ad
been given to those in distress, and now, in her eighty-first year, she
was unable to pay for the common necessaries of life. She called
together the tradesmen, whom she had hitherto paid promptly, and told
them that she was now poor, and would have to remain so until her
tenants were prosperous enough to pay their rents. Perhaps they would
not be in a position to do so during her lifetime, and she left it to
them, the tradesmen, to decide whether or not they would continue to
serve her, and run the risk of not being paid. Unanimously and
promptly the tradesmen declared that, as heretofore, she should have
the best of their stock. Joanna Baillie gives their reply in the
following lines:--

No, noble dame! this must not be.
With heart as warm and hand as free
Still thee and thine we'll serve with pride,
As when fair fortune graced your side.
The best of all our stores afford
Shall daily smoke upon thy board;
And should'st thou never clear the score,
Heaven, for thy sake, will bless our store.

The tradesmen were paid eventually, but not by Lady Grizel Baillie, for
she died on December 6, 1746, before prosperity came to her tenants. A
long life had been given her, and she had spent it nobly exhibiting all
the good qualities which a woman should possess.

LUCY HUTCHINSON, A BRAVE WIFE

One morning in the spring of 1638 a large number of people had
assembled at a Richmond Church to witness the marriage of John
Hutchinson, eldest son of Sir Thomas Hutchinson, with Lucy Apsley, the
daughter of Sir Allen Apsley. The bride, who was only eighteen years
of age, was, according to her contemporaries, exceedingly beautiful and
very accomplished; her future husband was learned, well-bred and
handsome. Both had a host of friends, and thus it was that a large
crowd had gathered at the church to witness their marriage.

The time for the bride to arrive at the church had come; but she was
not there. Minutes passed, and soon a messenger arrived with the news
that the marriage would not take place that day. 'But why was it
postponed?' This was the question which the disappointed friends
asked, and the answer was soon forthcoming.

Lucy Apsley had been seized with small-pox on her wedding morning. In
those days small-pox was far more feared than it is at the present
time, and the crowd quickly dispersed, some of the people fearing that
the messenger who brought the bad news might also have bro