to them, coming, with this large family, on the parish.'

The parish!' exclaimed Richard in the most angry tone that he had ever been known to utter. Ay, boy, the parish: don't you see, if any thing ailed your grandmother or the little ones, though you and Helen might be lucky enough to get a service, you couldn't maintain them; and what must it all come to but that? Oh, I haven't been a beadle's wife and his widow too, for nothing: I know something of the ways of the parish.'

'Mrs. Barker, ma'am,' said Richard, rising and standing as tall as he could,' there is nobody, next to my grandmother, I respect so much as yourself, ma'am: but as long as this roof is over our heads, ay, and as long as these two hands have strength to dig, I do hope, ma'am, you will never hurt our feelings again, by speaking as if any of my family could go on the parish.' And out he walked with a swelling heart.

'As fine a boy as ever trod on shoe-leather,' observed Mrs. Barker: but he is not up to these things. And as for his two hands, and his digging

—well, I'll say no more; only don't let yourself be fooled, Molly Green, by them that care less for you than for the saving of a farthing's worth of musty meal.'

This discussion produced its effect on the widow; but not such as was desired by her two disinterested advisers. The idea of becoming a parish pauper had scarcely occurred to her; but now the thing was presented in a nearer point of view than she could well bear to contemplate. It appeared likely enough that Mr. Stratton was actuated by the motives attributed

to him; but his friend was unconnected with the place; and then the pamphlet ! That would not have been written and printed to deceive her. The contrast was strong: on the one hand pauperism, or, at the very best, a complete separation of the family: on the other, a home, lucrative employment, independence, respectability, all the advantages that schools for the children, and abundant spiritual privileges for them and herself could impart. Besides, her daughter had long been a resident in that very town; and would now, no doubt, be glad to renew the intercourse with a mother whom she had first disobeyed, then slighted, and reproached with undue partiality for William's family. It was too delightful a prospect to be relinquished: her resolution was formed; and on the very next day she announced it to her friend Mr. Stratton, who promised to see an agreement entered into with one of the first millowners in the town, and to make all requisite arrangements for their removal.

When Mr. Barlow returned, he found things too far gone for his interference. He therefore contented himself with rescuing Richard from the fate of the others, by providing him with a situation where he would enjoy means of improvement with the prospect of a good business if he proved diligent and painstaking; and with a heavy heart he bestowed his parting benediction on the assembled household the evening preceding their outset. The scene was so changed that a stranger would not have recognized Green's cottage, in the comfortless, bare walls of the all but deserted mansion. A sale had taken place that morning, comprising the whole of its simple furniture, save a few cherished articles of small intrinsic value,

committed to the care of a kind neighbour; and two flock beds, with their accompaniments of blankets and bedding, which the widow had agreed with the boatman to convey as luggage, for their passage was to be by canal. These lay closely packed, furnishing seats for the party, who were never, never more to assemble in that humble but beloved abode; and who might now be said to mourn each apart, over some secret sorrow with which a stranger could not intermeddle. There are seasons when the nearest, the dearest, the most trusted of bosom friends is comparatively a stranger: there are depths of feeling, and mazes of thought not to be explored by human eye; throbs of secret anguish beyond the alleviation of human sympathy. Alone man enters the world; alone he must launch forth upon eternity; and between the two periods there is many a moment when, despite himself, man is compelled to feel what it is to be utterly alone.

The young children had indulged in many delightful anticipations of the wonders that they were to behold in a great town; but these they had only whispered among themselves, since the little sale of household stuff commenced; for even Willy could enter somewhat into the struggle that was evidently trying the elder portion of the family. They had all felt the parting with Mrs. Barker; and some of her commiserating expressions, as she stroked their heads and patted their cheeks, had excited a misgiving that partially clouded their gay dreams with a vague foreboding of some unknown evil. James grew languid from fatigue; Mary had an uneasy apprehension of rivalship in the affection of her friends among new claimants, and all were deeply grieved at the

prospect of leaving Richard. His were feelings of no common poignancy; for, in persuading him to remain, seeking independence for himself in that rural district, Mr. Barlow had dropped some hints with respect to the injurious effect of factory employment on the health and characters of the rest, which, while they confirmed him in his path of duty, gave rise to more distressing apprehensions than the good minister would willingly have excited. He did not know how far the boy's mind had outgrown his years. Helen's indeed appeared an easier choice; for the only road that seemed open to her was one which kept her beside her benefactress, holding out a fair prospect of repaying to the family some part of her obligation; but her young heart had so entwined itself round the objects familiar from infancy, that the breaking up of the little establishment, the removal of each article as it passed into the hands of a purchaser, and the consciousness that in a few hours she must for ever quit that peaceful home, would have been a heavy grief, even had she not imbibed a secret dread of the untried experiment, and shrunk from what her own fancy, far as it fell below the reality, would picture of the noise, the confusion, and other painful contrasts of a large town.

But none suffered like the widow: she had her portion of what each around her felt, and with it a depressing apprehension that she had acted wrong in preferring the counsel of worldly advisers before that of her long-tried, pious friend. It is no uncommon case to seek direction in prayer, and then to act from the impulse of our own choice, without waiting for an answer. Of selfishness in any shape she stood acquitted, even in her own eyes; but not so of precipi

tation. She was, in fact, one among many victims to a most nefarious device: the waste of human life in the factories, like that in the plantations of the west, occasions so pressing a demand for a supply of new labourers, that it gives rise to a traffic not very dissimilar from the slave trade. A brisk market is always open; and those who consider it a meritorious work to decrease the burdens of their respective parishes at any cost, are equally ready to recruit it with their paupers, as the natives of Madagascar of old were to sell their prisoners. Even where no such desire exists among parochial authorities, emissaries are employed, who, by means of such false representations as those contained in the pamphlet shewn to the widow, written and published for that express purpose, allure the industrious countryman from his healthful sphere, to perish, with his little ones, amid the noxious exhalations of those unnatural dens. It is no fiction that such books are circulated in districts remote from the scenes described in them; or that they often prevail when other means would not succeed.

But the die was cast, the cottage was dismantled, and the little party who sat grouped on the large bundle were to know their place within its walls no more. Evening was closing; a bright moon had surmounted the tops of the old elms that separated two adjoining fields, and looked in, as if for a farewell greeting, through the interstices of a woodbine, that had been carefully trained over the casement, and formed a graceful lattice. Mary broke the long silence.

"Our poor honeysuckle! I do hope whoever gets the place will take care of the honeysuckle.'