ll chime—a church bell.

    I turned in tion of t tic  I o note an  and a spire. All t my rigure-fields, and cornfields, and tering stream ran zig-zag to t far beyond  struggle on: strive to live and bend to toil like t.

    About tered t ttom of its one street ttle sed a cake of bread. it refres I could per it, it  to proceed. to rengturned to me as soon as I  my fello it o faint .  me I could offer in excied round my t; I ell remities of destitution proceeded. I did not knoed: probably t; but I must try.

    I entered tably- dressed person, a lady as sy. ongue  utter t I  offer  it o sit do, as I ired. Disappointed in tation of a customer, so my request. Sed to a seat; I sank into it. I felt sorely urged to  conscious ation rained it. Soon I asked he village?”

    “Yes; te as many as t for.”

    I reflected. I o t noy. I stood in tion of one  a resource,  a friend,  a coin. I must do somet? I must apply somewhere. here?

    “Did s ed?”

    “Nay; s say.”

    “ rade in t did most of the people do?”

    “Some  Mr. Oliver’s needle-factory, and at the foundry.”

    “Did Mr. Oliver employ women?”

    “Nay; it was men’s work.”

    “And he women do?”

    “I kna,”  on as they can.”

    So be tired of my questions: and, indeed, une ed. I took leave.

    I passed up treet, looking as I  at all to t o t; but I could discover no pretext, nor see an inducement to enter any. I rambled round t, going sometimes to a little distance and returning