far down it; I fear you are, yet
there is a hand that even now beckons to you, and says, 'Turn, turn, I
have no pleasure in the death of him that dieth; wherefore turn and
live:' but, James, you are not ignorant of your Bible."

I tried to conceal my emotions, for it was a very long time since I had
heard such words as these. My Bible and the house of God had been long
entirely neglected. Mrs. Mason perceived that I was affected, and moving
towards the door, said, "Yes, James, it is a slippery, down-hill path
that leads to ruin, and many there be that walk therein. Heaven may be
said to lie upward, yet 'its ways are ways of pleasantness, and all its
paths are peace.' But come, it is broad daylight, and I must hasten
home."

As we passed neighbor Wright's cottage, I had not forgotten the comfort
that was within, and I said secretly, "I'll see what's to be done." The
arrival of Mrs. Mason at home seemed to give to all the liveliest
pleasure and satisfaction; and their inquiries after my poor wife were
made with a kindliness of manner that surprised me. "They respect her,"
said I to myself; they took little notice of me, yet treated me with
more civility than I had a right to expect. Mrs. Mason soon put up a few
little things and directed me to give them to Mrs. Wright, and weighing
me a pound of bacon, and putting a large loaf and half a pound of cheese
into the basket with it, with some soap and candles, said, "I shall
charge _these_ to your bill, James. Patty, go into the garden and cut
James a couple of nice cabbages; I dare say he will know what to do with
them." Having had this unexpected provision made me for the day, and
receiving parting words of encouragement from this kind friend, I
returned home. I found my children up and washed, and breakfast ready.
Mrs. Wright had kindly done this. Jane looked cheerful, and my little
Harry came edging towards me, as if he did not know what to make of all
this. "Mother's so ill, Jane says, father--is she; is she, father?"
looking up in my face as I sat down, "is she?"

"She is better now, my boy," I said.

"Better, father? who made her ill? _you_ didn't make her ill, did you,
father--nice bread, father--did mother bring this nice bread home,
father? speak, father, you don't speak."

I could not trust myself to answer; so I rose, for I was much affected
at the thought that Mrs. Mason had cared for these babes and their
mother, but I had neglected them, and foolishly squa