As Mary was coming home in the evening fhe met one who told her what a fearch her mother had been making for her; this threw her into a terror that fpoilt all the pleafure fhe had enjoyed at the fair. She came home half dead with fear and fatigue, and threw herfelf at the feet of her miftrefs, confe ffing her fault, and making folemn promifes never to repeat it; after fevere reprimands, her mistress at length forgave her, on condition that fhe fhould never again hold any acquaintance with that gardener and dairy-maid, of whom fhe told her fhe had heard a bad character: Mary wept and promifed every thing; and though the cream and the fruit were ftrong allurements, added to the civil things the gardener ufed to fay to her, yet for fome time fhe forbore her vifits at Mr. Banks's, but by degrees, the acquaintance was fecretly renewed, which coft Mary a falsehood every time she was with thefe people, whofe company her mistress had fo pofitively forbidden. One day Mrs. Boucher went to pay a vifit of two or three days at her father's, a few miles off. The farmer could not go with her, for he was bufy felling his grain, and getting his rent ready for his landlord; and had got the money in the houfe on the Saturday, which he meant to pay away on the Monday.

On Sunday after church he went out; charg ing Mary to stay at home and be careful of the house: her too friends from Mr. Banks's took the opportunity of her being alone, to come and

drink tea with her; they had got notice of the farmer's having fold his grain, and as they intended to rob their mafter's house and go off with the spoil the next night, the gardener thought he might as well take the farmer's money with him; he remembered he had once bought fome dung for his garden of him, and that he faw him put the money in a bureau, in a little parlor.

While Mary was getting tea, the gardener pushed open the parlor door, and faid, O here is a clever little cool room, let us remove the things in here. When they had got into that room, he faw the bureau, confidered the lock, and then looking out at the window, he took occafion, unobferved by Mary, to examine the fastenings, and how he could easily get in at night. Whilst he was thus employed, one of the farmer's plougboys paffing by, observed this man looking out at his master's window; he wondered at it, because he knew the farmer was not at home.

Mary took care to difmifs her guests before her master's return; and on his asking her if any one had been there, fhe replied nobody. The next morning when Boucher came down into the little room, he faw his bureau broken open, and the cash that had been in it taken away.

The farmer inquired of all his people, and the ploughboy mentioned his having feen Mr. Banks's gardener looking out of the window, and faid he had heard that the two fervants were

gone off that morning, and had robbed Mr. Banks's houfe of plate and whatever they could carry off. This, compared with what the ploughboy had obferved, and with Mary's having denied that any body had been there, fixed their fufpicion on her as having been concerned in the robbery. She was forced to confefs that Mr. Banks's fervants were with her in the afternoon to tea, but strongly denied knowing any thing of the robbery; however they opened her box, there they found fix new filver tea-fpoons marked with the firft letters of Boucher's name, fealed up in a paper. The farmer knew his wife had fix new ones from London not long before, and doubted not these were the fame. The girl's guilt now appeared plain.

But to return to Mr. Heartwell, whom we left entering the closet in which Mary was, as foon as her purfuers were gone. Though he by no means knew all that we have related of this unhappy girl, he faw that appearances were ftrong against her. Yet he was very unwilling to believe the worft, and immediately raised her with kindness from the ground. "Mary," faid he, "if you will now be perfectly fincere with me, I will befriend you as much as juftice will permit. I find the chief caufe of your being fo trongly fufpected is, that you have departed from the truth; this is always attended with great danger as well as guilt; you have been enough inftructed in religion to know that deceit is hateful to God; that he has de

nounced dreadful punishment for liars-even "the fake that burneth with brimftone and fire;" that he has commanded "every one to put away lying, and to speak the truth to his neighbor from his heart; that lying lips are an abomination to the Lord, but truth is his delight." For my part, I pity your youth, and I wifh to fave and ferve you, but unless I can hope to cure you of this fault, I muft with a grieved heart give you up to your wretched fate, for it is impoffible for me to do you any good." Whilft he spoke his eyes filled with tears, and poor Mary cried without ceafing. She now tried to fpeak, but her fobs prevented her; at laft, fhe faid, "I fee, I fee that I have undone myself, that even you, who are fo good, will never more believe me, but give me up to mifery and despair; I would now moft truly confess to you every thing, but you will not, you cannot believe me! and I fhall juftly fuffer for what I have not done, because I have made my felf unworthy of belief. O fir, what can I do? Is there no place for repentance? no good Chriftian who will try me once again? Will you not at least hear me if you cannot believe me, whilft I tell you of all my fins, and the fad difgraces they have brought upon me ?" "I will hear you," faid the good old man," but if you now deceive me, or hide any thing from me, I will never more concern myfelf about you, but muft leave you to reap the bitter fruits of your baseness of heart." Mary now threw herself at his feet-kiffed his hands-and

bathed them with her tears.

"O fir," fhe faid,

"God knows I have no wifh to deceive or to hide any thing from you, if I do, I confent that you fhall give me up forever." She then told what we have before related. When she came to the article of the tea-fpoons, he defired her to explain whofe they were, and how she came by them. She told him that on the Sunday evening when Mr. Banks's maid and gardener drank tea with her, the former on going away took her afide, and giving her a little parcel fealed up, begged of her to put that in her box and keep it for her till fhe fent for it; the reason of this the would tell her when they met again. She went away without giving Mary time to afk another queftion. She was confufed when asked about the spoons, because fhe thought she should betray her friend, and becaufe fhe was afhamed to confefs the intimacy fhe had kept up with her, against her mistress's orders and her own promifes. How the spoons came to be marked with Boucher's letters, E. B. fhe could not imagine; for the woman's name who gave them to her was Sarah Fisher.

Mr. Heartwell kept Mary that night, and took pains to imprefs on her a deep fenfe of her fin. Next day they had a vifit from farmer Boucher, who told them that his wife on her return, examined her drawer, and found the spoons fafe as fhe had left them. They were marked with the fame letters as thofe found in Mary's box; and as the farmer had fcarce looked at them