308 Village Sketches. [APRIL, 



injured in his well leg ; and Margery vented curses as bitter as those of 

 Sycorax ; and Isaac, certainly the most superstitious personage in the 

 parish the most thorough believer in his own gifts and predictions.* 

 was fain to nail a horse-shoe on his door for the defence of his property, 

 and to wear one of his own ague-charms about his neck for his personal 

 protection. 



Poor old Margery ! A hard winter came ; and the feeble, tottering 

 creature shook in the frosty air like an aspen-leaf; and the hovel in 

 which she dwelt for nothing could prevail on her to try the shelter of 

 the workhouse shook like herself at every blast. She was not quite 

 alone either in the world or in her poor hut : husband, children, and 

 grandchildren had passed away ; but one young and innocent being a 

 great grandson, the last of her descendants remained a helpless depen- 

 dent on one almost as helpless as himself. 



Little Harry Grover was a shrunken, stunted boy, of five years old- 

 tattered and squalid, like his grandame, and, at first sight, presented 

 almost as miserable a specimen of childhood, as Margery herself did of 

 age. There was even a likeness between them ; although the fierce blue 

 eye of Margery had, in the boy, a mild appealing look, which entirely 

 changed the whole expression of the countenance. A gentle and a 

 peaceful boy was Harry, and, above all, a useful. It was wonderful 

 how many ears of corn in the autumn, and sticks in the winter, his little 

 hands could pick up ! how well he could make a fire, and boil the kettle, 

 and sweep the hearth, and cram the goslings ! Never was a handier boy 

 or a trustier ; and when the united effects of cold, and age, and rheu- 

 matism confined poor Margery to her poor bed, the child continued to 

 perform his accustomed offices fetching the money from the vestry, 

 buying the loaf at the baker's, keeping house, and nursing the sick 

 woman, with a kindness and thoughtfumess, which none but those who 

 know the careful ways to which necessity trains cottage children would 

 deem credible ; and Margery, a woman of strong passions, strong pre- 

 judices, and strong affections, who had lived in and for the desolate boy, 

 felt the approach of death embittered by the certainty that the workhouse, 

 always the scene of her dread and loathing, would be the only refuge 

 for the poor orphan. 



Death, however, came on visibly and rapidly ; and she sent for the 

 overseer to beseech him to put Harry to board in some decent cottage ; 

 she could not die in peace until he had promised j the fear of the inno- 

 cent child's being contaminated by wicked boys and godless women 

 preyed upon her soul ; she implored she conjured. The overseer, a 

 kind but timid man, hesitated, and was beginning a puzzled speech 

 about the bench and the vestry, when another voice was heard from the 

 door of the cottage. 



" Margery," said our friend Isaac, " will you trust Harry to me ? I 

 am a poor man, to be sure ; but, between earning and saving, there'll 

 be enough for me and little Harry. 'Tis as good a boy as ever lived, and 

 I'll try to keep him so. Trust him to me, and I'll be a father to him. 

 I can't say more." 



" God bless thee, Isaac Bint ! God bless thee !" was all poor Mar- 

 gery could reply. 



They were the last words she ever spoke. And little Harry is living 

 with our good mole-catcher, and is growing plump and rosy ; and 

 Margery's other pet, the lame gander, lives and thrives with them too. 



M. 



