addressed the young woman
thus:--"My good woman, you are now a poor widow, and I wished to see you,
to tell you that I would be your friend. I will take your children, if
you will let me have them, and be a father to them, and educate them;
and, when old enough to work, will have them taught some honest trade."
"Thank you, sir," said she; "but I don't like to part with my children.
The chaplain at the prison offered to take my oldest, and to send her to
London to be taken care of; but I could not often see her there." I
replied, "I commend you for not parting with her, unless you could
occasionally see her; for I suppose you love your children dearly." "Oh!
yes, sir," said the widow. The old aunt also added, "Our people set
great store by their children." "Well," I replied, "I do not wish you to
determine on this business hastily; it is a weighty one. You had better
take a fortnight for consideration, and then give me a second call."

How improbable did it then appear that this interview would ultimately
lead to so much good to many of her people! When the fortnight expired,
the widow and her aunt again appeared, when the following conversation
took place. "I am glad you are come again," said their friend. "Yes,"
replied the widow, "and I will now let you have my Betsy;" and the aunt
immediately added, pointing to one of her grand-children, "I will let you
have my little _deary_, if you will take care of her. Her father,"
continued she, "was condemned to die, but is transported for life, and
her mother now lives with another man." The proposal was readily
accepted; and three days after, these two children were brought washed
very clean, and dressed in their best clothes. It was promised the
women, that they should see their children whenever they chose, and all
parties were pleased. The eldest of these children was six years of age;
the widow's little daughter, only three. The first day they amused
themselves with running up and down stairs, and through the rooms of the
house. But when put to bed at night, they cried for two hours, saying
that the house would fall upon them. They had never spent a day in a
house before, and were at night like birds that had been decoyed, and
then robbed of their liberty. A few kisses and some promises at length
quieted them, and they went to sleep.

After remaining with the author three days, they were removed to one of
the Infants' Schools, where they were often visite