The parent's assistant; or, stories for children. Part I. Containing, The Little Dog Trusty; OR, The Liar And Boy Of Truth. The Orange Man; OR, The Honest Boy And The Thief. Tarlton. Lazy Lawrence. The False Key: and Barring-Out. To which is prefixed, an address to parents.

LAZY LAWRENCE.

IN the pleasant valley of Ashton there lived an elderly woman of the name of Preston; she had a small neat cottage, and there was not a weed to be seen in her garden. It was upon her garden that she chiefly depended for sup∣port: it consisted of strawberry beds, and one small border for flowers. The pinks and roses she tied up in nice nosegays, and sent either to Clifton or Bristol to be sold; as to her straw∣berries, she did not send them to market, be∣cause it was the custom for numbers of people to come from Clifton, in the summer time, to eat strawberries and cream at the gardens in Ashton.

Now the widow Preston was so obliging, ac∣tive, and good humoured, that every one who came to see her was pleased. She lived happily in this manner for several years; but, alas! one autumn she fell sick, and, during her illness, every thing went wrong; her garden was ne∣glected, her cow died, and all the money which she had saved was spent in paying for medicines.

The winter passed away, while she was so weak that she could earn but little by her work; and, when the summer came, her rent was called for, and the rent was not ready in her little purse as usual. She begged a few months delay, and they were granted to her; but at the end of that time there was no resource but to sell her horse Lightfoot. Now Lightfoot, though perhaps he had seen his best days, was a very great favourite: in his youth he had al∣ways carried the dame to market behind her husband; and it was now her little son Jem's turn to ride him. It was Jem's business to seed Lightfoot, and to take care of him; a charge which he never neglected, for, besides being a very good-natured, he was a very in∣dustrious boy.

"It will go near to break my Jem's heart," said dame Preston to herself, as she sat one even∣ing beside the fire stirring the embers, and con∣sidering how she had best open the matter to her son, who stood opposite to her, eating a dry crust of bread very heartily for supper.

"Jem," said the old woman, "what, ar't hungry?"

"That I am, brave and hungry!"

"Aye! no wonder, you've been brave hard at work — Eh?"

"Brave hard! I wish it was not so dark, mo∣ther, that you might just step out and see the great bed I've dug; I know you'd say it was no bad day's work —and, oh mother! I've good news; Farmer Truck will give us the giant-strawberries, and I'm to go for 'em to-morrow morning, and I'll be back afore breakfast."

"God bless the boy! how he talks! — Four mile there, and four mile back again, afore breakfast."

"Aye, upon Lightfoot you know, mother, very easily; mayn't I?"

"Aye, child!"

"Why do you sigh, mother?"

"Finish thy supper, child."

"I've done!" cried Jem, swallowing ••••e last mouthful hastily, as if he thought he had been too long at supper — "and now for the great needle; I must see and mend Lightfoot's bridle afore I go to bed." — To work he set, by the light of the fire, and the dame having once more stirred it, began again with "Jem, dear, does he go lame at all now" — "What Light∣foot! Oh la, no, not he! — never was so well

of his lameness in all his life—he's grown quite young again, I think, and then he's so fat he can hardly wag." — "God bless him — that's right — we must see, Jem, and keep him fat."

"For what, mother?"

"For Monday fortnight at the fair. He's to be—sold!"

"Lightfoot!" cried Jem, and let the bridle fall from his hand; "and will mother sell Lightfoot?"

"Will; no: but I must, Jem."

"Must; who says you must? why must you, mother?"

"I must, I say, child — Why, must not I pay my debts honestly — and must not I pay my rent; and was not it called for long and long ago; and have not I had time; and did not I promise to pay it for certain Monday fortnight, and am not I two guineas short — and where am I to get two guineas? So what signifies talk∣ing, child," said the widow, leaning her head upon her arm, "Lightfoot must go."

Jem was silent for a sew minutes.—"Two guineas; that's a great, great deal. — If I work∣ed, and worked, and worked ever so hard, I could no ways earn two guineas afore Mon∣day fortnight—could I, mother?"

"Lord help thee, no; not an' work thyself to dea••h."

"But I could earn something, though, I say," cried Jem proudly; "and I will earn something — if it be ever so little, it will be some∣thing — and I shall do my very best; so I will."

"That I'm sure of, my child," said his mo∣ther, drawing him towards her and kissing him; "you were always a good industrious lad, that I will say afore your face or behind your back; —but it won't do now— Lightfoot must go."

Jem turned away, struggling to hide his tears, and went to bed without saying a word more. But he knew that crying would do no good, so he presently wiped his eyes, and l••y awake, considering what he could possibly do to save the horse.—"If I get ever so little," he still said to himself, "it will be something; and who knows but Landlord might then wait a bit longer? and we might make it all up in time; for a penny a day might come to two guineas in time."

But how to get the first penny was the ques∣tion — The he recollected, that one day, when he had been sent to Clifton to sell some flowers, he had seen an old woman with a board beside

her covered with various sparkling stones, which people stopped to look at as they passed, and he remembered that some people b••••ught the stones; one paid twopence, another threepence, and another sixpence for them; and Jem heard her say that she got them amon••st the neigh∣bouring rocks: so he thought that if he tried he might find some too, and sell them as she had done.

Early in the morning he wakened full of this scheme, jumped up, dressed himself, and, having given one look at poor Lightfoot in his stab••e, s••t off to Clifton in search of the old woman, to enquire where she found her sparkling stones. But it was too early in the morning, the old woman was not at her seat; so he turned back again disappointed▪ — He did not waste his time waiting for her, but saddled and bridled Light∣foot, and went to farmer Truck's for the g••••••t∣strawberries. A great part of the morning was spent in putting them into the ground; a••••, as soon as that was finished, ••e let out again in quest of the old woman, who, to his great joy, he spied sitting at her corner of the street with her board before her. But this old woman was deaf and cross; and when at last Jem made her

hear his questions, he could get no answer from her, but that she found the fossils where he would never find any more. "But can't I look where you looked?" — "Look away, no∣body hinders you," replied the old woman; and these were the only words she would say. — Jem was not, however, a boy to be easily discou∣raged; he went to the rocks, and walked slowly along, looking at all the stones as he passed. Presently he came to a place where a number of men were at work loosening some large rocks, and one amongst the workmen was stooping down looking for something very eagerly; Jem ran up, and asked if he could help him. "Yes," said the man, "you can; I've just dropped, amongst this heap of rubbish, a fine piece of crystal that I got to-day." — "What kind of a looking thing is it?" said Jem. "White, and like glas," said the man, and went on working whilst Jem looked very care∣fully over the heap of rubbish for a great while. "Come," said the man, "it's gone for ever; don't trouble yourself any more, my boy." —" It's no trouble; I'll look a little longer; we'll not give it up so soon," said Jem; and, after he had looked a little longer, he found the piece of

crystal. "Thank'e," said the man, "you are a fine little industrious fellow." Jem, encouraged by the tone of voice in which the man spoke this, ventured to ask him the same questions which he had asked the old woman. "One good turn deserves another," said the man; "we are going to dinner just now, and shall leave off work—wait for me here, and I'll make it worth your while."

Jem waited; and, as he was very attentively observing how the workmen went on with their work, he heard somebody near him give a great yawn, and, turning round, he saw stretched upon the grass, beside the river, a boy about his own age, who he knew very well went in the village of Ashton by the name of Lazy Lawrence: a name which he most justly de∣served, for he never did any thing from morn∣ing to night; he neither worked nor played, but sauntered or lounged about restless and yawning. His father was an alehouse-keeper, and being generally drunk, could take no care of his son, so that Lazy Lawrence grew every day worse and worse. However, some of the neighbours said that he was a good-natured poor fellow enough, and would never do any one

harm but himself; whilst others, who were wiser, often shook their heads, and told him, that idleness was the root of all evil.

"What, Lawrence!" cried Jem to him, when he saw him lying upon the grass— "what, are you asleep?" — "Not quite." — "Are you a wake?" — "Not quite." — "What are you doing there?" — "Nothing." — "What are you thinking of?" — "Nothing." — "What makes you lie there?" — "I don't know—be∣cause I can't find any body to play with me to∣day — Will you come and play?" — "No, I can't; I'm busy."—"Busy," cried Lawrence, stretching himself, "you are always busy — I would not be you for the world, to have so much to do always." — "And I," said Jem laughing, "would not be you for the world, to have nothing to do." So they parted, for the workman just then called Jem to follow him. He took him home to his own house, and showed him a par∣cel of fossils, which he had gathered, he said, on purpose to sell, but had never had time yet to sort them. He set about it however now, and having picked out those which he judged to be the best, he put them in a small basket, and gave them to Jem to sell, upon condition that 〈◊〉〈◊〉 should bring him half of what he got. Jem,

pleased to be employed, was ready to agree to what the man proposed, provided his mother had no objection to it. When he went home to dinner, he told his mother his scheme, and she smiled and said he might do as he pleased, for she was not afraid of his being from home. "You are not an idle boy," said she, "so there is little danger of your getting into any mis∣chief."

Accordingly Jem that evening took his stand, with his little basket, upon the bank of the river, just at the place where people land from a ferry-boat, and where the walk turns to the wells, where numbers of people perpetually pass to drink the waters. He chose his place well, and waited almost all evening, offering his fos∣sils with great assiduity to every passenger; but not one person bought any. "Holla!" cried some sailors, who had just rowed a boat to land, "bear a hand here, will you, my little fellow! and carry these parcels for us into yonder house." Jem ran down immediately for the parcels, and did what he was asked to do so quickly, and with so much good will, that the master of the boat took notice of him, and, when he was go∣ing away, stopped to ask him what he had got in his little basket; and when he saw that they

were fossils, he immediately told Jem to follow him, for that he was going to carry some shells he had brought from abroad to a lady in the neighbourhood who was making a grotto. "She will very likely buy your stones into the bar∣gain: come along, my lad; we can but try."

The lady lived but a very little way off, so that they were soon at her house. She was alone in her parlour, and was sorting a bundle of feathers of different colours: they lay on a sheet of pasteboard upon a window-seat, and it hap∣pened that as the sailor was bustling round the table to shew off his shells, he knocked down the sheet of pasteboard, and scattered all the fea∣thers. The lady looked very sorry, which Jem observing, he took the opportunity, whilst she was busy looking over the sailor's bag of shells, to gather together all the feathers, and sort them according to their different colours, as he had seen them sorted when he first came into the room.

"Where is the little boy you brought with you? I thought I saw him here just now."— "And here I am, ma'am," cried Jem, creeping from under the table with some few remaining feathers which he had picked from the carpet;

"I thought," added he, pointing to the others, "I had better be doing something than stand∣ing idle, ma'am." She smiled, and, pleased with his activity and simplicity, began to ask him several questions; such as, who he was, where he lived, what employment he had, and how much a day he earned by gathering fossils. "This is the first day I ever tried," said Jem; "I never sold any yet, and, if you don't buy 'em now, ma'am, I'm afraid nobody else will, for I've asked every body else." — "Come then," said the lady laughing, "if that is the case, I think I had better buy them all." So emptying all the fossils out of his basket, she put half a crown into it. Jem's eyes sparkled with joy. "Oh, thank you, ma'am," said he, "I will be sure and bring you as many more to∣morrow." — "Yes, but I don't promise you," said she, "to give you half a crown to-mor∣row." — "But, perhaps, though you don't pro∣mise it, you will."—"No," said the lady, "do not deceive yourself; I assure you that I will not. That, instead of encouraging you to be industrious, would teach you to be idle." Jem did not quite understand what she meant by this, but answered, "I'm sure I don't wish to

be idle; what I want is to earn something every day, if I knew how: I'm sure I don't wish to be idle. If you knew all, you'd know I did not." — "How do you mean, if I knew all?" — "Why I mean, if you knew about Light∣foot." — "Who's Lightfoot?" — "Why, mam∣my's horse," added Jem, looking out of the window; "I must make haste home and feed him, afore it get dark; he'll wonder what's gone with me." — "Let him wonder a few mi∣nutes longer," said the lady, "and tell me the rest of your story." — "I've no story, ma'am, to tell, but as how mammy says he must go to the fair Monday fortnight to be sold, if she can't get the two guineas for her rent; and I should be main sorry to part with him, for I love him, and he loves me; so I'll work for him, I will, all I can: to be sure," as mammy says, "I have no chance, such a little fellow as I am, of earning two guineas afore Monday fortnight." — "But are you in earnest willing to work," said the lady; "you know there is a great deal of difference between picking up a few stones, and working steadily every day, and all day long." — "But," said Jem, "I would work every day, and all day long." — "Then," said

the lady, "I will give you work. Come here to-morrow morning, and my gardener will set you to weed the shrubberies, and I will pay you six-pence a day. Remember you must be at the gates by six o'clock." Jem bowed, thank∣ed her, and went away. It was late in the evening, and he was impatient to get home to feed Lightfoot; yet he recollected that he had promised the man who had trusted him to sell the fossils that he would bring him half of what he got for them; so he thought that he had bet∣ter go to him directly: and away he went, run∣ning along by the water side about a quarter of a mile, till he came to the man's house. He was just come home from work, and was sur∣prised when Jem shewed him the half-crown, saying, "Look what I got for the stones: you are to have half, you know." — No," said the man, when he had heard his story, "I shall not take half of that; it was given to you. I ex∣pected but a shilling at the most, and the half of that is but sixpence, and that I'll take. — Wife! give the lad two shillings, and take this half-crown." So wife opened an old glove, and took out two shillings; and the man, as she opened the glove, put in his fingers, and took

out a little silver penny. — "There, he shall have that into the bargain for his honesty — Honesty is the best policy—There's a lucky penny for you, that I've kept ever since I can remember." — "Don't you ever go to part with it, do ye hear!" cried the woman. "Let him do what he will with it, wife," said the man. "But," argued the wife, "another penny would do just as well to buy ginger bread, and that's what it will go for." — "No, that it shall not, I promise you;" said Jem; and so he ran away home, fed Lightfoot, stroaked him, went to bed, jumped up at five o'clock in the morning, and went singing to work as gay as a lark.

Four days he worked "every day and all day long," and the lady every evening, when she came out to walk in her gardens, looked at his work. At last she said to her gardener, "This little boy works very hard." — "Never had so good a little boy about the grounds," said the gardener; "he's always at his work, let me come by when I will, and he has got twice as much done as another would do; yes, twice as much, ma'am; for look here—he began at this here rose bush, and now he's got to where you stand,

ma'am; and here is the day's work that t'other boy, and he's three years older too, did to-day —I say, measure Jem's fairly, and it's twice as much, I'm sure." — "Well, said the lady to her gardener, shew me how much is a fair good day's work for a boy of his age."—"Come at six o'clock, and go at six? why, about this much, ma'am," said the gardener, marking off a piece of the border with his spade. "Then, little boy," said the lady, "so much shall be your task every day; the gardener will mark it off for you: and when you've done, the rest of the day you may do what you please." Jem was extremely glad of this; and the next day he had finished his task by four o'clock; so that he had all the rest of the evening to himself. Jem was as fond of play as any little boy could be, and, when he was at it, played with all the eagerness and gaiety imaginable: so as soon as he had finished his task, fed Lightfoot, and put by the sixpence he had earned that day, he ran to the play-ground in the village, where he found a party of boys playing, and amongst them Lazy Lawrence, who indeed was not playing, but lounging upon a gate with his thumb in his mouth. The rest were playing at

cricket. Jem joined them, and was the mer∣riest and most active amongst them; till, at last, when quite out of breath with running, he was obliged to give up to rest himself, and sat down upon the stile, close to the gate on which Lazy Lawrence was swinging. "And why don't you play, Lawrence?" said he.—"I'm tired," said Lawrence. — "Tired of what?" — "I don't know well what tires me; grandmother says I'm ill, and I must take something—I don't know what ails me." — "Oh, pugh! take a good race, one, two, three, and away, and you'll find yourself as well as ever. Come, run — one, two, three, and away." — "Ah, no, I can't run indeed," said he, hanging back hea∣vily; "you know I can play all day long if I like it, so I don't mind play as you do, who have only one hour for it." — "So much the worse for you. Come now, I'm quite fresh again, will you have one game at ball; do." — "No, I tell you I can't; I'm as tired as if I had been working all day long as hard as a horse." — "Ten times more," said Jem, "for I have been working all day long as hard as a horse, and yet you see I'm not a bit tired; only a little out of breath just now." — "That's very

odd," said Lawrence, and yawned, for want of some better answer; then taking out a handful of halfpence—"See what I got from father to∣day, because I asked him just at the right time, when he had drank a glass or two; then I can get any thing I want out of him—see! a penny, two-pence, three-pence, four-pence — there's eight-pence in all; would not you be happy if you had eight-pence?" — "Why, I don't know," said Jem laughing, "for you don't seem happy, and you have eight-pence." — "That does not signify though—I'm sure you only say that be∣cause you envy me—you don't know what it is to have eight-pence—you never had more than two-pence or three-pence at a time in all your life." Jem smiled. "Oh, as to that," said he, "you are mistaken, for I have at this very time more than two-pence, three-pence, or eight-pence either; I have—let me see—stones, two shillings; then five day's work, that's five six-pences, that's two shillings and six-pence, in all makes four shillings and six-pence, and my sil∣ver penny, is four and seven-pence — Four and seven-pence!" — "You have not!" said Law∣rence, roused so as absolutely to stand upright, "four and seven-pence! have you? Shew it

me, and then I'll believe you. — "Follow me then," cried Jem, "and I'll soon make you believe me; come." — "Is it far?" said Law∣rence, following half running, half hobbling, till he came to the stable, where Jem shewed him his treasure. "And how did you come by it? honestly?" — "Honestly; to be sure I did; I earned it all." — "Lord bless me, earned it! well, I've a great mind to work; but then it's such hot weather; besides grandmother says I'm not strong enough yet for hard work; and besides, I know how to coax daddy out of money when I want it, so I need not work. — But four and seven-pence; let's see, what will you do with it all? — "That's a secret," said Jem, looking great. "I can guess; I know what I'd do with it if it was mine — First, I'd buy pockets full of gingerbread; then I'd buy ever so many apples and nuts; don't you love nuts? I'd buy nuts enough to last me from this time to Christmas, and I'd make little Newton crack 'em for me, for that's the worst of nuts, there's the trouble of cracking 'em." — "Well, you never deserve to have a nut." — "But you'll give me some of yours," said Lawrence in a fawning tone, for he thought it

easier to coax than to work — "you'll give me some of your good things, won't you?" — "I shall not have any of those good things," said Jem. "Then what will you do with all your money?" — "Oh, I know very well what to do with it; but, as I told you, that's a secret, and I shan't tell it any body — Come now, let's go back and play — their game's up, I dare say." — Lawrence went back with him full of curio∣sity, and out of humour with himself and his eight-pence. — "If I had four and seven-pence," said he to himself, "I certainly should be happy!"

The next day, as usual, Jem jumped up before six o'clock and went to his work, whilst Lazy Lawrence sauntered about without knowing what to do with himself. In the course of two days he laid out six-pence of his money in ap∣ples and gingerbread, and as long as these lasted he sound himself well received by his compa∣nions; but at length the third day he spent his last halfpenny, and when it was gone, unfor∣tunately some nuts tempted him very much, but he had no money to pay for them; so he ran home to coax his father, as he called it. When he got home, he heard his father talk∣ing

very loud, and at first he thought he was drunk; but when he opened the kitchen door, he saw that he was not drunk, but angry.

"You lazy dog!" cried he, turning sudden∣ly upon Lawrence, and gave him such a violent box on the ear as made the light flash from his eyes; "you lazy dog! see what you've done for me — look! — look, look, I say!" Lawrence looked as soon as he came to the use of his senses, and, with fear, amazement, and remorse, beheld at least a dozen bottles burst, and the fine Worcestershire cyder streaming over the floor. "Now, did not I-order you three days ago to carry these bottles to the cellar; and did not I charge you to wire the corks? answer me, you lazy rascal; did not I?" — "Yes," said Lawrence, scratching his head. "And why was not it done? I ask you," cried his fa∣ther with renewed anger, as another bottle burst at the moment. "What do you stand there for, you lazy brat? why don't you move? I say—No, no," catching hold of him, "I be∣lieve you can't move; but I'll make you." And he shook him, till Lawrence was so giddy he could not stand. "What had you to think of? what had you to do all day long, that you

could not carry my cyder, my Worcestershire cyder, to the cellar when I bid you? But go, you'll never be good for any thing, you are such a lazy rascal — get out of my sight!" So saying, he pushed him out of the house door, and Lawrence sneaked off, seeing that this was no time to make his petition for halfpence.

The next day he saw the nuts again, and, wishing for them more than ever, went home in hopes that his father, as he said to himself, would be in a better humour. But the cyder was still fresh in his recollection, and the mo∣ment Lawrence began to whisper the word "halfpenny" in his ear, his father swore, with a loud oath, "I will not give you a halfpenny, no, not a farthing, for a month to come; if you want money, go work for it; I've had enough of your laziness — Go work!" At these terrible words Lawrence burst into tears, and, going to the side of a ditch, sat down and cried for an hour; and when he had cried till he could cry no more, he exerted himself so far as to empty his pockets, to see whether there might not hap∣pen to be one halfpenny left; and, to his great joy, in the farthest corner of his pocket one halfpenny was found. With this he proceeded

to the fruit woman's stall. She was busy weigh∣ing out some plums, so he was obliged to wait; and, whilst he was waiting, he heard some peo∣ple near him talking and laughing very loud. The fruit woman's stall was at the gate of an inn-yard; and peeping through the gate in this yard, Lawrence saw a postilion and a stable-boy about his own size playing at pitch-far∣thing. He stood by watching them for a few minutes. "I begun but with one halfpenny," cried the stable-boy with an oath, "and now I've got two-pence!" added he, jingling the half-pence in his waistcoat pocket Lawrence was moved at the sound, and said to himself, "If I begin with one halfpenny, I may end like him with having two-pence; and it is easier to play at pitch-farthing than to work."

So he stepped forward, presenting his half∣penny, offering to toss up with the stable-boy, who, after looking him full in the face, ac∣cepted the proposal, and threw his halfpenny into the air. "Head or tail!" cried he. "Head," replied Lawrence, and it came up head. He seized the penny, surprised at his own success, and would have gone instantly to have laid it out in nuts; but the stable-boy

stopped him, and tempted him to throw again. This time he lost; he threw again and won; and so he went on, sometimes losing, but most frequently winning, till half the morning was gone. At last, however, he chanced to win twice running, and, finding himself master of three halfpence, said he would play no more. The stable-boy, grumbling, swore he would have his revenge another time, and Lawrence went and bought the nuts. "It is a good thing," said he to himself, "to play at pitch-farthing: the next time I want a halfpenny I'll not ask my father for it, nor go to work neither." Satisfied with this resolution, he sat down to crack his nuts at his leisure, upon the horse-block in the inn-yard. Here, whilst he eat, he overheard the conversation of the stable-boys and postilions. At first their shocking oaths and loud wrangling frightened and shock∣ed him; for Lawrence, though a lazy, had not yet learned to be a wicked boy. But, by de∣grees, he was accustomed to their swearing and quarrelling, and took a delight and interest in their disputes and battles. As this was an amusement which he could enjoy without any sort of exertion on his part, he soon grew so

fond of it, that every day he returned to the stable-yard, and the horse-block became his constant seat. Here he sound some relief from the insupportable fatigue of doing nothing, and here, hour after hour, with his elbows on his knees, and his head on his hands, he sat the spectator of wickedness. Gaming, cheating, and lying, soon became familiar to him; and, to complete his ruin, he formed a sudden and close intimacy with the stable-boy with whom he had first began to game—a very bad boy. The consequences of this intimacy we shall pre∣sently see. But it is now time to inquire what little Jem has been doing all this while.

One day, after he had finished his task, the gardener asked him to stay a little while, to help him to carry some geranium pots into the hall. Jem. always active and obliging, readily stayed from play, and was carrying in a heavy flower-pot, when his mistress crossed the h••ll. "What a terrible litter!" said the, "you are making here—why don't you wipe your shoes upon the mat?" Jem turned round to look for the mat, but he saw none. "Oh," said the lady, recollecting herself, "I can't blame you, for there is no mat."—"No, ma'am" said the

gardener, "nor I don't know when, if ever, the man will bring home those mats you bespoke, ma'am."—"I am very sorry to hear that," said the lady, "I wish we could find somebody who would do them, if he can't—I should not care what sort of mats they were, so that one could wipe one's feet on them." Jem, as he was sweeping away the litter, when he heard these last words, said to himself, "perhaps I could make a mat?" And all the way home, as he trudged along whistling, he was thinking over a scheme for making mats, which, however bold it may appear, he did not despair of exe∣cuting, with patience and industry. Many were the difficulties which his "prophetic eye" foresaw; but he felt within himself that spirit, which spurs men on to great enterprizes, and makes them "trample on impossibilities."

He recollected, in the first place, that he had seen Lacy Lawrence, whilst he lounged upon the gate, twist a bit of heath into diffe∣rent shapes, and he thought, that if he could find some way of plaiting heath firmly together, it would make a very pretty green soft mat, which would do very well for one to wipe one's shoes on. About a mile from his mother's

house, on the common which Jem rode over when he went to farmer Truck's for the giant-strawberries, he remembered to have seen a great quantity of this heath; and, as it was now only six o'clock in the evening, he knew that he should have time to feed Lightfoot, stroak him, go to the common, return, and make one trial of his skill before he went to bed.

Lightfoot carried him swiftly to the common, and there Jem gathered as much of the heath as he thought he should want. But, what toil! what time! what pains did it cost him, before he could make any thing like a mat! Twenty times he was ready to throw aside the heath, and give up his project, from impatience of re∣peated disappointments. But still he persevered. Nothing truly great can be accomplished with∣out toil and time. Two hours he worked be∣fore he went to bed. All his play hours the next day he spent at his mat; which, in all, made five hours of fruitless attempts—The sixth, however, repaid him for the labours of the other five; he conquered his grand diffi∣culty of fastening the heath substantially toge∣ther, and at length completely finished a mat,

which far surpassed his most sanguine expecta∣tions. He was extremely happy—sung, danced round it—whistled—looked at it again and again, and could hardly leave off looking at it when it was time to go to bed. He laid it by his bed-side, that he might see it the moment he wakened in the morning.

And now came the grand pleasure of carry∣ing it to his mistress. She looked full as much surprized as he expected, when she saw it, and when she heard who made it. After having duly admired it, she asked him how much he expected for his mat. "Expect!—Nothing, ma'am," said Jem; "I meant to give it you, if you'd have it; I did not mean to sell it. I made it at my play hours, and I was very happy making it; and I'm very glad too that you like it; and if you please to keep it, ma'am—that's all."—"But that's not all," said the lady. "Spend your time no more in weeding in my garden, you can employ yourself much better; you shall have the reward of your ingenuity as well as of your industry. Make as many more such mats as you can, and I will take care and dispose of them for you."—"Thank'e, ma'am," said Jem, making his best bow, for he thought

by the lady's looks that she meant to do him a favour, though he repeated to himself, "dis∣pose of them," what does that mean?'

The next day he went to work to make more mats, and he soon learned to make them so well and quickly, that he was surprized at his own success. In every one he made he found less difficulty, so that, instead of making two, he could soon make sour, in a day. In a fortnight he made eighteen. It was Saturday night when he finished, and he carried, at three journeys, his eighteen mats to his mistress's house; piled them all up in the hall, and stood with his hat off, with a look of proud humility, beside the pile, waiting for his mistress's appearance. Pre∣sently a folding door, at one end of the hall, opened, and he saw his mistress, with a great many gentlemen and ladies, rising from several tables.

"Oh! there is my little boy, and his mats," cried the lady; and, followed by all the rest of the company, she came into the hall. Jem modestly retired whilst they looked at his mats; but in a minute or two his mistress beckoned to him, and, when he came into the middle of the circle, he saw that his pile of mats had disap∣peared. "Well," said the lady smiling, "what

do you see that makes you look so surprised?"— "That all my mats are gone," said Jem; "but you are very welcome."—"Are we?" said the lady; "well, take up your hat, and go home then, for you see that it is getting late, and you know, "Lightfoot will wonder what's become of you." Jem turned round to take up his hat, which he had left on the floor.

But how his countenance changed! the hat was heavy with shillings. Every one who had taken a mat had put in two shillings; so that for the eighteen mats he had got thirty-six shillings. "Thirty-six shillings!" said the lady; "five and seven-pence I think you told me you had earned already—how much does that make? I must add, I believe, one other six-pence to make out your two guineas."—"Two guineas!" exclaimed Jem, now quite conquering his bash∣fulness, for at the moment he forgot where he was, and saw nobody that was by. "Two guineas!" cried he, clapping his hands together —"Oh Lightfoot!—oh mother!" Then, re∣collecting himself, he saw his mistress, whom he now looked up to quite as a friend. "Will you thank them all," said he, scarcely daring to glance his eye round upon the company, "will you thank 'em, for you know I don't know how

to thank 'em rightly." Every body thought, however, that they had been thanked rightly.

"Now we won't keep you any longer-on∣ly," said his mistress, "I have one thing to ask you, that I may be by when you shew your treasure to your mother."—"Come, then," said Jem, "come with me now."—"Not now," said the lady laughing, "but I will come to Ashton to-morrow evening; perhaps your mother can find me a few strawherries."

"That she will," said Jem; "I'll search the garden myself." He now went home, but felt it a great restraint to wait till to-morrow even∣ing before he told his mother. To console himself he flew to the stable: "Lightfoot, you're not to be sold to-morrow! poor fel∣low!" said he, patting him, and then could not refrain from counting out his money. Whilst he was intent upon this, Jem was startled by a noise at the door: somebody was trying to pull up the latch. It opened, and there came in Lazy Lawrence, with a boy in a red jacket, who had a cock under his arm. They started when they got into the middle of the stable, and when they saw Jem, who had been at first hid∣den by the horse.

"We—we—we came"—stammered Lazy Lawrence—"I mean, I came to—to—to—" "To ask you," continued the stable-boy in a bold tone, "whether you will go with us to the cock-fight on Monday? See, I've a fine cock here, and Lawrence told me you were a great friend of his, so I came."

Lawrence now attempted to say something in praise of the pleasures of cock-fighting, and in recommendation of his new companion. But Jem looked at the stable-boy with dislike, and a sort of dread; then turning his eyes upon the cock with a look of compassion, said in a low voice to Lawrence, "Shall you like to stand by and see its eyes pecked out?"—"I don't know," said Lawrence, "as to that; but they say a cock-fight's a fine fight, and it's no more cruel in me to go than another; and a great many go; and I've nothing else to do, so I shall go."—"But I have something else to do," said Jem, laughing, "so I shall not go." —"But," continued Lawrence, "you know Monday is the great Bristol fair, and one must be merry then, of all days in the year."—"One day in the year, sure, there's no harm in being merry," said the stable-boy. "I hope not,"

said Jem; for I know, for my part, I am merry every day in the year."—"That's very odd," said Lawrence; "but I know, for my part, I would not for all the world miss going to the fair, for at least it will be something to talk of for half a year after—come, you'll go, won't you?"—"No," said Jem, still looking as if he did not like to talk before the ill-looking stran∣ger. "Then what will you do with all your money?"—"I'll tell you about that another time," whispered Jem; "and don't you go to see that cock's eyes pecked out; it won't make you merry, I'm sure."—"If I had any thing else to divert me," said Lawrence, hesitating and yawning.—"Come," cried the stable-boy, seizing his stretching arm, "come along," cried he; and, pulling him away from Jem, upon whom he cast a look of extreme contempt, "leave him alone, he's not the sort."— "What a sool you are," said he to Lawrence, the moment he got him out of the stable, "you might have known he would not go—else we should soon have trimmed him out of his four and seven-pence. But how came you to talk of four and seven-pence; I saw in the manger a hat full of silver."—"Indeed!" exclaimed

Lawrence. "Yes, indeed—but why did you stammer so when we first got in? you had like to have blown us all up."—"I was so asham∣ed," said Lawrence, hanging down his head. "Ashamed! but you must not talk of shame now you are in for it, and I shan't let you off: you owe us half a crown, recollect, and I must be paid to-night; so see and get the money some how or other." After a considerable pause he added, "I'll answer for it he'd never miss half a crown out of all that silver."—"But to steal," said Lawrence, drawing back with horror—"I never thought I should come to that—and from poor Jem too—the money that he has worked so hard for too."—"But it is not stealing; we don't mean to steal; only to borrow it: and, if we win, as we certainly shall, at the cock-fight, pay it back again, and he'll never know any thing of the matter; and what harm will it do him? Besides, what signi∣fies talking, you can't go to the cock-fight, or the fair either, if you don't; and I tell ye we don't mean to steal it; we'll pay it again Mon∣day night." Lawrence made no reply, and they parted without his coming to any determi∣nation.

Here let us pause in our story—we are almost afraid to go on—the rest is very shocking—our little readers will shudder as they read. But it is better that they should know the truth, and see what the idle boy came to at last.

In the dead of the night Lawrence heard somebody tap at his window. He knew well who it was, for this was the signal agreed upon between him and his wicked companion. He trembled at the thoughts of what he was about to do, and lay quite still, with his head under the bed-clothes, till he heard the second tap. Then he got up, dressed himself, and opened his window. It was almost even with the ground. His companion said to him in a hol∣low voice, "Are you ready." He made no answer, but got out of the window and follow∣ed. When he got to the stable, a black cloud was just passing over the moon, and it was quite dark. "Where are you?" whispered Law∣rence, groping about, "where are you? Speak to me."—"I am here; give me your hand." Lawrence stretched out his hand. "Is that your hand?" said the wicked boy, as Lawrence laid hold of him; "how cold it felt."—"Let us go back," said Lawrence; "it is time yet."

—"It is no time to go back," replied the other opening the door; "you've gone too far now to go back:" and he pushed Lawrence into the stable.—"Have you found it—take care of the horse—have you done?—what are you about? —make haste, I hear a noise," said the stable∣boy, who watched at the door. "I am feeling for the half crown, but I can't find it."— "Bring all together." He brought Jem's broken flower-pot, with all the money in it, to the door.

The black cloud was now passed over the moon, and the light shone full upon them.— "What do we stand here for?" said the stable∣boy, snatching the flower-pot out of Lawrence's trembling hands, and pulled him away from the door. "Good God!" cried Lawrence, "you won't take all—you said you'd only take half a crown, and pay it back on Monday —you said you'd only take half a crown!"— "Hold your tongue," replied the other walk∣ing on, deaf to all remonstrances—"if I am to be hanged ever, it sha'n't be for half a crown." Lawrence's blood ran cold in his veins, and he felt as if all his hair stood on end. Not another word passed. His accomplice carried off the

money, and Lawrence crept, with all the hor∣rors of guilt upon him, to his restless bed. All nigh he was starting from frightful dreams; or else, broad awake, he lay listening to every small noise, unable to stir, and scarcely daring to breathe—tormented by that most dreadful of all kinds of fear, that fear which is the constant companion of an evil conscience. He thought the morning would never come; but when it was day, when he heard the birds sing, and saw every thing look cheerful as usual, he selt still more miscrable. It was Sunday morning, and the bell rang for church. All the children of the village, dressed in their Sunday clothes, in∣nocent and gay, and little Jem, the best and gayest amongst them, went flocking by his door to church. "Well, Lawrence," said Jem, pulling his coat as he passed, and saw Law∣rence leaning against his father's door, "what makes you look so black?"—"I!" said Law∣rence starting, "why do you say that I look black?"—"Nay then," said Jem, "you look white enough, now, if that will please you; for you're turned as pale as death."—"Pale!" replied Lawrence, not knowing what he said; and turned abruptly away, for he dared not

stand another look of Jem's; conscious that guilt was written in his sace, he shunned every eye. He would now have given the world to have thrown off the load of guilt which lay up∣on his mind; he longed to follow Jem, to fall upon his knees, and confess all; dreading the moment when Jem should discover his loss, Lawrence dared not stay at home, and not knowing what to do, or where to go, he me∣chanically went to his old haunt at the stable∣yard, and lurked thereabouts all day, with his accomplice, who tried in vain to quiet his fears and raise his spirits, by talking of the next day's cock-fight. It was agreed, that, as soon as the dusk of the evening came on, they should go together into a certain lonely field, and there divide their booty.

In the mean time Jem, when he returned from church, was very full of business, prepar∣ing for the reception of his mistress, of whose intended visit he had informed his mother; and, whilst she was arranging the kitchen and their little parlour, he ran to search the straw∣berry-beds. "Why, my Jem, how merry you are to-day!" said his mother when he came in with the strawberries, and was jumping about

the room playfully. "Now keep those spirits of yours, Jem, till you want 'em, and don't let it come upon you all at once. Have it in mind that to-morrow's fair day, and Lightfoot must go. I bid farmer Truck call for him to∣night; he said he'd take him along with his own, and he'll be here just now—and then I know how it will he with you, Jem!"—"So do I!" cried Jem, swallowing his secret with great difficulty, and then tumbling head over heels four times running. A carriage passed the window and stopped at the door. Jem ran out; it was his mistress. She came in smiling, and soon made the old woman smile too, by praising the neatness of every thing in the house. But we shall pass over, however important they were deemed at the time, the praises of the strawberries, and of "my grandmother's china plate." Another knock was heard at the door. "Run, Jem," said his mother, "I hope it's our milk-woman with cream for the lady." No; it was farmer Truck come for Lightfoot. The old woman's countenance fell. "Fetch him out, dear," said she, turning to her son; but Jem was gone; he flew out to the stable the moment he saw the flap of farmer Truck's

great-coat. "Sit ye down, farmer," said the old woman, after they had waited about five minutes in expectation of Jem's return. "You'd best sit down, if the lady will give you leave; for he'll not hurry himself back again. My boy's a fool, madam, about that there horse." Trying to laugh, she added, "I knew how Lightfoot and he would be loath enough to part—he won't bring him out till the last minute; so do sit ye down, neighbour." The sarmer had scarcely sat down, when Jem, with a pale wild countenance, came back. "What's the matter?" said his mistress. "God bless the boy!" said his mother, looking at him quite frightened, whilst he tried to speak, but could not. She went up to him, and then lean••ng his head against her, he cried, "It's gone!—it's all gone!" and, bursting into tears, he sobbed as if his little heart would break. "What's gone, love?" said his mother. "My two guineas —Lightfoot's two guineas. I went to fetch 'em to give you, mammy; but the broken flower-pot that I put them in, and all's gone! —quite gone!" repeated he, checking his sobs. "I saw them safe last night, and was shewing 'em to Lightfoot; and I was so glad to think I

had earned them all myself; and I thought how surprised you'd look, and how glad you'd be, and how you'd kiss me, and all!"

His mother listened to him with the greatest surprise, whilst his mistress stood in silence, looking first at the old woman, and then at Jem with a penetrating eye, as if she suspected the truth of his story, and was afraid of becoming the dupe of her own compassion. "This is a very strange thing!" said she gravely. "How came you to leave all your money in a broken flower-pot in the stable? How came you not to give it to your mother to take care of?"— "Why, don't you remember," said Jem, look∣ing up in the midst of his tears; "why, don't you remember you your own self bid me not tell her about it till you were by."—"And did you not tell her?"—"Nay, ask mammy," said Jem, a little offended; and, when after∣wards the lady went on questioning him in a severe manner, as if she did not believe him, he at last made no answer. "Oh, Jem! Jem! why don't you speak to the lady? said his mother. "I have spoke, and spoke the truth," said Jem proudly, "and she did not believe me."

Still the lady, who had lived too long in the world to be without suspicion, maintained a cold manner, and determined to wait the event without interfering, saying only, that she hoped the money would be found; and advised Jem to have done crying. "I have done," said Jem, "I shall cry no more." And as he had the greatest command over himself, he actually did not shed another tear, not even when the farmer got up to go, saying, he could wait no longer. Jem silently went to bring out Lightfoot.— The lady now took her seat where she could see all that passed at the open parlour window. —The old woman stood at the door, and seve∣ral idle people of the village, who had gathered round the lady's carriage examining it, turned about to listen. In a minute or two Jem ap∣peared, with a steady countenance, leading Lightfoot; and, when he came up, without saying a word, put the bridle into farmer Truck's hand. "He has been a good horse," said the farmer. "He is a good horse!" cried Jem, and threw his arm over Lightfoot's neck, hiding his own face as he leaned upon him.

At this instant a party of milkwomen went by; and one of them having set down her pail,

came behind Jem, and gave him a pretty smart blow upon the back.—He looked up.—"And don't you know me?" said she. "I forget," said Jem;" I think I have seen your face before, but I forget."—"Do you so? and you'll tell me just now," said she, "half opening her hand, "that you forget who gave you this, and who charged you not to part with it too." Here she quite opened her large hand, and on the palm of it appeared Jem's silver penny. "Where?" exclaimed Jem seizing it, "oh where did you find it? and have you?—oh tell me, have you got the rest of my money?"—"I know nothing of your money—I don't know what you would be at," said the milkwoman. "But where, pray tell me where, did you find this?"—"With them that you gave it to, I suppose," said the milkwoman, turning away suddenly to take up her milk-pail. But now Jem's mistress called to her through the win∣dow, begging her to stop, and joining in his entreaties to know how she came by the silver penny.

"Why, madam," said she, taking up the corner of her apron, "I came by it in an odd way too—You must know my Betty is sick, so

I come with the milk myself, though it's not what I'm used to; for my Betty—you know my Betty," said she, turning round to the old woman, "my Betty serves you, and she's a tight and stirring lassy, ma'am, I can assure—" "yes, I don't doubt it," said the lady impa∣tiently; "but about the silver penny?"— "Why, that's true; as I was coming along all alone, for the rest came round, and I came a short cut across yon field—No, you can't see it, madam, where you stand—but if you were here—" "I see it—I know it," said Jem, out of breath with anxiety. "Well—well—I rest∣ed my pail upon the stile, and sets me down awhile, and there comes out of the hedge—I don't know well how, for they startled me so I'd like to have thrown down my milk—two boys, one about the size of he," said she, point∣ing to Jem, "and one a matter taller, but ill∣looking like, so I did not think to stir to make way for them, and they were like in a desperate hurry: so, without waiting for the stile, one of 'em pulled at the gate, and when it would not open (for it was tied with a pretty stout cord) one of 'em whips out with his knife and cuts it—

"Now have you a knife about you, Sir?" continued the milk-woman to the farmer. He gave her his knife.

"Here now, ma'am, just sticking as it were here, between the blade and the haft, was the filver penny. He took no notice, but when he opened it, out it falls; still he takes no heed, but cuts the cord, as I said before, and through the gate they went, and out of sight in half a minute. I picks up the penny, for my heart misgave me that it was the very one husband had had a long time, and had given against my voice to he," pointing to Jem; "and I charg∣ed him not to part with it; and, ma'am, when I looked I knew it by the mark, so I thought I would shew it to he," again pointing to Jem, "and let him give it back to those it belongs to."—"It belongs to me," said Jem, "I ne∣ver gave it to any body—but—" "But," cried the farmer, "those boys have robbed him —it is they who have all his money."—"Oh, which way did they go?" cried Jem, "I'll run after them."

"No, no," said the lady, calling to her ser∣vant; and she desired him to take his horse and ride after them. "Aye," added farmer Truck,

do you take the road, and I'll take the field∣way, and I'll be bound we'll have 'em pre∣sently."

Whilst they were gone in pursuit of the thieves, the lady, who was now thoroughly convinced of Jem's truth, desired her coach∣man would produce what she had ordered him to bring with him that evening. Out of the boot of the carriage the coachman immediately produced a new saddle and bridle.

How Jem's eyes sparkled when the saddle was thrown upon Lightfoot's back! "Put it on your horse yourself, Jem," said the lady— "it is yours."

Consused reports of Lightfoot's splendid ac∣coutrements, of the pursuit of thieves, and of the fine and generous lady who was standing at dame Preston's window, quickly spread through the village, and drew every body from their houses. They crowded round Jem to hear the story. The children especially, who were all fond of him, expressed the strongest indignation against the thieves. Every eye was on the stretch; and now some, who had run down the lane, came back shouting, "Here they are! they've got the thieves!"

The footman on horseback carried one boy before him; and the farmer, striding along, dragged another. The latter had on a red jack∣et, which little Jem immediately recollected, and scarcely dared lift his eyes to look at the boy on horseback. "Good God!" said he to himself, "it must be—yet surely it can't be Lawrence!" The footman rode on as fast as the people would let him. The boy's hat was flouched, and his head hung down, so that no∣body could see his face.

At this instant there was a disturbance in the crowd. A man who was half drunk pushed his way forwards, swearing that nobody should stop him; that he had a right to see; and he would see. And so he did; for, forcing through all resistance, he staggered up to the footman just as he was lifting down the boy he had car∣ried before him. "I will—I tell you I will see the thief!" cried the drunken man, pushing up the boy's hat.—It was his own son.—"Law∣rence!" exclaimed the wretched father. The shock sobered him at once, and he hid his face in his hands.

There was an awful silence. Lawrence fell on his knees, and in a voice that could scarcely

be heard made a full confession of all the cir∣cumstances of his guilt. "Such a young crea∣ture so wicked! What could put such wicked∣ness into your head?"—"Bad company," said Lawrence. "And how came you—what brought you into bad company?"—"I don't know—except it was idleness." While this was saying, the farmer was emptying Lazy Lawrence's pockets; and when the money ap∣peared, all his former companions in the village looked at each other with astonishment and ter∣ror. Their parents grasped their little hands closer, and cried, "Thank God! he is not my son—how often, when he was little, we used, as he lounged about, to tell him that idleness was the root of all evil."

As for the hardened wretch his accomplice, every one was impatient to have him sent to gaol. He had put on a bold, insolent counte∣nance, till he heard Lawrence's confession; till the money was found upon him; and he heard the milk-woman declare, that she would swear to the silver penny which he had dropped. Then he turned pale, and betrayed the strongest signs of fear. "We must take him before the

justice," said the farmer, "and he'll be lodged in Bristol gaol. "Oh!" said Jem, springing forwards when Lawrence's hands were going to be tied, "let him go—won't you—can't you let him go?"—"Yes, madam, for mer∣cy's sake," said Jem's mother to the lady, "think what a disgrace to his family to be sent to gaol." His father stood by wringing his hands in an agony of despair. "It's all my fault," cried he; "I brought him up in idle∣ness." —"But he'll never be idle any more," said Jem; won't you speak for him, ma'am?"— "Don't ask the lady to speak for him," said the farmer; "it's better he should go to bridewell now, than to the gallows by and by."

Nothing more was said, for every body felt the truth of the farmer's speech. Lawrence was sent to bridewell for a month, and the sta∣ble-boy was transported to Botany Bay.

During Lawrence's confinement, Jem often visited him, and carried him such little presents as he could afford to give; and Jem could af∣ford to be generous, because he was industrious. Lawrence's heart was touched by his kindness, and his example struck him so forcibly, that, when his confinement was ended, he resolved

to set immediately to work; and, to the asto∣nishment of all who knew him, soon became remarkable for industry: he was found early and late at his work, established a new charac∣ter, and for ever lost the name of Lazy Law∣rence.