A SEAKCH. 67 



Almost as soon as Tim had been able to think of anything, 

 he had recollected the job of work brought home from the 

 market town on the morning of his misadventure, and accord- 

 ing to his desire it was sent back untouched, with an account 

 of his illness. One day, however, when approaching towards 

 recovery, he received from the master- tail or a message to the 

 effect, that a packet of new buttons given him for use had 

 not been returned with the other articles. Then, and then 

 only, did Tim call to mind, that instead of being wrapped up 

 with the clothes, these had been put, when delivered to him, 

 in his coat-pocket, and, as they were not there to be found, 

 might have fallen out, as he thought, on occasion of his own 

 abrupt descent down the bank of the river. In this case, 

 they might possibly be yet recovered, and however spoilt, 

 they would serve, at least, as evidence of the manner of their 

 loss and the honesty of the loser. On this occasion the active 

 services of tall Joe were again in requisition ; and, on the 

 evening of the tailor's inquiry, he trudged off (after his work) 

 to search the bank, examine amongst the rushes, and sound, 

 as far as might be, the mud of the stream, which, owing to 

 dry weather, was still low. 



Just as Joe had departed on this errand we happened to call 

 in on our young convalescent, who told us the history of the 

 buttons, and was led thence, partly by his own voluntary 

 retrospects, partly by a few pertinent queries, to relate to us 

 entire that of his ever-to-be-remembered Midsummer eve, be- 



