the fame," they cried; "which way did the go?" "Why, what do you want to do with her, fays Bridget; for I fhould be loth to betray the poor thing to any harm."" Why you would not conceal a thief, would you?" faid they. "She is a thief and has robbed her mafter,"-" Nay if fhe be a thief, fhe may rob my mafter too, fays Bridget, for she has gone up ftairs with him." Upon this they all turned towards the house, and were coming in when Mr. Heartwell met them. He heard the laft words, and was not a little difturbed at the idea of having the girl found in his houfe, for as the knelt at his feet he thought he knew her face, and had by degrees recollected that, tho' much grown fince he faw her, she must certainly be the daughter of Matthew Wood, an honest laborer, who had lived fome years in his parifh, and died there three or four years before. The long illness before his death had reduced his wife to fuch poverty, that the and her child'would have perished had not the good Vicar's charity helped out the fcantinefs of the parish relief. Mr. Heartwell, after having buried the poor man, tried to find a place for the girl and fome help for her mother, who being in years, and her health much injured by fatigue and grief, in nurfing and lofing her hufband, was quite unable to work. By applying to Lady Worthy, whofe feat was a few miles diflant, he had the good fortune to get her into one of the alms-houfes which that good lady had built and endowed; here the was comfortably

fupported, and her daughter permitted to be with her 'till she could find a fervice. As by thefe means Goody Wood and her daughter were placed at a distance from him, Mr. Heartwell had not fince feen them; but was fatisfied that under Lady Worthy's protection they would be taken care of.

The people who were now rufhing into Mr. Heartwell's houfe, ftopped on feeing him; and on his asking what they wanted there, one of the most decent looking men ftepped forward, and pushing the reft a little back, faid, “I ax pardon, fir, for our bouldness in coming into your Worship's house, but we have got a warrant here for a young perfon that we be tould ran in here."-" A warrant," faid Mr. Heartwell, "why, what is the matter? What has the done ?"

"Please you worship fhe's a thief and has robbed her master's house. We have had fad doings at our village-Squire Bank's house has been robbed too by his gardener and dairy maid, and they are both gone off. This poor girl, I fuppofe, learnt their wicked ways (for fhe would keep company with them) and the fame night that they made off, 'tis thought fhe had let them into Farmer Boucher's houfe; and in the morning as fure as can be, he found his bureau broke open and his money gone."-" But what proof is there that this girl was concerned in the robbery, or that the let in the robbers ?" "Why, fir, fhe had been telling a mort of lies about them, and that made them fufpect her. So they

fearched her box, and as fure as can be, there they found fealed up in a paper, fix filver tea fpoons of the farmer's, with an E and a B upon them as his are marked with. She pertelted they were none of his'n, but were given by a friend to keep for her, but alack a day! there's no believing a word that comes out of her mouth; fo nobody minded her; and when we ax'd her who this friend was that gave them to her to keep, fhe was all as red as fire and would not fpeak. So the farmer left us to take care of her whilft he went to Justice Gallway's for a warrant. We had fhut her up fafe as we thought in a chamber, whilst we eat a bit of dinner and drank a little of neighbour Boucher's ale, but when he came back and we went thither to take her, lo and behold fhe was not to be found. The window was open, and as it was not very high from the ground, we guefs fhe let herfelf down from it. We now fet off in purfuit of her, all but the farmer, who being pretty fat and purfy was not for running a race. So he gave us the warrant, and a boy telling us as how the took this way, we ran 'till we faw a woman running, about half a mile before us, but afterwards we loft fight of her; and pleafe your Worship, your maid tells us as how fhe made into this very houfe." It is true," faid Mr. Heartwell, that fhe is in my houfe, and if you will confent to let her remain here a day or two, I will be anfwerable for her appearance when called upon. In the mean time I will endea

vor to find out the truth; for it would be a fad thing to ruin fuch a young creature, by hurrying her to prifon before we were fure of her guilt. Farmer Boucher is an honeft humane man, he knows my character, and I dare fay will oblige me by stopping all further proceeding against Mary Wood, and leaving her in my care 'till I can talk to her and bring her to declare the truth."-"That's what fhe is not much ufed to, I am afraid, fir," faid the man, "how fomdever, I will tell neighbor Boucher, what your Worship says, and you'll be pleased to take care that the does not get out of the window."-"Boucher's wife is living, is the not? (said Mr. Heartwell) what does the fay of the girl? She muft know more of her character than her mafter can."' "Yes, yes! The be living and looking, and a good kind of body the is, but at present she is from home and knows nothing of all this bustle; for she went two days ago to vifit her father at Stoke. She is expected home to night, and then your Worfhip may have the fpeech of her if you like." They then pulled off their hats and civilly turned back to their village. Mr. Heartwell immediately went up to his prifoner, whom he found funk on the ground in his closet and half dead with terror; for fhe had heard a good deal of what had paffed, and feared every mo ment that Mr. Heartwell would give her up to be dragged to prifon. She knew fhe had been detected in some falsehoods, that would make against her; and though fhe was not guilty of

the robbery, fhe had enough to reproach herself with, to take from her all the comfort and confidence of innocence; fhe had therefore nothing lefs than the terrors of hanging, or being sent to Botany Bay, before her eyes.

But we must go back, and tell by what deceit. poor Mary was firft brought into trouble.

When firft Lady Worthy took her up, the got her a place at Mrs. Trueby's a widow lady of great piety and worth, who lived in the neighboring town. She had a little boy about fix years old, her two maids were growing old in her service; fhe took this girl to help them. The next day after fhe came, fhe bid her own maid fhew her how to fweep and dust the best parlor. The maid, after fhewing her what fhe was to do, and giving her a great charge not to touch the pier glafs which the herself would clean, gave her a long broom and left her to her fweeping. The little boy who had not feen any thing fo young and lively in the house, took a great fancy to Mary, who was no lefs fond of him; he ftaid in the room to fee her sweep it, and the to amufe him at the fame time, gave him an account of the wonders fhe had feen per: formed in the streets the day before, by a ba lance-master, who poized a long pole on the palm of his hand, and even upon his nose, with other performances, which, though not very wonderful in their kind, appeared fo to her, who I wrver feen any thing like it. To make litcalled upon.comprehend what she mean by this