m one evening about six o'clock at dinner, and took his seat near
them; and while they were regaling themselves with broiled meat,
potatoes, and tea, the following interesting conversation took place.

"Sir," said the widow, "this is my sister and her children." No one
could have introduced this woman and her little ones with more easy
simplicity than she did, while, by the smile on her swarthy countenance,
she exhibited real heartfelt pleasure. "I am glad to see you, my good
woman;" said the author, "are these your children?" "Yes, sir," replied
she, very cheerfully. "And where are you going?" "I am going into
Surry, sir." "Have you not many difficulties to trouble you in your way
of life?" "Yes, sir," answered she. The author continued, "I wish you
would let me have your children to provide for and educate." "Not I,
indeed," she replied sharply; "others may part with their children, if
they like, but I will never part with mine." "Well, my good woman, the
offer to educate them has done no harm: let me hope it will do good. I
would have you recollect that you have now a proposal made you of
bettering their present and future condition. You and I must soon meet
at the judgment-seat of Christ, to give an account of this meeting; and
you know that I can do better for your little ones than you can." She
was silent. The author then addressed these people and left the tents.

The next day he visited the camp again, when the widow woman said, "Sir,
my sister was so _cut up_ (putting her hand to her heart), with what you
said last night, that she could not eat any more, and declared she felt
as she never had done before; and she has determined to come and live
with us at Michaelmas." What was still better, in consequence of what
was said to this poor stranger, she did not go to the races, although she
had stopped near Southampton for that purpose.

From this time endeavours were made to confirm the woman's intentions to
stay at Southampton, and to place her children with the other. She was
asked, why she would not stay at Southampton then? "Why, to tell you the
truth," said she, "for it's no use to tell a lie about that, I don't want
to bring my children to you, like vagabonds; and as we shall earn a good
_bit_ of money at hopping, I shall buy them some clothes; and then, if
you will take me a room at Michaelmas, I will surely return and live in
Southampton, and my children shall go to school; but I will never