AUGUST. 179 



washing- tubs, and the hnes, and the pegs ; and for fear you lose the 

 place, say you'll take it, and I'll soon shew you the way." 



'Tisn't worth telling; for nothing's easier than getting married, 

 if )'-ou go the right way about it. And though the girls in the village 

 said I was taking her home to scare the birds off my seeds, I knew 

 what I'd got, and so did they, and none better than Margaret. But 

 less said the better ; only I'd have young men know, that there's 

 more truth than they think for in the old saying, " Fine feathers 

 make fine birds." Ay, too fine by half; and 'tisn't till they're fixed 

 for life that they find out how often " a silk sock hides a sore toe." 



How the squire and his lady did giggle when they saw the wife 

 I'd brought home, though they did all they could to hide it, and turn 

 it ofl;'on something else. " Let them laugh that wins," thought I ; 

 though I did feel vexed, I must allow. But they were a pattern of 

 a master and mistress ; no looking down upon those Providence had 

 placed under them, — always a kindly look or word for all that be- 

 haved themselves ; but if there was any thing wrong, then look out ; 

 there was to go into master's room, and such a lecture — he was like 

 a counsellor. Dear me, if employers would but talk a little more, in 

 a kindly way, to their people, how many wrong notions would be got 

 rid of ! Why, there isn't one master in a hundred knows any thing 

 about what goes on in a man's mind ; how it rankles in their hearts 

 to see a sick horse or a lame dog sat up with ; while, if he's bad, he 

 may lie at home, and never so much as a kindly message. Yet it's 

 all for want of thought ; for there's a deal lost by it. A kind heart's 

 like getting into a cold bed in a winter's night : if you warm the 

 sheets first, there's the blankets underneath to warm you in return ; 

 and so it is with poor men : if you're frightened at the first chill, 

 you'll never find the glow there is about them, that only wants 

 fetching out. I hate to hear some say, " The poor are so ungrateful." 

 Look now, people give away some coals in winter-time, or some 

 clothes to poor women, — and some mean well enough, ay and do such 

 kind things and let nobody know it ; but if it wasn't for seeing their 

 names in print, and it's being a public subscription, five out of ten 

 wouldn't give sixpence. Well, perhaps, by and by, these same 

 people want a job done for one shilling that's worth two shillings 

 and sixpence ; and then comes the cry, "Poor people are so ungrate- 

 ful." Out on such charity ! say I. 



And now let me tell about a bit of my foolishness ; for I've been 

 foolish, like my father before me, though maybe in a different way. 

 I feel ashamed of it; but perhaps the telling it may help some young 

 men to keep out of the pit I fell into, and teach 'em, when they've 

 got a good place to try and keep it ; for I've learnt — ay and bitterly 

 too, once in my life — that if good men are scarce, good places are 

 not like hedge-fruit in autumn. I've heard men, when they've got 

 discharged, and been a bit fuddled, say : "I don't care ; more places 

 than parish-churches." That " don't care" saying does a deal of 

 harm, for men use it till they believe it ; and very often when they 

 say it loudest, they care the most ; but young people catch the word, 

 and soon find the trouble " don't care" brings. But I'm forgetting 



