares was to administer to the will. Mr. Hooker told her that she was liable to a heavy penalty if she neglected this; and that though the penalty was seldom levied, she was hardly complete executrix until it was done. The next thing to be considered was, how she could get a living without being a burden to the parish. Once she had some thoughts of carrying on the higling business herself; but the being taken so much from her home and children, and several other circumstances, convinced her that this plan was not advisable. She therefore determined to sell the horse and cart, and set up a shop, for which there was a fair opening in the village, without doing injury to any of her neighbours.

It went to her heart to part with the horse, which had been her dear husband's fellow-traveller in so many journeys, and of which he had taken such good care; but prudence forbad her to give way to feelings of this nature. She therefore endeavoured to find for him a kind master, and got quite as good a price as she could expect. The cart too sold for as much as it was worth; and with the money which was thus produced, she was enabled to open her shop with a good supply of articles purchased at the ready money price. One plan, which she very early adopted, may be worth the attention of those who are engaged in the same business. She soon contrived to learn, what was the usual rate of profit, which the shops in the neighbourhood made upon the articles which they sold. They all sold upon credit, and of course lost a good deal by bad debts. Mrs. Wildgoose would gladly have sold nothing but for ready money; but as she soon found that this was out of the question, partly because some of the poor were irregularly paid by their employers, and partly from other causes, she adopted the following plan. In general she gave the same credit as the other shops, and thought it fair to make the same profit, but always gladly gave up half the profit to a ready money customer.

Three of her children were able to make themselves of use. John, the eldest, who was now eleven years old, was employed by a farmer at seven-pence per day. Mary, the next, assisted in washing and mending, and in taking care of little Sarah while her mother was in the shop; and Sam could earn two shillings a week, sometimes by pig-keeping, and sometimes by jingling a sheep-bell, to keep the birds from the corn.

And here I must just mention by the bye a scrape that little Sam once got into. He was sitting on the watch, under a hedge close to the public road, when a flight of pigeons settled on the wheat. Up jumped Sam, and, all at once, began hallooing as loud as his lungs would let him, and making the most alarming noise with his bell. He succeeded in driving off the plunderers but, unluckily, the suddenness of the noise close by the road so frightened the horse of a gentleman who was riding by, that he turned short round, and threw his rider into the dirt. The gentleman was not much hurt, but a good deal out of temper; and vented his anger by giving a few cuts with his whip to the boy, who caused his disaster. Poor Sam meant no harm; but perhaps he deserved some punishment, as his thoughtlessness in making a sudden noise so near the public road, might have been the occasion of a broken limb, or even a more serious accident.

Notwithstanding a few occasional rubs and grievances, the family for some time got on pretty well; but there was something in the character of her eldest son, which gave Mrs. Wildgoose much uneasiness. He had, I am afraid, been rather spoilt from his infancy. Both father and mother were so fond of their first child, that they humoured him in every thing. Whatever he cried for he was almost sure to have, and this mistaken indulgence made him, from very early years, selfish, and wilful. Care and diligence afterwards, prospered by the grace of God, may certainly correct the effects of early spoiling; but, though they had so many other good qualities, the parents of John Wildgoose had not been sufficiently aware of the necessity of paying attention to the forming of his temper and principles. For a few years he was sent to the day school, and learnt to read tolerably well; but when he was between eight and nine years old, he was taken to work; and employed, sometimes by the farmers, sometimes to go on errands for his father. He felt his father's death a good deal, and for some time seemed anxious to do what he could to assist his mother. He stuck to his work, and regularly brought his earnings home; and was kind to his brother and sisters. Soon, however, the wilfulness of his character began again to shew itself, and gained strength by being no longer checked by the authority of a father. His mother was grieved to find that he would often go his own way instead of complying with her wishes. One of his principal faults at this time was a neglect of the Lord's day. He seldom came to church; and when he did happen to come, was inattentive to every part of the service. Mr. Hooker several times endeavoured to persuade him to come to the Sunday school; he told him that one principal use of such schools was the enabling those boys, who were engaged in labour during the week, to keep up and to improve the learning which they had acquired at the day school before they went to work; but he would not be persuaded. In spring he was bird's nesting; in summer he was lying on the grass, or bathing in the river; in autumn he was nutting, and, I am sorry to say, was sometimes guilty of making an inroad on a neighbour's orchard; and in winter he was engaged in sliding on the ice, hunting squirrels, or some other diversion. Both his mother and Mr. Hooker lamented this, and in the kindest manner endeavoured to make him sensible of the folly of his conduct. He received their admonitions in sullen silence; and instead of feeling, as he ought to have felt, that their advice proceeded from a regard for his welfare, seemed to think that it was meant to answer some object of their own.

When he was just past seventeen, he unluckily struck up a close intimacy with a young man in the village, a few years older than himself. His name was William Atkins, but he was usually called Black Will. Atkins was a lively fellow, with a good deal of coarse humour. He was one of those men who neither fear God nor regard man, and who take pleasure in turning religion and every thing serious into ridicule. With him young Wildgoose passed many of his leisure hours; and sometimes on a Sunday evening they used to join a party of idlers at the Fighting Cocks, a lone public house, about a quarter of a mile from the village.

Mrs. Wildgoose saw the intimacy which her son had formed with great pain, and repeatedly cautioned him against it. "Jack," she one day said to him, "I do wish from my heart that you would not