and limited as her knowledge and experience were, in thoughtfulness, owing to the circumstances of her early life, she was more like a woman than a child.

66

James," said she, after she had been ruminating long, "I am thinking, that when I have finished the gloves, and take them to Worcester to Mr. Walker's, you must go with me, and we will try to find out uncle John Mason. Perhaps he could get you work at the china-works, where he goes. Don't you remember that Billy Jackson went there, and got eighteenpence a week by turning a wheel?" But Mary's observation and question fell on an unconscious ear. James had been fast asleep for some time, and before long the images in Mary's busy brain. began to grow confused and indistinct, and she too fell asleep.

At break of day she was awakened by the twittering of the swallows in the thatch above her head, and quickly jumping up and dressing herself, she sat down on the floor just under the pane of glass already mentioned, and opened the parcel of unfinished gloves that her mother had left. She was pleased to find that more was done at them than she had expected, and taking up the needle which had dropped out of her

poor mother's weak hand only a very short time before her death, she began carefully and diligently to go on with the work. She had done a good deal before she heard Mrs. Lee stirring below, or thought it time to call up James; and when Mrs. Lee summoned her down, she took her work in her hand, and with eyes sparkling with modest hope, shewed it to the good woman.

"Do you think that will do, Mrs. Lee?"

"Wait till I get my spectacles on,” said she. "Well, really, child, I did not think you could have done it so well; I cannot tell where your mother stopped, and you began."

"O, but Mrs. Lee, that is because she was so ill. She could not work well, you know." "Well, well, child; I hope some time or other you will be able to work as well, or better than she ever did."

Mary was so diligent at her work, that it was ready to take home to the manufacturer at the end of the week; and as Mrs. Lee approved of her plan for James, they both of them early on Saturday morning got into a neighbour's cart going to Worcester market, in which they had been promised a lift.

When they came in sight of the bridge going

into Worcester, and saw the great letters announcing the china-manufactory of Messrs. Flight and Barr just on the other side, they got out of the cart, and walked up to the large entrance gates; but the notice, "No admission except on business," prevented their attempting to go in, and they seated themselves on some steps close by, waiting till they should see some one come out, of whom they might venture to enquire about their uncle. They had always heard from their mother that he worked in this manufactory, but they had never seen him that they could remember, for he had not once been to visit their poor mother, or shewn her any kindness, since their father's death, and there seemed therefore but small chance that he would now do any thing to help her little orphans.

After waiting some time a workman came out, from whom they ventured to enquire whether one "John Mason worked there."

Yes, he does," said he, "but he's not at work to-day."

"Do you know where he lives, Sir?" "Somewhere in St. Mary's Lane, I believe," returned the man.

Having got the direction to St. Mary's Lane,

the two children soon found their way there, and, after a few enquiries, reached their uncle's house. It was a small house, in a narrow back yard, which was close and very disagreeable. On knocking at the door, it was opened by a dirty looking woman with a very red face.

"What do you want?" she crossly asked. "Is John Mason at home?" said Mary, timidly.

"Yes," replied his wife; "what is your business with him?"

"We are James and Mary Mason, from Malvern," said the little girl, "and we are come to tell my uncle that our mother is dead." "Well, we can't help that, I suppose," said their ill-natured aunt.

"Let the children come in, Kitty," said their uncle, (who had been listening to what had passed,) in a gruff, surly tone of voice. He was sitting smoking by the fire in his shirt sleeves, dirty and unshaved, and every thing about the place looked wretched, not from poverty, but from untidiness and neglect; a good dish of veal cutlets and bacon, however, was crackling in a frying-pan over the fire. "Well," said he, "and so you say your mother's dead, and I suppose you are come a begging; but I tell you,

once for all, I have nothing for you-wages are bad, and living high; and the parish is bound to take care of you, and so you may go back and tell them."

"We are not come a begging uncle," said Mary, rather proudly; "we had rather work for ourselves."

"Then what did you come for?" said he.

"We came," said Mary, "to see if you thought James could get any thing to do at the china-works. I hope Mr. Walker will let me have work, as my mother used to have from him.”

"Well," said Mason, after a pause, "I don't say but what I could get the boy something to do if he is good for any thing, for they are wanting hands at the works just now; I could get good wages with him, I'll engage, wife," continued he, turning to his wife, who had returned to her frying operations.

"And is the boy to stop here?" said she. "To be sure, where else should he?" retorted her surly husband.

"And where is he to be put, so full of lodgers as the house is?"

"Pooh! nonsense, you can find some hole or corner to put him in I warrant, if yoù try, so let us have no more words about it. You may