, a mile or two distant from the shepherd's village;
for he never traveled on a Sunday without such a reason as he might
be able to produce at the day of judgment. He went the next morning
to the church nearest the house where he had passed the night, and
after taking such refreshment as he could get at that house, he
walked on to find out the shepherd's cottage. His reason for
visiting him on a Sunday was chiefly because he supposed it to be
the only day which the shepherd's employment allowed him to pass at
home with his family; and as Mr. Johnson had been struck with his
talk, he thought it would be neither unpleasant nor unprofitable to
observe how a man who carried such an appearance of piety spent his
Sunday: for though he was so low in the world, this gentleman was
not above entering very closely into his character, of which he
thought he should be able to form a better judgment, by seeing
whether his practice at home kept pace with his professions abroad:
for it is not so much by observing how people talk, as how they
live, that we ought to judge of their characters.

After a pleasant walk, Mr. Johnson got within sight of the cottage,
to which he was directed by the clump of hawthorns and the broken
chimney. He wished to take the family by surprise; and walking
gently up to the house he stood awhile to listen. The door being
half open, he saw the shepherd (who looked so respectable in his
Sunday coat that he should hardly have known him), his wife, and
their numerous young family, drawing round their little table, which
was covered with a clean, though very coarse cloth.

There stood on it a large dish of potatoes, a brown pitcher, and a
piece of a coarse loaf. The wife and children stood in silent
attention, while the shepherd, with uplifted hands and eyes,
devoutly begged the blessing of heaven on their homely fare. Mr.
Johnson could not help sighing to reflect, that he had sometimes
seen better dinners eaten with less appearance of thankfulness.

The shepherd and his wife sat down with great seeming cheerfulness,
but the children stood; and while the mother was helping them,
little fresh-colored Molly, who had picked the wool from the bushes
with so much delight, cried out, "Father, I wish I was big enough to
say grace, I am sure I should say it very heartily to-day, for I was
thinking what must _poor_ people do who have no salt to their
potatoes; and do but look, our dish is quite full." "That is the
tru