irs, with her head foremost, on the ground. The bag that lay by her
side showed this to have been the case.

"I made an offer to the parish officers to keep the two children myself,
not doubting, but that the goodness of God, even a poor widow as I was,
would enable me to support them. The worthy curate came yesterday to see
the unfortunate Margaret, and great indeed was his affliction when I
related to him what I have been now telling you. I then told him, that
John was gone to him; but I was much surprised, when he declared he had
seen nothing of him. The two children came up to him; and little Jack
asked him, if he could not awake his mother, who had been a long time
asleep. This brought tears into the eyes of the good curate, who
proposed to take the two children home to his own house and bring them
up under his care; but as I could not consent to part with both these
innocents, it was at last agreed, that he should take the younger and
leave me the elder.

"He asked little Jack if he should not like to go with him. 'What, where
my mother is?' said Jack, 'oh! yes, with all my heart!' 'No, my little
man,' replied the curate, 'I do not mean there, but to my handsome house
and garden.'--'No, no,' answered Jack, 'I will stay here with Susan, and
every day go to where my mother is; for I would rather go there than to
your handsome garden.'

"This worthy curate did not choose to vex the child more, who went and
hid himself behind my bed-curtains. He told me he would send his man for
the younger, who would be more trouble to me than the elder child, and
before he went, left me some money towards the support of this.

"This, Sir, is the whole of this unfortunate business. What makes me
exceedingly uneasy at present is, that John does not return, and that
it is reported in the parish, that he has connected himself with a gang
of smugglers, and that his wife put an end to her life through grief.
These stories have obtained such credit in the village, that even the
children have got it; and whenever poor Jack attempts to mix with them,
they drive him away as though he were infectious. Hence the poor little
fellow is quite dull, and now never goes out but to pay a sad visit to
his mother's grave."

Mr. Glover, who had silently listened to this melancholy tale, was
deeply affected by it. Little Jack was now got close up to Susan; he
looked at her with fondness, and often called her his mother. Mr. Glover
at length broke sil