• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Frontispiece
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 Chapter I
 Chapter II
 Chapter III
 Chapter IV
 Advertising
 Back Cover
 Spine






Title: Waste not, want not
CITATION THUMBNAILS PAGE TURNER PAGE IMAGE ZOOMABLE
Full Citation
STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00026268/00001
 Material Information
Title: Waste not, want not
Physical Description: 93, 9 p., 1 leaf of plates : ill. ; 19 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Partridge, S. W ( Samuel William ) ( Publisher )
Houlston and Wright ( Publisher )
Publisher: Houlston and Wright
S. W. Partridge
Place of Publication: London
Publication Date: 1872
Copyright Date: 1872
Edition: Parlour ed.
 Subjects
Subject: Christian life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Temptation -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Pride and vanity -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Mothers and daughters -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Domestics -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Gossip -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Bars (Drinking establishments) -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Publishers' catalogues -- 1872   ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1872
Genre: Publishers' catalogues   ( rbgenr )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
 Notes
General Note: Date from inscription.
General Note: Publisher's catalogue follows text and on endpapers.
Statement of Responsibility: by Mrs. Sherwood.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00026268
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: ltqf - AAB9051
notis - ALH7930
oclc - 58526021
alephbibnum - 002237443

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Front Matter 1
        Front Matter 2
        Front Matter 3
    Frontispiece
        Frontispiece
    Title Page
        Page 1
        Page 2
    Table of Contents
        Page 3
        Page 4
    Chapter I
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
    Chapter II
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
    Chapter III
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
    Chapter IV
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
    Advertising
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
    Spine
        Spine
Full Text














I- a0











S artritf c'd lutt trate 3oofl0 .


FIVE SHILLINGS EACH, CLOTH, ILLUSTRATED.
Our Dumb Neighbours: or, Conversations of a Father with his Children on
Domestic and other A.imals. Intended as a sequel to "Our Dumb Com-
panions." l y Rev. T. Jackson, M.A. With numerous Engravings, after
Rosa Bonheur, Sir E. Lnndseer, Harrison Weir, Zweeker, &e., &c. Cloth,
Medallion on Side, 5/; Extra Gilt, 7/6. (In the Press).
Our Dumb Companions; or, Stories about Dogs, Horses, Cats, and
Donkeys. .By Rev. T. Jackson, M.A. With Seventy-five Engravings,
Cloth, Medallion on Side, 5/; Extra. Gilt, 7/6.
Clever Dogs, Horses. &c., with Anecdotes or other Animals. By Shirley
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5/; Extra Gilt, 7s. 6d.
Our Four-Footed Friends; or, the History of Manor Farm, and the
People and Animals there. By Mary Howitt. With Fifty Engravings,
Cl.th, Mednllion on bide, ". ; E.tra Gilt, 7;6.
Animal Sagacity; r,r. Remarkable Incidelits Illustrative of the Sagacity of
Animals. By Mrs. S. C. Hall. With Severity-tlive Engravings, Cloth,
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Our Children's Pets : being Stcrie ab..ut Animals, in Prose and Verse.
By Jo'ephirie \Vith Seventy Engravings, Cloth, Medallion on Side, 5/;
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One Hundred Hieroglyphic Bible Readings for the Young. Com-
piled by the Editurs ot [he '- Children's Frind."' With Seven Hundred
and Fifty Engravings. Cloth, Gilt Edges, 5/.
Jack the Conqueror; or, Difftliculties Orerc.mine. By Author of "Dick and
his Donkey." With Twelve Engravings, Cloth, Medallion on Side, 5/;
Extra Gilt, 7/6.
* My Mother. A Series :rTwldve Oil Pitures. to illustrate this well-known
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Texts and Flowers, Illuminated. A Series of Pen and Pencil Illustrations
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The Mother's Picture Alphabet. A Page to Each Letter. With
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Songs and Hymns for the Little Ones. Compiled by Uncle John.
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gilt edges., 7/6.
LONDON: S. W. PARTRIDGE & CO., 9, PATTERN(
S - -- -- The Baldwin Library
& I (Lte B5 ioy
1 fI ~ Of








Illustrated Books.


TWO AND SIXPENCE EACH, CLOTH, ILLUSTRATED.
Vignettes of American History. By Mary Howitt. 19 Engravings. Cl. 2/6.
George Fox, the Friends and the Early Baptists. By W. Tallack. Cloth. 2/6
Ellerslie House; a Book for Boys. By Emma Leslie. Cloth. 2/6.
Three Opportunities; or, The Story of Henry Forrester. Cloth. 2/6.
The Brewer's Family; or, The Experiences of Charles Crawford. By
Mrs. Ellis. 2/6.
Thomas Shillitoe, the Quaker Missionary. By W. Tallack. Cloth. 2/6.
A Golden Year and its Lessons of Labour. Cloth. 2/6.
Peter Bedford, the Spitalfields Philanthropist. By Wm. Tallack. Cloth. 2/6.
The Christian Monitor; or, Selections from Pious Authors. Cloth. 2/6.


ONE AND SIXPENCE EACH, CLOTH, ILLUSTRATED,
Illustrated Sabbath Facts, or God's Weekly Gift to the Weary. 1/6.
Illustrated Temperance Anecdotes for the Platform and the People. 1/6.
The Mysterious Parchment; an American Story. Edited by J. W.
Kirton. 1/6.
The Great Pilot and His Lessons. By Author of The Giants." 2/6.
Sketches from My Note Book. By Geo.'Mogridge (Old Humphrey). 1/6.
Every Day Lessons. By George Mogridge (Old Humphrey.) 1/6.
Sparks from the Anvil. By Elihu Burrit. Revised by the Author. 1/6.
A Kiss for a Blow; or, A Collection of Stories for Children. By H. C.
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Roger Miller; or, Heroism in Humble Life. By Rev. G. Orme. New Edit. 1/6.
The Dairyman's Daughter. By the Rev. Legh Richmond, M.A 1/6.
Illustrated Penny Readings; by various Authors. In 2 Vols. each 1/6.
The Four Pillars of Temperance. By J. W. Kirton. 1/6.
The Little Woodman & His Dog Caesar. By Mrs. Sherwood. New Ed. 1/6
Waste Not, Want Not. A Book for Servants. By Mrs. Sherwood. New
Edition. 1/6.
Domestic Addresses, and Scraps of Experience. By G. Mogridge (Old
Humphrey). 1/6.
Nancy Wimble, the Village Gossip, & how She was Cured. By T. S. Arthur. 1/6
Family Walking-Sticks. By George Mogridge (Old Humphrey). 1/6.
Sunday-School Illustrations. By Ephraim Holding (Old Humphrey). 1/6.
What Put my Pipe Out. Illustrated by George Cruikshank. 1/6.
Willy Heath and the House Rent. By William Leask, D.D. 1/6.
Good Servants, Good Wives, and Happy Homes. By T. H. Walker. 1/6.
Anecdotes of the Aborigines. Historical & Missionary. 25 Engravings. 1/6.
Bible Jewels. The Pearl-The Diamond-The Ruby-The Amethyst-The
Emerald, &c. By Dr. Newton. With 24 Engravings. 1/6.
The History of Susan Gray, as related bya Clergyman. By Mrs. Sherwood.
1/6.
S. W. PARTRIDGE & CO., 9, Paternoster Row




This page contains no text.






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FRONTISPIECE.









WASTE NOT, WANT NOT.





BY MRS. SHERWOOD.
AUTHOR OF THE LITTLE WOODMAN."


PARLOUR EDITION.




LONDON:
HOULSTON AND WRIGHT, 65, PATERNOSTER ROW.
S. W, PARTRIDGE, 9, PATERNOSTRR ROW.




This page contains no text.














CONTENTS.




CHAPTER I.
PAGE.
Widow Fairfield-The Busybody-Dame Crawford-The Two Situa-
tions-The Particular Mistress-Hannah at the Public
House-Love of kinery-Mrs. Shirley's Cottage-Mary's
Holiday 5


CHAPTER II.
A Neat Servant-A Bad Companion-The Races-The Washing-day
-Mary's Discontent-A Wise Mother-An Increase of
Wages-Death of Mrs. Shirley-A Good Character-The
Widow's Gratitude 29


CHAPTER III.
Mary at the Farmhouse-Early Rising-Harvest Time-Welsh Patty
i-An Old Acquaintance- Early Instruction Remembered-
Esther Stephens-Suspicion aroused -50



CHAPTER IV.
Eye-service-Mrs. Taylor's Affliction-A Faithful Servant-A Gentle
Reproof-William Stephens-Hannah's Extravagance-The
Widow's Visit to her Daughter-Hannah runs off with a
Showman-Mary is married to William Stephens-Hannah's
unhappy Death 69




r
1' =-1 5
" "'











WASTE NOT, WANT NOT.




CHAPTER I.
Widow Fairfield-The busy-body Dame Crawford-The Two Situations
-The particular Mistress-Hannah at the Public-house-Love
of finery-Mrs. Shirley's Cottage-Mary's Holiday.

IN the neighbourhood of the city of Worcester, and
on the opposite side of the River Severn, is a
number of houses, which form a kind of suburbs,
and which formerly composed a single long street, for
the most part made up of mean dwellings, occupied
by boatmen, and other persons who have concerns on
the water. About forty years ago, there resided in a
narrow court in this street, a poor widow of the name
of Fairfield, who supported herself by sewing gloves,
by which she obtained a tolerably comfortable mainten-
ance. This poor woman had one daughter, whom she
treated with a mother's fondness, and whose spiritual






Waste not, want not.


welfare she earnestly desired. Those who have vi-
sited many foreign countries, and observed the man-
ners which prevail there, will not dispute that there
are more good mothers in our happy Island, than in
any other country of the same size in the whole world.
The poorest mother in England loves her baby, and
provides for its wants to the best of her power :
though there are nevertheless many Elis in our land;
many, whose sons make themselves vile, and they
restrain them not," 1 Sam. iii. 13 ; many who indulge
their children in habits of idleness, and every species
of vice, thus doing all in their power to ruin those very
beings who, in their infant days, were the joy of their
hearts, and the delight of their eyes.
The Widow Fairfield, as will be hereafter seen,
was not a character of this kind; she loved her
child indeed, yet never spared correction when it
was necessary that it should be used; but accus-
tomed her daughter from an early age to treat her
with respect, and to give her all the assistance in her
household matters which could be expected. She could
not afford to send her to school, neither did she wish
it; considering that, as her own employment kept






Waste not, want not.


her at home, there was no reason why she should not
teach her child, and thus enjoy the pleasure of her
company, and be made worthy of her everlasting
gratitude. The widow was not indeed a capital
scholar; but then she considered, that it would be no
hard matter for her to improve herself: and as she
had a good deal of time every Sabbath day, she then
endeavoured to make herself mistress of what she must
teach her daughter during the following week; and, as
she often said, she thought herself very well off if
she could keep only one step before the little girl, an
object which it was by no means difficult to effect, for
young children are very slow when first beginning to
learn.
There were not so many little books in those days
as there are now ; but the good woman possessed an
old P?,,' 1,'.7;',, made Easy, and a Bible: and I will ven-
ture to say, that with these books, if there were no
others in the world, a careful mother, with the Divine
blessing, might give her child as much knowledge as
she would ever need for the regulation of her conduct,
either in reference to this life or the next. In these
days there is a mighty stir about new 1. and new






WPaste not, want not.


plans of teaching ; but to render any plans service-
able, it is necessary there should be good fathers and
mothers; mothers, who, while they are going about
their household work, will have an eye upon their
children, taking care that they learn and practise
the holy lessons contained in the books which are
given them ; and pious fathers, who, when they return
from their work at night, will take their little ones on
their knees, and speak to them of heaven and hell, of
their God and Saviour, and other holy things.
Such a good mother as I should like to see in every
cottage through all this pleasant country, was the poor
Widow Fairfield ; and, as might have been expected,
she had great reason to think herself happy in her
little daughter Mary, who was as decent and as good
a girl as any at that time in the whole town.
In the same narrow court or entry, as that in which
the Widow Fairfield's house was situated, lived a
waterman, with his wife and children. The man
himself, who was commonly known by the name of
Ben Brown, or Brown Ben, (alluding to his swarthy
and weather-beaten skin), was seldom at home ; and
his neighbours would 'not have been sorry if his wife






Waste not, want not.


Grace had found occasion to absent herself, as often as
her husband, for it was no easy matter to rest in peace
within the sound of her voice.
This busy-body was always so engaged in settling
her neighbours' affairs, and correcting what she saw
amiss in other folks' houses, that she had little time,
and less inclination, for managing her own business ;
and though she had money in abundance, and no
other employment herself, than that which occupies
most of the females of the lower classes in and about
Worcester, namely, sewing gloves, yet she never exer-
cised any control over her children, but allowed them
to idle the whole day in the yard and in the street,
till the boys were old enough to follow their father.
Another neighbour in the same court, was a Dame
Crawford, an old woman, and a very notable body,
who picked up a good maintenance by sewing and
ironing in different houses of the town, filling up the
odds and ends of her time in settling her neighbours'
concerns, and retailing the news of one house to the
inhabitants of another.
Dame Crawford and Grace Brown were, for the
most part, very intimate friends, though they occa-






Waste not, want not.


sionally fell out, at which times, the whole neighbour-
hood was sure to be roused up, to hear them abuse
each other in all kinds of foul language :--though, to
do them justice, they did not bear each other much
malice, but were as good friends as ever when they
had spent their anger, that is, if we can call such a
gossipping intimacy as subsisted between these women,
by so good a name as that of friendship.
It is easy to conceive, that the Widow Fairfield
could not find much comfort among such neighbours
as these ; but if she had no comfort in her neighbours,
she had much in her child, and more in her God ; and
though she was afraid of turning out her little one to
play in the yard with her neighbours' children, who,
she was sensible, were no fit companions for her, yet
she contrived to give her exercise by sending her into
the country to gather sticks and flowers in their
season, and even by walking out with her herself,
when she could spare a quarter of an hour from her
work. Often, since Mfary has been grown up, and
parted' from this dear, parent, has she spoken with
delight, of some of those quiet evening walks when
her poor mother accompanied her, and .sat with her






Waste not, want not.


under the shade of a tree, conversing about many


il:,K-:ilt and holy things, in which poor people have
the same interest, as the finest lord of the land. For,
although the poor are not endowed with so many
earthly goods as the rich enjoy, yet, have they not the
same heavenly Father to care for them, the same
blessed Saviour to provide for their salvation, and the
same Holy Spirit t6 regenerate and sanctify them, to
guide and counsel them, and finally to lead them to






12 Waste not, want not.


glory, as the greatest personage on earth can boast ?
And what is it, I ask, which makes our food pleasant,
and our sleep sweet to us, but a consciousness of the
Divine blessing, creating such a peace as the world
cannot give ?
By working every day with her little girl, the good
mother had not only taught her child to read her Bible
with ease, by the time she was twelve years of age, but
also had improved herself so much, that there was not
a single chapter which she could not read off as well,
if not better, than the parish-clerk himself ; and more
than this, by hearing the Holy Scriptures conned over
from day to day, her head became so well stored with
Scriptural knowledge, that there was scarcely a text
to which she could not turn, without being told either
chapter or verse.
From the time that Mary had reached her ninth
year, her mother had employed her during part of the
day in working at the gloves with herself ; but as she
did not think the trade was a good one for a very
young girl, inasmuch as the gains were small, and the
confinement very great, the widow considered that if
she could get her an easy service, it would be much






Waste not, want not.


more for her advantage, though it went to her heart to
part with one who had been the solace of her life,
through many a long year of widowhood. Neverthe-
less, this excellent mother thought of nothing so much
as the good of her child ; and setting self on one side,
when Mary was fifteen, she resolved to enquire for
such a service as she trusted would suit her. But the
Widow Fairfield had no acquaintance among the great
folks, and, on this occasion, she knew not what better
to do than to speak to Dame Crawford, who was said
to be an influential body with some of the best families
in Worcester :-accordingly, seeing Dame Crawford's
door open one afternoon, and the good woman ironing
before the window, she ventured to step in, with her
work in her hand, not having observed that Grace
Brown was sitting behind the door.
The widow had scarcely set her foot over the door-
sill when Mrs. Crawford exclaimed, Neighbour Fair-
field, as I am alive !-what wind has blown you here ? "
Something above the ordinary, you may be sure,"
said Grace, from behind the door : Dame Fairfield
is not so fond of your company as to come here for
nothing."






Waste not, want not.


"I was purposing," said the widow, to get some


light service for Mary, Neighbour Crawford ; and I
am thinking, that as you know so many of the great
folks, you would be the very person to speak a good
word for her with them."
Mrs. Crawford, though a very busy woman, was not,
on the whole, an ill-natured one ; and nothing pleased
her better than to have it supposed that she possessed
some influence. She therefore immediately asked her






Waste not, want not.


neighbour to sit down, and began to tell whose ser-
vants were at the next season for changing, and whose
were to stop on," as she worded it; and who actually
wanted servants, and who were provided: with sundry
other particulars which I shall forbear to enumerate,
contenting myself with saying, that the result of all
this was, that at that time three places appeared
likely to be vacant, all of which might suit such a girl
as Mary. The first of these, and the very best in point
of gain, was that of a maid to draw the liquor at the
Widow Smith's, at the Sow," in Doldy : a capital
place," as Mrs. Crawford said, "for gain ; for," added
she, the girl who is there now, got, to my certain
knowledge, twenty shillings at the last races, just for
showing the guests into the parlour : and I doubt not,
that, first and last, the place is worth six pounds a-year."
Ay !" said Mrs. Brown, sitting upright in her
chair, surely you don't say so "
I do," said Mrs. Crawford, because I can vouch
for it."
"What is the next place you know of as being
vacant ? asked the widow.
Squire Strangeways, of Hollo," replied Mrs. Craw-





Waste not, want not.


ford ; "where I have ironed, first and last, these ten
years, though it's a great way to go ; but Madam
Strangeways does not fancy any of her things unless I
iron them. There is a kitchen-maid wanted just to
wash dishes, and right up the kitchen after the cook ;
but it's a desperate hard place, though the last girl
said there were some pretty winnings to be had by
way of perquisites."
Ay ? said Grace Brown, I thought the cook had
all them things."
So she thinks too," replied Mrs. Crawford, wink-
ing at her neighbours," but I know better, and so does
Jane Harris."
"I think," observed Mrs. Fairfield, somewhat
timidly, that you mentioned a third place ? "
"Yes," returned the other, "but it's a poor thing;
Mary will scarcely have enough for shoe-leather, and
so shut up and dull. Betty Hacket, the girl who is
to leave next week, says it's the dullest place ever
any poor body was in. Not that the mistress is bad
tempered, but she is so faddy, so timorsome like.
She would sooner go of an errand herself, than send
the girl out at dusk; and then the lass has no






Waste not, want not.


time to herself, for the mistress sits in the kitchen,
when she has no company; for she is mighty near,
and there is but one fire and candle between them;
then the wages are not so much as three pounds
a year."
And who is this lady ? asked the widow.
Why, Mrs. Shirley," replied the other, who lives
in a little bit of a house on Henwick Hill: as you
are a good church-goer, you must have seen her a
thousand times, for she never misses church ; and
you may know her by her old bonnet, and by her
leaning on the lass's arm as she goes along."
I have heard of her," returned the widow, and
she bears the best of characters. You would oblige
me very greatly, Neighbour Crawford, if you would
but speak a kind word for Mary."
Is the woman mad ? exclaimed Grace Brown.
"Why, when our good dame here has told you of three
places, one worth six pounds a year, another worth
I know not what, and a third which is not the value
of fifty shillings ; you shut your ears against the two
first, and gape at the third like a boy bobbing for
cherries. Why, woman, you have no more sense





Waste not, want not.


than a green goose, and that's the plain downright
truth."
True," remarked Mrs. Crawford, but if our
neighbour has a mind of the old lady's place, why
should not she have it, Grace ? and if you wish to
put out Hannah, I will speak a word for her at the
' Sow.'" The last clause was spoken in a whisper, in
order that the widow might not hear it.
"I have been thinking," answered Mrs. Fairfield,
when her neighbours had ceased to whisper, of what
you said just now to me, Grace, respecting my not
being over wise in wishing for the fifty-shilling place,
in preference to the others which our good neighbour
proposed; and as I love plain speaking, I will give
you my reasons. I cannot say that I ever spoke to
Madam Shirley in all my life; but for all that, I have
known her by character ever since I was the height of
the table, and I know also her breeding, and have
heard of the many troubles she has gone through,
with the faith and patience of a Christian. I also
know that although her means are small, she is the
best of friends to the poor, and more like a mother
than a mistress to her servants; and I consider that






Waste not, want not.


the care, and the instruction, and the conversation, of
such a lady as that, ought to be counted of more
value to a poor young creature, going out into the
world, than pounds and pounds of gold and silver; of
more value, I say, Neighbour Crawford," added the
good widow, than gold and jewels; and indeed so
precious are they in my sight, that I should think
myself well off if she would take my child for nothing,
and provide her only with her old clothes.
Nay, Neighbour Brown, don't laugh, but hear reason.
My child is to be a servant; that is the way of life
I have chosen for her: now a girl out of such a poor
house as mine cannot be supposed to understand much
of household work; and ought not we mothers to
consider ourselves very happy, if, when we first start
our young ones in the world, we can meet with good
ladies who will take them only for their maintenance,
without counting wages at all ? Is it not a custom to
pay a premium for a child to be taught the poorest
trade; and when we put a lad, prentice, don't we look
to the character of the master ? and yet, when a girl
is to be put to service, we count the character of the
mistress next to nothing, and we put no value at all






[Waste not, want not.


upon her instructions, or her care, or her management,
though these things in after life (not to speak of the
world to come) may be worth pounds, and scores of
pounds, to the young person."
"There is something in what you say, Neighbour
Fairfield," said Mrs Crawford, turning round from her
ironing board; and I tell you what, if you will just
run over these few pocket-handkerchiefs, I'll put on
my bonnet, and step up this very moment to Madam
Shirley's, and I hope that I shall bring you good news
before an hour is out."
The widow expressed her gratitude in the strongest
terms, and took her neighbour's place at the ironing-
board. Mrs. Crawford then set out on her errand, being
followed out of the house by Grace Brown, who, as
she stepped over the door-sill, said to the widow,
" Well, good woman, take your own way; but, I tell
you, your lass will get nothing but sheep's-heads and
cold tatoes for her Sunday dinner."
It was more than an hour before Mrs. Crawford re-
turned; but the widow was aware of her being at
hand before she could catch a sight of her through
the window, for she heard her Neighbour Brown call






Waste not, want not.


to her as she entered the court, to enquire how she
had sped on her fool's errand.
Fool's errand, or not," replied Mrs. Crawford,
" Neighbour Fairfield is to go up with her daughter
on Monday morning; and I count the matter as all
but settled."
"Well done, Dame Crawford !" said Grace. "And
now, as you have done a good turn for one neighbour,
you won't refuse as much for another; for since you
left us I have made up my mind to put Hannah to
service; so turn about, and go and speak a word for
her with Mrs. Smith."
"What at the Sow ?'" returned Mrs. Crawford.
" Have you forgotten it is Saturday night, and the
house is as full as it can hold ? with such a noise and
ranting that I could not make Mrs. Smith hear, if I
was to shout to the very top of my voice: no, no,
good neighbour, that would never do. Stop till
Monday, and I will manage the matter; only remem-
ber that I must have a new ribbon for my trouble."
"And what will you have from Neighbour Fair-
field ? asked Grace.
0," replied the other, I shall be content with her
c






Waste not, want not.


goodwill, for the creature has hardly one penny to
rub against another; and if Mary can get shoes to
her feet at Madam Shirley's, it will be as much as she
can do."
"So that's all you get by serving such folks as those,"
observed Grace, turning in at her own door; while
, Mrs. Crawford hastened to tell the Widow Fairfield
. how much she was indebted to her.
And now, inasmuch as I must not make my story
too long, I shall content myself with saying, that the
widow took her daughter on the Monday morning to
Mrs. Shirley's, when the old lady was so pleased with
the mother, that she hired the child, and appointed
her to come the next Saturday-engaging only to find
her with clothes for the first two years. In the mean-
time, Hannah Brown was hired at the public-house,
and went to her place about the same time that Mary
went to Mrs. Shirley's.
We will not trouble ourselves very much with Han-
nah's proceedings at the public-house, but shall only
remark, that the gains were quite equal to what Mrs.
Crawford had represented; that is, if we may judge by
the new gowns, bonnets, ribbons, and gloves, which






Waste not, wani not.


Hannah displayed when she came to see her mother ;
for, as Grace Brown very properly remarked, such
handsome things are not to be had for nothing. But
we hope we shall better satisfy our readers by giving
them an insight into Mrs. Shirley's small, neat dwelling
on Henwick Hill.
Mrs. Shirley's house was placed on a sloping bank,
commanding a fine view of Worcester on the opposite
side of the river, with its many spires and venerable
towers. A little garden, cultivated by the hands of
the old lady and her maid, and abounding, in the
season, with roses, pinks, and tulips, encompassed the
small building, and shed its fragrance all around. The
house consisted of an exceedingly small entrance, with
a very little parlour on one side, and a kitchen, rather
larger, on the other. Two bed-rooms, a store-room,
and a small back-kitchen, occupied the rest of the
building. The mistress used one bed-room, and kept
the other in great order for the reception of an elderly
cousin, who now and then visited her; and the little
maid, in consequence, was obliged to sleep in a kind
of closet over the entrance: but, small as this place
was, it had a window which opened into the gar-






Waste not, want not.


den; and beside the bed there was room for Mary's
box.
The old lady was accustomed to ring her bell every
morning at six o'clock, and she required her maid to
have every thing prepared for breakfast in the kitchen
between seven and eight. The good lady breakfasted
as soon as she came down, and the maid had her tea-
pot afterwards and took her breakfast at another little
table; for every thing was of a small size in this good
lady's house. After breakfast, all was washed up and
put away; and then the old lady read a prayer with
her maid; and afterwards, while she occupied herself
with her needle, and in darning and patching her old
linen, (for she had little money to buy new), the maid
read to her the psalms and lessons of the day : at the
end of which service, she was employed in rubbing the
furniture and cooking-utensils, and in making all things
bright and clean in and about the house, and orderly
in the garden; the good lady, in the meantime,
following her about, directing, approving, and finding
fault, or sending forth her orders from her seat in the
kitchen.
The cooking, certainly, was not much in this house:






Waste not, want not.


but Mrs. Shirley would have every thing done well,
and would allow of no flutter or confusion while dinner
was being prepared. She also insisted upon having
her dinner ready to a minute, precisely when the
cuckoo-clock in the kitchen announced the hour of one.
After this meal, the maid's business was to clean up
all her things, change her working dress, and prepare
herself for a walk with her lady. This last occupation
was Mary's chief delight; for when, after a while, her
mistress found that she was a modest, good child, she
used to talk to her when they went out, and often told
her stories about people who had lived in the country
when she was a very little girl, and explained to her
their old-fashioned customs and ways of living. She
also often talked to her about the Bible, and told her
of the happy deaths of her father and mother, of her
husband, (for she was a widow), and of her only son,
who had died when about nine years of age.
There are many most lovely walks in the neighbour-
hood of Worcester, for the country abounds with hills
and valleys, orchards and hop-yards, fragrant fields,
and shady hedgerows; and the lady had great delight
in these scenes and took pleasure in pointing out to







Waste not, want not.


Mary what was the most lovely and admirable in the
works of God, teaching her to look up from the works
of creation, to the Creator himself. And you may be
sure that on these occasions, she did not forget to lead
her thoughts to the great work of man's redemption by
God incarnate.
After their walk, the lady and her little maid had
their tea, and then the maid was obliged to sit and sew
till bed-time, while her mistress looked over her work,
and was sometimes even so good as to read to her; but
if that did not suit her convenience, she always made
her place a hymn-book before her, and repeat a hymn
while she was sewing.
Thus day after day passed with little interruption,
till that formidable week arrived, when all the linen
in the house was to be washed and then Mary was
obliged to get up very early, and wash till late at
night, and if the washing was not well done, she was
forced to do it over again; besides which, she was
made to iron, to plait, and stamp, and clap, and clear-
starch, and puff, and fold, and go through all those
troublesome businesses which young girls in general
dislike so much, that they would rather be dirty all






Waste not, want not.


their days than learn to perform them. Mary
Fairfield was fifteen years of age when she went to
live with Mrs. Shirley; and from that time till she
was seventeen, she was as happy as it is possible for
any one on this earth to be. Certain it is, that she
was not dressed so smartly as Hannah Brown, and
that she lived plainly; but then she was kept as much
out of the way of sinful and low company as the first
lady of the land, and was always learning something
new and useful. Some people said that it was very hard
for her to be made to work in the garden : but then,
these people did not know that Mary found both
health and pleasure in the garden, and that she was as
delighted to see it neat, and to see the various colours
of the flowers, as if they had been all her own; and,
indeed, were they not her own ? for were not their
beautiful blossoms spread before her eyes ? and was
she not continually refreshed with their delightful
colours ? And was she not allowed, during the season
for flowers, to send a nosegay every Saturday evening
to her mother, by the hand of the milk-woman who
lived close to the widow ?
Once a week, Mrs. Shirley, when she was quite well,







Waste not, want not.


used to drink tea with an old lady who lived near her
on the hill; and on that day Mary was allowed to
take her work, and sit with her mother, upon condition
that her parent would walk back with her to the place
where Mrs. Shirley was drinking tea. Thus the young
girl was as much watched and cared for, as if she had
been one of the best of people's children ; and her
mother never failed to thank God, for having provided
her child with such a friend.


I,















CHAPTER II.


A neat Servant-A bad Companion-The Races-The Washing-day-
Mary's Discontent-A wise Mother-An increase of Wages--
Death of Mrs. Shirley-A good character-The widow's grati-
tude.

WHILE Mary Fairfield remained at Mrs. Shirley's, she
grew very tall; and by being carefully kept out of bad
company, and enjoying regular food and proper rest,
(for she was always in bed, and generally asleep before
nine o'clock,) she became, with the Divine '.1. -, so
comely a girl, that many persons remarked it to the
widow: and even those that envied the good woman,
could not help saying, that Mary Fairfield, even in her
linsey pinafore, looked better than most of the smartest
girls in Worcester. Indeed, it is not fine clothes that
make a servant look well : but cleanliness, good
manners, and modesty.
These will set off the most ordinary face; while girls
who are not well reared and kept at home, may dizen






Waste not, want not.


themselves out in every kind of extravagant finery,
without looking one bit more like ladies, than they
would if they wore a linsey petticoat and harden
apron.
Mrs. Shirley had promised, if Mary behaved well
for two years, to give her three pounds, instead of find-
ing her with clothes, and she was as good as her word;
but it was agreed that the widow should have the
money to lay out for her daughter in what way she
should think best.
Soon after Mary's second year with Mrs. Shirley
had elapsed, she was one evening allowed to go to her
mother's; and it unfortunately happened the same
evening, that Hannah Brown was also at home, having
had leave from Mrs. Smith to see her father, who
was arrived that day from a voyage down as far as
the Channel.
As Hannah came into the yard, she nodded at
Mary, who was sitting at her mother's door; and 1M:, y
looked with wonder, and, I am afraid, with something
like envy, at her glazed cotton gown, which hung in a
train behind, according to the fashion of those days,
and the ribbons in her bonnet.






Waste not, want not.


"Why, mother," remarked Mary, How fine Han-
nah is I am sure she must have great wages to buy
such grand things."
The Widow Fairfield answered shortly, Yes, my
dear, the wages at Mrs. Smith's are very good :" and
then tried to turn the discourse to some other subject.
Mary went on with her work, and Hannah passed
in and out of the yard several times, sweeping her
train by Mary, and talking about the races, which were
to take place the next week.
Mother," said Mary, I should like to have a gown
like Hannah's."
May be you might," replied the mother; "but
there are two reasons why you will not have such a
one. The first is, that you have no money to buy
such a gown; and the second is, that neither your
mistress nor Ishould like to see you dressed in such a way."
"What, mother!" rejoined Mary, do you think
that gown is too fine for me ? Perhaps it may be: but
if it is too good for me, it is too good for Hannah
Brown; and I am not sure, when I look at her, if I
don't think so too."
And what business have you to think at all about






Waste not, want not.


it ?" replied the widow. I am sure your mistress
does not teach you to meddle with other people's
concerns."
Mary made no answer, but whenever Hannah
appeared, her eye followed her: and when she
observed her light conduct, in talking and laughing
loudly, and romping with her brothers and the young
sailors, Mary drew up her lip, and looked contempt-
uously at her. The widow, however, did not perceive
this; otherwise she would surely have reproved her
daughter, for we have no right to behave scornfully
towards our neighbours, though we should shun their
faults. But as the noise and uproar in the yard did
not please the good dame, she directed Mary to come
from the door, and sit where she could neither see nor
be seen.
Not long after Mary had changed her place, a
woman came in a great hurry out of the street, to call
the widow to a person who had been taken suddenly
ill; in consequence of which, the mother was obliged
to leave the house. She had not left the court many
minutes, when Hannah Brown put her head in at the
door, exclaiming, So, old playfellow, you are there






Waste not, want not. 33


alone ? Well, I am glad of it; for I have a great
deal to say to you.
I want you to look at my gown," continued Hannah;


1. ~


" I put it on to-day to shew father; but it was bought
for the races; for we have always a sight of genteel
company at the races : besides, mistress lets me go to
the course once, if not twice, only I must be back a
little before the crowd, to get things ready against the
company comes in.






Waste not, want not.


And now tell me," proceeded the young .woman,
" how do you like being boxed up with the old lady ?
I would not be shut up as you are, in that dull place,
if you would give me all the world and such poor
gaining too as you have I should not wonder, if
you have never touched a farthing of the old lady's
money to this very day."
In this manner the talkative girl proceeded for a
long while; Mary, in the mean time, not answering a
single word, but blushing up to her eyes, as if it was
a shame to her to be kept close at home, and made to
mind her work, and improve herself.
You don't speak, Mary," remarked Hannah, after
she had stopped to take breath : and I don't wonder
that you are ashamed at the way in which your
mother treats you. Why, are you not seventeen and
more ? and yet you are kept up like a babe that does
not know its right hand from its left. Mother tells me,
you might have had the very same place as I am now
in. Why, Mary, I am sure, if I was to count up all
my gains since I was at the Sow,' it would not be less
than twelve good pounds: for I have bought this
gown that I have on my back, and the one I wcre






Waste not, want not.


last Sunday, and the yellow-striped one, and that with
large flowers."
0, stop, stop, Hannah," exclaimed Mary, quite
worked up into a fit of vexation;-" don't trouble me
with these long tales about your gowns. How can I
help your being so much better off than I am ? Must
not I do as my mother bids me ? "
"No," replied Hannah, steadily, and at the same
time setting her arms on her sides.
Why, what would you do if you were in my
place ? asked Mary.
Why, I would not wear such a gown, or such a
cap, or such an apron as you do," answered Hannah;
" but I would make the old lady come down with her
guineas; else I would let her understand, that I should
be looking out for a better service You have learned
a great deal, I doubt not, at the old lady's, for she is
mighty faddy, everybody says; and you are now fit
for a better place than hers: and if I was you, I
would tell her so, before I was a day older. And I
would go to the races too, that I would; and neither
she nor all the old women on the Hill should hinder
me: and that's what I would do."






Waste not, want not.


Mary looked thoughtful, and fretted; and Hannah
* went on: but as I suppose my reader has by this
time heard enough of her discourse, I shall relate no
more of what passed on the present occasion, but only
remark, that she continued talking to Mary, till one of
the brothers came to the door to tell her that the
widow was returning; on which she made off as quick
as she could, leaving Mary to suppose that she had set
her brother to watch, lest she should be surprised in
her neighbour's house.
The Widow Fairfield, when she returned, was so
full of the scene of distress which, she had just
witnessed, that she did not observe Mary's looks and
manners to be different from usual; and as it was quite
dusk when they walked together to Mrs. Shirley's, and
she had much to tell her daughter respecting the sick
person, the mischief that had been done still remained
a secret to the good woman. It was, however, as
much as Mary could do to refrain from bursting into
tears, and expressing her uneasiness; the words of
Hannah having sunk into her heart, and inclined her
to think that she was used harshly, and unnecessarily
deprived of pleasures and adimit:-,-:- allowed to others
of her age.






Waste not, want not.


Next day was that day of bustle, which occurred
every month in the house of Mrs. Shirley; a day when
all the clothes in the house were regularly subjected
to the various processes of rubbing, boiling, drying,
folding, and smoothing: a time when good Mrs.
Shirley was full of care, and, to speak the truth, now
and then somewhat peevish. Such things will happen
in all families, and servants in the most agreeable
places must expect them occasionally. But unfortu-
nately, Hannah Brown's discourse was no good pre-
paration for this trying period, and Mary was at this
time so very irritable, that when her mistress found
fault with her for slighting some piece of work, she
returned a very impertinent answer, and told her,
that if she could not give satisfaction, it would be
much better for them to part.
Mrs. Shirley really loved Mary, and believed her to
be a truly good girl: she was, therefore, much hurt
and shocked at her behaviour; and, busy as the day
was, she bade her put on her bonnet that moment,
and call her mother.
As Mary's passion had not yet cooled, she instantly
set off to run down the hill, resolving, as she went, to






Waste not, want not.


tell her mother that she would not be shut up any
longer with Mrs. Shirley, to receive no wages, and
nothing but affronts. But in proportion as she got
nearer her mother's house, the fear of her parent's dis-
pleasure cooled her courage; and had not she been
withheld by pride, she would have gone back to beg
her mistress's pardon. Indeed, I do not know whether
she would not have done so as it was, had she not
met with Grace Brown, who was standing in the road,
looking across the water at some men who were
building a booth on the race-ground.
Grace Brown no sooner espied Mary, than, setting
down a ragged child of about four years old, which
she held in her arms, she ;'-ip1..:.,:.l a step or two,
and bursting into a loud laugh, Why, Mary," she
said, whither away so fast ? how is old Madam ? I
wonder she is not afraid of trusting you so far by
yourself; or, mayhap, you may have made a stolen
march, and taken what they call thieves' liberty."
Mary now felt more ashamed to turn round and go
back than ever; and the consequence was, that she
went on, though she became every moment more and
more alarmed.






Waste not, want not.


Mary found her mother at home; and my reader
may be sure that she made the best of her own story,
and endeavoured to make it appear that her mistress
had been both unjust and cruel: and had the Widow
Fairfield been like many other mothers,-had she
taken her daughter's part, and promised to receive her
home as soon as she should leave her place,-she
would probably have ruined her prospects for life.
But this wise and good woman behaved on this occa-
sion as a mother ought to do, telling her daughter, that
unless she went back instantly, and begged her mis-
tress's pardon, she must never more expect any favours
from her. Thus cutting the matter short, she took
Mary by the hand, led her back to her mistress, and
did not leave her till she had made her beg pardon,
and confess her folly and ingratitude.
"And now, child," said this wise parent, as she took
leave of her daughter, I will tell you my opinion of
the place you have got;-that if I could afford it, so
far from asking wages from your mistress, I should
think three pounds a-year too little to offer her for her
kindness to you. Is she not giving you an education,
which, if it be not your own fault, may be the making






Waste not, want not.


of you for life ? If you waste or undervalue the ad-


vantages you have here, believe me, you will come to
want them hereafter: and if you rate the little trifle of"
money which Hannah Brown gets at the public-house,
above the care and instruction of your respectable mis-
tress, I shall count you henceforward more of a simple-
ton than ever I had reason to do through all the days
of your life before." So saying, the mother departed,
turning away without even allowing her child to kiss






Waste not, want not.


her; a thing which she had never before done within
her daughter's memory.
I rejoice to say, that this wise conduct of the mother
was, through the Divine blessing, highly beneficial to
her daughter, in settling her mind, and making her
contented; for, from this period till she was twenty
years of age, she lived with Mrs. Shirley; becoming,
after a while, as the old lady became more infirm and
helpless, more like a daughter than a servant. In the
meantime Mrs. Shirley offered to increase her wages
from three to four pounds; but as Mary knew that her
mistress had some difficulty in husbanding her little
income, she very handsomely refused to take any more;
"for," she remarked, you have been my best friend,
Madam, next to my mother ; and I hope that God
will give me a heart to be grateful."
But you must not think, Mary," returned the old
lady, that I shall be able to make you amends when
I die; for my income ceases then, as I have nothing
but a little annuity to live upon."
Mary wept when her mistress spoke to her in this
manner, for she had never thought of getting anything
when her mistress died, her mother never having put






Waste not, want not.


such thoughts into her head, and she herself being too
ignorant of the ways of the world to have conceived
any such expectation.
When her mistress perceived her tears, she was
sorry for what she had said; and holding out her
hand to her, she added, I have hitherto found you
a good girl, Mary, and I pray that I may never have
occasion to alter my opinion."
While Mary thus continued to serve her first good
mistress, Hannah Brown changed her place several
times. She grew so saucy to Mrs. Smith after the
second year, that her mistress gave her warning; and
she accordingly returned to her father's house with
some fine gowns and caps indeed, but without a shilling
in her pocket. Some weeks passed before she could
get another place; and as her hand was out for the
gloving business, she was obliged to pawn many of her
clothes to support herself: Ben Brown likewise being
at that time ill in his bed, and there being nothing to
maintain the family excepting what the mother earned.
At length Hannah got a pretty good place in Foregate-
street, and there she stayed a year, at the end of which
time her mistress gave her warning; and all the gain






Waset not, want not.


she could boast for this year's work was the redemp-
tion of her clothes from the pawnbroker's shop.
Thus three years and some odd months passed away,
and I think Hannah was then at home only a month;
during which, she renewed her acquaintance with the
pawnbroker, and afterwards was engaged by a
butcher's wife, not far from her father's house, where
she got plenty to eat, indeed, but lower wages than
she had had in any of her other places. In this last
situation, that is, as maid of all-work at the butcher's
shop, she was going on for the second year, when the
change took place which I am about to relate.
When Mary had been five complete years with
Mrs. Shirley, and had commenced her sixth year, she
one morning, to her great terror, found her mistress
cold and dead in her bed. At first, she did not sup-
pose that she was really dead, and called aloud to her
neighbours for help; but all help was va0ki, and she
was obliged to make up her mind to be parted from
one who was now become as dear to her as a parent.
The day before, she had been reading to her mistress,
and had led her round the garden, and heard her, for
the last time, speak of her Saviour, and the profitable-






Waste not, want not.


ness of holiness, not only in the world to come, but
also in this life. But that tongue, which had imparted
to her so much useful and holy instruction, was now
for ever silent; and Mary remembered, with bitter
sorrow, every little act of negligence and unkindness.
As soon as it was known that Mrs. Shirley was
certainly dead, the good lady's cousin whom I men-
tioned before, was sent for; and Mary remained in the
house till after the funeral, having been provided with
a. black stuff gown and mourning-cap, which Mrs.
Shirley's relation undertook to pay for herself, if it
should be found at the opening of the bureau, that
money enough had not been left to pay the ex-
penses.
Mary followed her dear mistress to the grave;
after which she returned to the house, which now
looked to her a solitary place indeed; for while the
remains only of her dear lady lay therein, she had
fancied it not quite forsaken. She slept as usual that
night in her little room, and not only cried herself
to sleep, but awoke in tears in the morning. Mrs.
Shirley's cousin had brought her own maid with her,
and therefore had no need of Mary's services; accor-






Waste not, want not.


dingly, after breakfast, she called her up into her
sleeping-room, and, giving her a letter, said, Here,
Mary, is your character; it was written only a week
ago, and is the dying testimony of your departed mis-
tress to your good conduct. I found it this morning
in the bureau, and inclosed in it five guineas, which
she desired might be given into your hands, together
with two printed calico gowns, and a bundle of her
old clothes, which were all marked for you. And
now, good girl, go back to your mother, and receive
my thanks for the comfort you have given for some
years past to my poor relation."
0 don't call me good, Madam," replied Mary,
quite overcome; I am not good-I have not done
my duty to my dear mistress; I have often been sulky
and unthankful; and now I feel my sin, and have
need to implore the pardon of God."
Mrs. Shirley's cousin shook Mary by the hand; and
the young woman, taking up her bundle and the five
guineas, having previously engaged a boy to carry her
box, went out of that house where she had spent five
blessed and happy years, in the acquirement of such
virtuous and industrious habits, as were a blessing to






Waste not, want not.


her through the whole course of her life, and such
instruction as, with the Divine favour, will promote
her everlasting happiness in the world to come. As
she passed through the garden, she plucked a rose
from her old mistress's favourite tree, and then walked
down the hill under the influence of a grief so deep
and sad, that even the last testimony of her 4Ristress's
love and bounty was, for the present, unable to :;iT. i
her any consolation.
Mary had restrained her tears in the street; but
when she came into her mother's house, she cast the
five guineas, which she had hitherto held in the palm
of her hand, upon the table, together with the bundle
she carried on her arm, and, without speaking a word,
threw herself into her mother's arms, and sobbed so
loud, that Grace Brown came running in to see what
was the matter.
Heyday !" she exclaimed, what's got the girl ?"
"Nothing, nothing," replied the Widow Fairfield:
"let her alone; she will be better presently. We must
allow a little time for her getting over her trouble."
Grace stood still, and looked at Mary's black gown,
saying, Poor thing, nothing but a trumpery stuff: it's






Waste not, want not.


enough to vex her, after being a slave so many years;







L I I











but it's all your doing, Neighbour Fairfield. I told
you, from the very first, how it would be. Why, every
one knew that the old lady had nothing but a 'nuity,
and scarce enough to keep her alive : and how could
you be such a fool as to keep the girl there, thinking
that she would get anything at her death ?-But wil-
ful folks will have their own way."
At this unfeeling speech, the widow looked up with






Waste not, want not.


amazement, and Mary was so struck, that she ceased
to sob.
Well," continued Grace, it's just what every one
expected: and I can't say but that I always rejoice
when greedy folks and long-sighted folks are dis-
appointed : and I hope, Mary, my lass, when you
look out for another place, you will demand creditable,
wages, and not depend on old ladies' favours for a
future time; for a bird in the hand is worth two in
the bush.'"
So saying, the busy-body was turning out at the
door, when her eye fell on the five sparkling golden
guineas, and at the same time she saw a corner of the
fine chintz pattern peeping out of the bundle. Had
she seen a serpent looking at her from the wall, she
could not have looked more astonished; and such was
the change in her countenance, and the fixed look of
her eye, that the widow naturally turned to see what
she was gazing at, and for the first time observed the
guineas.
0, my God, thou art very good," she exclaimed,
clasping her hands together : "this is what I did not
look for; this is indeed added over and above to all





Waste not, want not. 49


thy mercies." And while she stooped to gather up
the money from the low table, the waterman's wift
made off, and the widow was left alone with her
daughter.















CHAPTER III.


Mary at the Farmhouse-Early rising-Harvest-time-Welsh Patty-
An old acquaintance-Early instruction remembered Esther
Stephens-Suspicion aroused.

Mary had not been at home many weeks, however,
before her mother was informed by Butcher Oakes,
the person in whose house Hannah Brown then lived,
that there was a place vacant in a farm-house about
fourteen miles from Worcester, on the Herefordshire
side of the country; and from the character which the
butcher gave of the place, the widow did not doubt
that it might suit her daughter. Accordingly, having
enquired where Farmer Taylor put up on a market-day
-(for the old gentleman always kept Worcester market)
-she took occasion to see him, and shewed him the
letter of recommendation which had been left by her
daughter's late mistress: and when the farmer had
read it, and looked for a moment on Mary, he hired





Waste not, want not.


her without another word, excepting such as related
to the work that she was expected to do.
Mrs. Shirley had died in the early part of the
summer; and it was the end of August, when Mary
took leave of her mother, and set off to Hanley, the
parish in which her new master resided.
Mary had never been so far from home in her
life, and had seldom walked above two or three miles
at a time; so that when she found herself about four
miles from Worcester, she was not sorry to get into a
wagon.
Towards evening, after descending into a very deep
valley, and crossing the river Teme by a stone bridge,
the heavy carriage began to ascend on the other side;
and coming at length to a place where the road was
shaded on each hand by very tall trees, the old wa-
goner suddenly stopped his horses opposite to a stile
in the hedge which separated one of these woods
from the road. Then, pointing out a path which
wound away through the trees, he directed Mary to
get out of the wagon, saying, There, my lass, if you
are bound for Farmer Taylor's, you have no longer
any business with me; my way lies to the left yours





Waste not, want not.


to the right : follow yon pathway to the brook, cross


the brook by the wooden bridge; climb the piece you
will see beyond the brook; and you will then find
yourself at the very door of the house."
Mary presented the old wagoner with a shilling,
took off her bonnet, and placed her small box on her
head, and presently found herself all alone, in the
midst of a shadowy and beautiful wood; such a one
as she had never before seen. Having continued her






Waste not, want not. 53

walk sometime through this wood, she at length came
to the brook which the old man had mentioned; and
having crossed it by the bridge, she began to ascend a
steep pasture ground, scattered over with bushes;
among which, a number of milch cows were then
feeding. It was with difficulty that Mary, who had
been little used to labour out of doors, dragged herself
and her burden up the hill; but when she felt herself
almost exhausted, she was inspired with new energy
by a sight of the many-shafted and clustered chimneys
of the old farm-house, the gable-ends of which vener-
able tenement soon presented themselves to her, as she
ascended a little higher, frowning over the steep
ascent, and overlooking the mighty mass of woods,
which seemed to extend themselves over the whole
vale below. With another effort Mary gained the
top of the pasture ground, and found herself at the
entrance of a farm-yard, the house itself being ex-
tended in front of her. She entered the farm-yard
between a barn and a hay-rick, and the next moment
found herself in as busy a scene as any which her
native town could have supplied. The yard itself was
encompassed with barns, cow-houses, ricks, and stables;






Waste not, want not.


in one corner of it was a wagon laden with hay,
which a number of men were unloading to make a
rick; in another, a red-armed Welsh girl was feeding
a number of pigs; the farmer himself was standing
at the top of the rick, delivering his orders with a
voice as loud as a church-bell; and on a flight of steps
at the kitchen door, were the farmer's wife and mother,
the mother being a very old woman, trembling with
palsy, and the wife such a bustling, tight, and notable
dame, as could not easily be found in the present day.
The rest of the family, consisting of four great boys,
and two smart girls, the farmer's children, were, as it
afterwards appeared, all engaged in the hay-field.
When Mary presented herself, she was received
with much rough kindness by her mistress, who said,
she hoped that she would not belie her good character;
and as the next day was to be a busy one, she was bid to
take her supper and go to bed; the Welsh girl being
at the same time directed to shew her the bread-and-
cheese cupboard, and point out the way to the garret
in which she was to sleep.
While Mary was eating her supper at a long oaken
table, placed at onD end of the great kitchen of the






Waste not, want not.


farm-house, she ceased not to marvel at the white-
washed wall, the chimney, the long casement-windows
in their stone frames, with their small green panes, the
quantity of flitches of bacon hanging from the smoky
ceiling, the smell of wood smoke, and the old-fashioned
appearance of every piece of furniture which lay
within her notice. She was, however, so much tired,
that after the lapse of a short time, she was not
sorry to go to her bed. Accordingly she followed her
fellow-servant, whose language she did but half
understand, up two or three flights of stairs, and
through several long white-washed passages, into a
loft at the very top of the house, where she was to
sleep. This room, such as it was, was lighted by a
little sloping window in the roof, and the place smelt
so strongly of cheese and apples, that Mary felt she
should have been suffocated, had she not admitted the
fresh air by forcing open the casement, to the annoy-
ance of many spiders, who had spun their slender
webs across the opening. She was happy to find,
however, that she was to sleep here alone; and
though the room was dirty, and the bedding far from
clean, she trusted that she should be able to make






Waste not, want not.


such an amendment in both, as would soon render her
chamber a very comfortable place of rest.
Between four and five o'clock the next morning, all
the family was roused up : the farm-yard was all in a
bustle; the horses were put to the dray, and sent off
to the hay-field; and Mary heard the voice of her
mistress, calling her maids to come down immediately.
As Mary had gone to bed early, and had slept well,
she was already much refreshed; and while she stood
at the window to put on her clothes, she could not
but admire the beauty of the morning, as seen from
the eminence on which the house was situated. And
though little time was given her for prayer, yet in that
little she was enabled to lift up her heart to God, and
seek a blessing for the day. From the moment when
Mary first appeared before her mistress early in the
morning, till eight o'clock at night, she was in one
continued bustle. It was harvest-time, and she had to
fulfil the treble duties of house-maid, cook, and dairy-
maid, all of which offices were to be performed under
the superintendence of the mistress; who, though she
understood all branches of household work necessary
for persons in her situation, was so confused in the






Waste not, want not.


directions which she gave to her servants, that it was


- .,'." ,'i: ; "' ."


next to impossible for them to understand at first what
she would have them to do. Added to this, poor
Mary felt herself so entirely lost in the long passages,
wide cellars, vaults, larders, and dairies of the old
farm-house, and so puzzled with the odd names which
the mistress gave to the different things which were to
be used in the kitchen and dairy, that the poor girl
was quite in despair; and before the morning was






Waste not, want not.


half over, she heartily wished she had never under-
taken the place.
At twelve o'clock, the pork and beans being duly
boiled, and placed smoking on the long oaken board,
Mary was directed by her mistress to go to a
little hillock, on the brow of the hill which she
had ascended the day before, and call with all her
might, in order to collect the family to dinner ;
a business for which her quiet life with Mrs. Shir-
ley had very ill prepared her: however, she suc-
ceeded in making some of the family hear; and
presently the master, the sons and daughters, the ser-
vants and labouring people, all came crowding into the
kitchen, and sat down together at the board, the mas-
ter and mistress, and their children, being at the head
of the table. The meat and vegetables were followed
by an immense fruit pie, not a morsel of which- was
left. As soon as this course was ended, the master
rose, and the whole party returned to the fields, from
which they did not again come back till evening, when
another coarse and hearty meal was provided, and
every one retired to rest a little before ten o'clock.
This mode of life continued to the end, not only of the






Waste not, want not.


hay, but of the corn harvest; and during this time
Mary was heartily weary; but when this busy season
was over, she found her situation vastly more comfort-
able: and by arranging her work, she discovered that
it would be generally in her power to dress herself
neatly, and sit down to her sewing, a little before four
o'clock every afternoon; her especial business being to
clean the house, to wash and iron, and to wait on old
Mrs. Taylor, who was almost childish. In harvest
time it was the custom of the family to take their
meals all together; but on other occasions, the mistress
and her children generally sat in a small parlour,
within the kitchen, where they breakfasted and drank
tea. The rest of the family, except in harvest, con-
sisted only of the house-maid and dairy-maid, an old
man, in whom the farmer placed much trust, and a
plough-boy. The chief business of the dairy-maid was
to attend to those things which appertained unto her
dairy, but as the mistress directed all these concerns,
little skill was necessary; however, it was found that
the Welsh girl with red arms, of whom I before spoke,
would not even learn the little that was necessary for
her to learn, and as she was moreover very obstinate





Waste not, want not.


and impertinent, it was agreed that she should be sent
away; and the farmer promised his wife to seek after
another maid when he went to Worcester Michaelmas
Fair.
Mary was not sorry at the prospect of parting with
Welsh Patty, as her fellow-servant was commonly
called, for she never could understand either her
Welsh or her English; but she would not have been
grieved to have kept her a little longer, when on the
return of her master from the Michaelmas fair, he in-
formed his wife, in her presence, that Butcher Oakes
had recommended a servant to him, and that her name
was Hannah Brown.
"What sort of a girl is she?" asked Mrs. Taylor.
"A good, stirring girl," replied the farmer, though
I am almost afraid you will think her a little too
smart."
That is the fault of all the lasses in the present
day," remarked the farmer's wife; "but if she will
mind her dairy, I sha'n't quarrel with her about her
dress, for I am sure Patty is plain enough, yet I could
never make her understand any thing at all of her
work."






Waste not, want not.


Mary had not been unhappy at Farmer Taylor's
since the bustle of harvest had ceased. It is true, that
she did not enjoy such opportunities of instruction as
she had had in the house of her late excellent mistress;
for, though she went to church, in turn with the other
maid, once a fortnight, yet between these periods of
public worship, she heard no more of the Bible, or of
any thing belonging to it, than if there never had been
such a book in the world; neither was there any such
thing as family prayer at the farmer's, nor so much as
grace before or after meals. Nevertheless, Mary en-
joyed some sweet seasons on Sunday evenings, and on
many other occasions, when she retired for the night
to her little room at the top of the house; which by
means of airing and scouring, she had made a comfort-
able place. And often, when she went up to clean
herself after finishing the dirtiest part of her work, she
was filled with very sweet thoughts concerning the
Creator of all things, in contemplating the woods and
valleys spread beneath her, the cows feeding quietly
on the bankside, the dripping waters which ran down
the bottom of the dingle, and the blue hills beyond all
these. At such times, many delightful verses of Scrip-





Waste not, want not.


ture, and portions of hymns, which her dear mistress
























other verses to memory. Meanwhile, she was exact
in the performance of all her little duties, and she
found much quiet and comfort in pursuing her various
employment about the house, and in making every
thing appear as clean and creditable as possible she






Waste not, want not.


observed carefully all orders which were given her, and
did every thing precisely according to the directions of
her mistress. After the harvest, all of the farmer's chil-
dren had gone to school, with the exception of the two
elder boys, who helped their father in his work; and
this was a great comfort to Mary, for Miss Bessie and
Miss Dolly were so extremely rude and noisy, that the
house was vastly more agreeable when they were
from home. Thus Mary found herself much happier
than she at first expected she should have been; and she
was sorry when she heard that she was likely to have
such a companion as Hannah Brown, from whom she
might expect some evil, but could hope for nothing good.
At length the day arrived when Welsh Patty was
to go away; and Hannah Brown arrived with her
father, Brown Ben, the same evening.
So smart a figure as Hannah's had not been seen at
the farm for some time; and when Mrs. Taylor first
looked upon her, she said to her, that she feared she
would find her long trains somewhat in the way in the
dairy.
Hannah replied, that she had proper dresses for
work as well as for going out; and answered, that she





Waste not, want not.


knew the management of the dairy as well as any
country girl in Worcestershire, having been well in-
structed by Mrs. O.akes.
"Well, we shall see," answered the farmer's wife;
" but you will be so good as to cut off some of those
tails to your gown, and lay aside some of your top-
knots, or you will never do for me, or I for you; for I
don't see how six guineas a year are to provide all
these things."
Hannah made no answer; for it suited her at that
time to try to please Mrs. Taylor; and having made a
courtsey, she came out of the little parlour into the
kitchen, where Mary was enquiring of old Brown
concerning her many former friends and neighbours at
Worcester.
Well, old acquaintance," said Hannah, as she came
out of the parlour, so here we are met again at the
world's end: did ever any one see such a wilderness
as this? such banks to climb, and such wild places to
go through Why, I thought I should have torn the
very clothes off my back in coming through the piece
just below. But don't you find it very dull ? she
added, looking round the wide kitchen.






Waste not, want not.


Before Mary could reply, Brown Ben informed his
daughter that he was going; and the father and
daughter went out together through the fold-yard.
It was some minutes before Hannah returned; and
then, setting herself down by Mary, who was engaged
with her needle, she asked her how she liked her place;
saying, that for her part, had she had any idea of its
being such a wild, out-of-the-way country, she would
never have come into it. Though," added she, I
am heartily tired of the town, and was glad to get
anywhere to be out of it." The truth was, that her
name was not much esteemed in the town, and it was
not very easy for her to get a place in it; but of this
she said nothing to Mary : and the mistress having
desired Mary to direct the new-comer in her work,
and to teach her a little of the ways of the house, she
lost no further time in talking with Hannah, but
shewed her into the dairy and pantry, and all those
places in which her business lay.
By the little Mary saw this evening of Hannah
Brown, she was convinced that she was not improved,
and was very thankful that she herself should have so
little to do with her in the way of her work. How-






Waste not, want not.


ever, as Hannah was her towns woman, she wished
to keep on friendly terms with her ; and sometimes it
came into her head, that perhaps it might be possible
to do her good by speaking to her on religious subjects,
now that she was, as she trusted, so far removed from
ill company and bad example. But Mary did not
know that those who love bad company are never
long in finding or making such companions as they
like; and that although she herself, since she came to
Hanley, had seen no persons but such as behaved
themselves decently and properly, yet there were not
wanting many in the parish who could conduct them-
selves in a very contrary way.
Just at the bottom of the dingle, and near where the
brook fell as much as five yards from the summit to
the foot of a rock, was a thatched cottage, where
dwelt an old woman and her son. The son seemed to
be a tidy young man, and was employed about the
farm. Mary had often seen him, but had seldom
spoken to him. The old woman, however, who was
called Esther Stephens, seemed to lie under the
suspicion of Mrs. Taylor, for she was forbidden to
come near the house, and the mistress had more than





Waste not, want not.


once advised Mary to have nothing to say to her: and
as Mary did not wish for any acquaintance, it was not
difficult for her to observe the admonition. But Han-
nah Brown had not been a week at the farm, before
Mary, early one morning, saw her, from the window
of her little room, talking to this poor body, as she
was going out to milk in the piece near the cottage:
and, more than this, Mary saw her take something
from her pocket, and give it to this woman. This was
the only thing which Mary thought very suspicious in
Hannah during the first month of their being together;
though she certainly feared she was an exceedingly
bold and forward girl, having something free to say to
everyone, and some joke to pass with every person
who came within her hearing. Hannah was, however
active and bustling in her work, and pleased her mis-
tress well; who said, she had nothing to complain of
but her long sleeves, and the tails to her gowns. But
as Hannah consented to have a linsey petticoat and
bed-gown, to do her hard work in, and only desired
leave to wear her finery on Sunday, Mrs. Taylor
seemed to be satisfied, and all things went on well for
a while. In the meantime, Mary never found any op-





68 Waste not, want not.


portunity of entering into discourse with her fellow-
servant on those subjects, which through the Divine
blessing on her parent's care, and the instruction of her
late mistress, were ever present to her own mind.
However, the two young women seemed to agree
pretty well when they met together, though, as their
meetings were generally in the presence of their mis-
tress, there was the less wonder that two so entirely
different, should be enabled to rub on for a time with-
out any open disagreements.














CHAPTER IV.


Eye-service-Mrs. Taylor's affliction-A faithful servant-A gentle re-
proof-William Stephens-Hannah's extravagance-The widow's
visit to her daughter-Hannah runs off with a Showman-Mary
is married to William Stephens-Hannah's unhappy death.

IT was some time after Michaelmas, when Hannah
Brown entered Mrs. Taylor's service: and during the
following winter things went on pretty well, the eye
of the mistress being constantly on the new servant;
but the winter having been a very severe one, the
mistress was seized in the spring with a violent rheu-
matic complaint, which confined her to her bed, and
filled her with trouble, because she could no longer
watch her maids, and see that all went on rightly and
properly in the dairy and kitchen. The rheumatism
is seldom a fatal complaint, but it is a painful one;
and the pain that attends it is a monitor, which, if
rightly attended to, may teach many valuable lessons.
But poor Mrs. Taylor seemed to have no idea of






Waste not, want not.


improving her affliction, all her thoughts, during her
confinement to her bed, being occupied about her
dairy and kitchen; and she was constantly sending for
her maids, to question them, and give them fresh
directions. Neither did she seem to know which of
the two she could best trust: for, as she remarked
the one was so silent, and the other so full of fine
talk, that she feared they had neither of them much
good in their minds. However, she could not help
herself; neither was her husband's mother able to
help her, for the old lady was lately become quite
childish.
In the mean time it was Mary's wish to go on just
as usual, and to observe all her mistress's rules,
whether of great or little importance :-and she
hoped, that when her mistress should recover, she
would find things as she had left them. Difficulties,
however, arose, which she had'not foreseen, and under
which she did not know how to act. The farmer
himself was obliged to be much from home, and when
he was out, Hannah had full rule of the kitchen, and
full command of the milk, the cream, the butter, the
cheese, the bacon, and the eggs; and the first bad use






Waste not, want not.


which Mary perceived that she began to make of her
liberty was, that she invited one and another of the
labouring men to come and eat in the kitchen, regaling
them with the best she had.
When Mary had observed this once or twice, she
thought it was but her duty to mention it to her-" I
do not speak, Hannah," she said," of the trouble which
you may bring upon us both by this thing, for it will
surely be found out; but I wish to point out to you
that we have no right to give away what does not
belong to us." And Mary ventured to say a word or
two on the subject of the fear of God, which ought to
rule the actions of every servant, as well as every
master.
Hannah, who was skimming her cream in the dairy,
while Mary thus addressed her, heard her out without
speaking one word: and then, turning sharp upon her,
while her cheeks were crimsoned with passion, Now,
Mary," she replied, go and repeat all you have just
now said to the mistress, and let her see how spiteful
you religious folks can be : but mind this, if you do,
I'll be revenged upon you, as sure as my name is
Hannah Brown."






Waste not, want not.


It was not, and is not, my intention to say a word
to the mistress, Hannah, respecting what is past,"
returned Mary; but I make no promise for the time
to come: so you now know what you have to trust
to."
I do," replied Hannah; and now, Mistress Mary,
please to walk out of the dairy."
Mary did as she was desired; but as she was going
through the long passages which led from the dairy to
the kitchen, she met William Stephens, the son of
Esther, who was one of those .that had been most
often feasted in the farmer's kitchen since the mistress
had been confined to her room.
Mary had not been able to check a few tears which
had started into her eyes when thus unkindly answered
by Hannah: and William, observing these tears,
asked her the cause of them; expressing in his rough
way, a hope that no harm had come to her.
Since you asked, William," returned Mary, I
will tell you what has troubled me." And she
repeated all that had passed between herself and
Hannah; adding, Now William, I only wish that
you, for one, would not be drawn in to do wrong.






Waste not, want not.


Do keep out of the kitchen, and just do as you
would if mistress was about. I am sure, even as far
as this world goes, it is always best to do right: and
then, as to the next, there can be no question but that
he who has loved his Lord most, will be the best off
in the world to come."
The ruddy face of the young man became of a four-
fold deeper red as Mary spoke; and he gave her a
look, of which she could make nothing at all, either
good or bad; but she observed, that from that period,
during all the illness of her mistress, he never once
again set his foot in the kitchen. From this day there
was not quite so much junketting in the farmer's
kitchen by broad day-light, as there had been before
Mary had spoken to Hannah; notwithstanding which,
Mary did not feel herself at all the more assured that
things were going on well. There was one circum-
stance which she particularly observed, and this
was, that pieces of beef, and pork, and bacon, some-
times appeared for once on the table, and then never
again. She also found may bits of broken crusts, dry
and mouldy, in different parts of the kitchen and
wash-house. She saw drops of milk set aside in






. Waste not, want not.


various cups and basons; and perceived other signs of
waste, which I have not room to mention. Why,
Hannah," said she, one day, to her fellow-servant, as
she put together some bits of broken meat and bread,
left on the plates after dinner, I remember the time
when mother and I should have been glad of these
bits; I wonder you should give the man and the boy
so much at one time; it's tempting them to be
wasteful; here's enough in these plates to keep a
hearty man for a day."
Hannah, who was taking a kettle of water off the
fire to wash her dishes, looked round her as Mary
spoke, and said, You had best take up those bits and
shew them to mistress, and tell her how ill I manage
her affairs."
I wish you would not answer in such a scornful
way," returned Mary; surely I may speak to you,
Hannah, if I use no ill language; but the truth is, I
don't love waste, neither of my own things, nor of
another's. I often think of a saying, which was
sometimes in my mother's mouth, to wit, Wilful
waste makes woful want:' and I often fancy that there
is never a bit of food wasted, in a wilful manner,






Waste not, want not.


which may not hereafter come to be wanted by the
very person who threw it away. Now look you here,
Hannah; here is a dish of broken meat, enough to
dine a couple of grown persons; it cannot now be
eaten by decent persons, because it has been thrown
about and gnawed: and yet I will tell you what,
Hannah, I think it more than probable that you
yourself may come to be glad of such a dish."
And why so ? said Hannah; and why am I
more likely to come to want than you, Mrs. Mary,
with all your fine talk ? "
Because you are wasteful," replied Mary, and
always have been so ever since I knew you; spending
all before you, and taking no thought for the time to
come, not even trying to lay up for yourself a good
name, which might serve when every thing else was
gone."
And pray," asked Hannah, why is not my name
as good as yours ? I"ll tell you what," she added,
snatching the plate from her hand, I wish you would
go up stairs, and mind your sewing; and not meddle
with things which don't belong to you."
"Hannah," returned Mary, I don't meddle with





Waste not, want not.


what does not belong to me : were I to let you waste
my master's goods without speaking a word, I might
be set down as an accomplice in your fault. He that
is partner with a thief, is all the same, as to guilt, as
the thief himself."
Ay !" exclaimed Hannah; "surely you don't
mean to call me a thief ?"
"By no means," replied Mary, "I had no such
thought; I only warned you against being wasteful.
And I do entreat you, my dear Hannah, to listen to
me, and avoid these practices, which lead to ruin."
She then proceeded to say something on the impor-
tance of endeavouring to please God, and the happi-
ness of those who are early led to seek him; but
Hannah suddenly interrupted her by opening the
kitchen-window, and throwing out the whole contents
of the plate of broken meat upon a dunghill, or heap
of ashes, which lay just under it.
This window of the kitchen was on that side of the
house which was least frequented, and opened into a
narrow lane, that passed from a gravel-pit to the
turnpike-road, a lane which was seldom used, except-
ing by carts going for gravel. This was, therefore, a





Waste not, want not.


convenient place for throwing out all that offended


from the kitchen; and the present collection of bones,
meat, and crusts, was not the first which had been
cast upon the dunghill by Hannah, and others of the
farmer's servants who had gone before her.
Mary was startled at the quick motion of Hannah,
and was not the less surprisedwhen the young woman
turning to her said, Are not you much obliged to
me, Mrs. Mary ? have not you got something to tell of






.Waste not, want not.


me now ? Why don't you go up to the mistress, and
let her know at once what a vile hussy she has in her
house ?"
Mary stood still a moment, hesitating what she
should do; not knowing whether she ought to again
try persuasion with Hannah, or at once tell all her
misdemeanours to her mistress; when suddenly a gentle
tap was heard at the kitchen-door, and Mary's mother
walked in.
Mary would have rejoiced to have seen her mother
at any time, but she was particularly well pleased to
see her at this moment, when she stood in so much
need of advice, and the widow was not less pleased to
meet her daughter. But Hannah Brown looked a
little shy of her old neighbour, and walked off to her
dairy, without so much as offering the poor woman a
bit of bread.
The widow was not, however, without a welcome;
for the mistress, being told that she was come, sent to
see her, and kept her at the farm as much as a week;
for she fancied that she had a better method of hand-
ling her swollen limbs than any other person she had
tried. And so pleased was she with her, on further






Waste not, want not.


acquaintance, that she invited her to come again in
harvest-time.
While the widow was at the farm, Mary took occa-
sion to tell her of the trouble she was in about the
waste and destruction in the kitchen; and she asked
her mother, whether it was not her duty to tell her
mistress of what she had seen amiss.
The widow gave her opinion, that it is always
wrong to conceal sin, and by so doing to give en-
couragement to what is amiss. But," added she,
" before we tell of the poor sinful girl, let us make one
more trial to set her right. I will take occasion to
talk with her, and to lay before her the sin of her
conduct; and perhaps the Almighty may bless my
endeavours." Accordingly, the good woman followed
Hannah into her dairy the same evening, and there
held a long and affectionate discourse with her.
She took occasion to lay before her the nature of
man's fallen state on earth, and to explain the remedy
provided by God the Father for the restoration of his
lost creatures. She shewed how man had been at
first made innocent, and how he had rendered himself
corrupt; and she pointed out the consequences which






Waste not, want not.


must surely follow, if he obey the dictates of his
corrupt inclinations. She endeavoured also to make
Hannah understand that the only means of obtaining
peace on earth, and happiness above, is faithfully to
love and serve the holy Saviour.
There is no good thing, my dear Hannah," said
the widow, "such as is needful for the servants of
God in this world, which they do not enjoy; neither
is anything withheld from them but what would be
injurious: and whoever is persuaded of this truth,
will be content with his lot, and never endeavour to
appropriate to his own use the good things which
belong to another, nor permit himself in any waste,
being well assured, that he will be called to account'
for all such extravagance, if not in this world, yet in
that which is to come."
In this manner did the good woman discourse with
Hannah, entreating her earnestly to take heed to the
concerns of her soul; and beseeching her, in the most
affectionate manner, to refrain from all those low and
underhand proceedings, by which masters and
mistresses are impoverished and servants brought to
ruin.






Waste not, want nt.


Hannah, however, said little in reply to Mrs. Fair-
field; though certain it is that from that time she was
more cautious of what she did in the presence of
Mary.
At the end of a week Mrs. Fairfield returned to
Worcester, and Mrs. Taylor began to be about again,
though it was a long time before she was as active as
before her illness. It was not Mary's business to
watch her fellow-servant; and as nothing came
directly before her eyes, she hoped that Hannah was
really become more faithful towards her master : but
one evening, just at that time of the year when the
sun sets about six o'clock, as she was sewing in the
window of her garret, which overlooked the whole
garden at the back of the house, she saw Hannah go
quietly down a grass walk, that ran in a line with the
hedge, and enter into an arbour at the bottom,
whence she presently returned, pretending as she
walked along, to be looking out for something growing
in the beds. Mary would have thought the less of
this, if, a few minutes or a quarter of an hour after-
wards, she had not seen Esther Stephens come creeping
up the bushy piece so often mentioned before, and






Waste not, want not.


advance to the corner of the garden behind the arbour;
and as the evening became every moment more dusk,
she saw no more of her.
Mary, however, resolved that she would disturb
these people, if they were about any mischievous
scheme; and, accordingly, that same evening she told
her mistress, in the presence of Hannah, that she had
seen Esther Stephens creeping about the garden-hecdge,
and she only hoped that she was about no mischief.
You may be sure," replied the mistress, that she
was about no good; for she is one of the most dis-
honest bodies in the country round."
Hannah had taken no visible notice of Mary while
she spoke, but Mary observed that she was particularly
sulky with her all the next day: and as she never saw
Hannah walk down to the arbour again in the dusk,
she hoped, that if there had been any mischief, she
had put an end to it. From that time till harvest,
every thing seemed to go on pretty smoothly: Mary's
year was up in the middle of harvest, and she received
five guineas, and agreed to stay another year for six.
Of these five guineas she was enabled to send two to
her mother, to put to the five pounds which had been






Waste not, want not.


left her by her late mistress; and with them she sent
her mother two pairs of woollen stockings of her
own knitting, and one or two other little presents.
I must not conceal from my reader, that when Mary
found she was worth seven guineas, she began to think
very highly of herself, and once or twice answered
her mistress rather impertinently; but her excellent
mother, happening to arrive about this time, made her
beg pardon of her mistress, and laid before her the
ingratitude of such conduct, both towards God and
man, in colours so strong, that Mary became thoroughly
humble and ashamed of herself.
During the bustle of harvest, it was observed that
Hannah had become much more impertinent to her
mistress, and had taken less and less pains to please
her. She had contrived too, during the year, by little
and little, to get all her wages from her master : and
on the Saturday before the Hanley Wake, she got a
few more shillings from him, on pretence of paying a
woman whom she was to see at church, for some wool
which she had been spinning for the boy's stockings.
It was Hannah's turn to go to church on the Wake
Sunday: and she asked Mary to milk the cows for






Waste not, want not.


her in the evening, and to put the new milk in the
pans, in order to give her time to enjoy herself. To
all this Mary consented; and she went out at the usual
hour, with a pail on her head. In the bushy piece,
where the cows were, she met William Stephens, who






















How comes it, William," asked Mary, that you
are not at the wake."






Waste not, want not.


The young man coloured. "Because," he answered,
"I am beginning to have some.thoughts about these
things, which I never had before. Our parson, to be
sure, is a good man," continued William; and when
I have been at church, I have thought, sometimes,
how desperately wicked we all are: but, somehow,
none of these things took much hold upon me till I
met you that day in the passage, and you dropped
that word about honesty, -and the duty of us servants,
and the blessing of God; and since that, I have wished
to do better, and have said a deal to my mother about
her ways."
Mary made some answer to William, by which she
endeavoured to encourage him in his wishes to do well:
and they then parted.
The great clock in the kitchen had struck ten before
any of those who had been at the wake were at home
again. The farmer himself was the foremost, and the
first question he asked was, Where's Hannah ? "
Why, at the wake, is she not ?" returned the
mistress.
No," replied the farmer, I have not seen her all
the evening."





Waste not, want not.


A general enquiry was then set on foot concerning
the absentee, but no one could give any account of her:
nor was it till several days afterwards, that it was
discovered she went off with a number of people who
travelled about the country with a show, one of whom
had m.tde acquaintance with her, nobody knows how,
and nobody knows when, though it is pretty certain
that Esther Stephens, who sometimes went about the
country telling fortunes, had helped her in keeping up
the connexion.
After the departure of Hannah, many changes took
place at the farm. The old mother of the farmer died,
and the two daughters came home from school. Mary
undertook the dairy-work and the cooking, and got
another guinea a-year; and, the mistress continuing to
be rheumatic, and her daughters fit for nothing in a
useful way, much fell on the hands of this good young
woman; which, when her mother saw, she left the
city, and came to live near the farm: not that she
might gain any advantages through her daughter's
means, but that she might, from time to time, uphold
her in well-doing.
Mrs. Taylor found no small difference as to expense,






Waste not, want not.


between Mary's housekeeping and that of poor Han-
nah Brown; for Mary encouraged no idle persons to
come about the house for what they could get; though
she was ever willing to plead for the needy, and to
make the best of any thing which was allowed for
soup or broth for the poor.
By her mother's management, Mary contrived to
put by a few guineas every year, and when she had
lived about seven years with Mrs. Taylor, she had
saved as much as 201. and had a decent stock of
linen, and other garments of a plain kind into the
bargain.
About this time, old Esther Stephens dying, Mary
was married to William, who, for many years past,
had been enabled to lead a respectable life. The old
cottage by the brook was repaired, the garden cleaned
up and planted, the walls whitewashed, and Mary and
William, having put a little money together to buy
furniture, the young couple found themselves as com-
fortably settled as they could ever have had reason ta
expect. Mary's excellent mother also became an
inhabitant of the cottage, and, by her piety and indus






Waste not, want not.


try, did all in her power to advance the temporal and
spiritual happiness of her children.
William and Mary had been married two years,
and had been blessed with one little healthy girl,
when Mary, as was frequently the case, was one day
sent for to the farm, and directed to occupy the place
of the dairy-maid, who had been taken suddenly ill.
Mary, who was always at; home in the old kitchen, or
dairy, was exceedingly busy ,with her work, when
suddenly she heard the cry of a child, which, though
faint, and not at all resembling the voice of her own
baby, which had been left with its grandmother,
filled her with some such painful feelings as mothers
only know. She immediately ran to the yard-door,
expecting to ,see some poor beggar, with an infant in
her arms : but, seeing no such person, she returned to
her work, and had been busied with it some time,
when another faint cry reached her ear, and she
now was aware that the sound proceeded from the
end of the kitchen where the old casement-window
opened upon the private road which led to the
gravel-pit.





Waste not, want not.


Being directed by the sound, she ran to the window,
and, throwing it open, saw a miserable, ragged woman
lying on the dunghill or ash-heap, which the slovenly
habits of country life still left under the window, and
which had greatly increased in magnitude since Mary
had ceased to preside over the kitchen of the farm.
The unhappy stranger had laid her head upon the
ashes, and misery and death were painted on such
parts of her hollow cheeks, and sunken features, as
were visible to Mary.
Near the head of this miserable creature, and on
the top of the heap of rubbish, lay a wretched infant,
pale and meagre; and though evidently as much as
fourteen or sixteen months old, unable to support itself
in an erect posture. Its little hands were busy in col-
lecting such refuses of food as the careless servants had
thrown out of the window along with the dust and
litter of the house; and at the moment in which
Mary opened the casement, the little thing was
conveying to its mouth a blackened and mouldy
crust.
What do you want ? asked Mary, as she opened
the window, and looked down on the wretched






Waste not, want not.


stranger. Good woman, have you no home ? has
this poor infant no father ? what can have reduced
you to this wretched condition ? "
As she spoke, the woman looked up, and uttered a
heavy groan, while the child renewed its faint and
miserable cry.
The mistress was not in the house; but Mary knew
she would never suffer any one to die for want at her
door: she therefore took a porringer of soup, from the
kettle of the same which was boiling over the fire, and
breaking some bread into it, went to the wretched
wanderers.
She tried to rouse the woman; but she had turned
her face in such a direction that Mary could not obtain
a view of it, neither could she get her to utter a word.
She hastened, therefore, to cool the broth, and feed the
child, who received it with the eagerness of one ready
to perish: and while she was thus employed, some of
the men-servants came up, and at the entreaty of Mary
carried the miserable woman to an out-house, where
they laid her on straw.
As Mary always kept herself clean and decent, she
felt some unwillingness to lift up the miserable baby






Waste not, want not.


from the ash-heap; but while


she hesitated, and the


unhappy little creature held out its arms to be carried
after its mother, she remembered these words of the
prophet Ezekiel, None eye pitied thee, to do any of
these unto thee, to have compassion upon thee; but
thou wast cast out in the open field, to the loathing of
thy person;" (Ezek. xvi. 5,) and when she recollected
them, she took up the baby, and carried it after its
mother





Waste not, want not.


Can it be doubted, by any one who has read this
history, who this miserable woman was whom Mary
found gasping on ,an ,ash-heap; and whose child was
glad to appease its hunger where dogs would almost
have refused to feed ?
This unhappy woman was Hannah Brown:; but as
she expired within a very few hours of her arrival at
the farm, and as the use of speech was denied her
during that time, it was never known how she had
spent the .seven years of her absence from the farm,
nor who was the father of her miserable child. Han-
nah died in Farmer Taylor's out-house, and was com-
mitted to the dust in as humble and private ,a way as
possible.
The poor infant was taken home by Mary and
William; and they had just resolved to keep him with
their own, and do the best they could for him, when
Farmer Taylor informed them that the parish were
willing to give them two shillings a week fbr his keep
and that the lady of the manor, having heard the
story, had determined to add another shilling a week
to that sum, and promised to send the little orphan a
coat every year.






Waste not, want not. 93


Several years are past since the death of Hannah
Brown; but the good widow and her family are still
living in the cottage by the brook, and the blessing of
heaven is shed on all its inhabitants : for I have
been young, and now am old: but never did I
see the righteous forsaken, nor his seed 1. ii
bread!"


4 AS







A PRESENT FOR THE LITTLE ONES.
Thirteen Engravings, printed on Toned Pafer, rice is. 6d. ;
gill edges, 2s. 6d.
THE

LITTLE WOODMAN,
AND HIS
DOG CESAR.
BY MRS. SHERW OOD.











Wlm the "' '.. ''.
,! i -. .. - . "_ . .. i-. .
CONTENTS: TP IT.. ,r>ot and his Seven Sons-Their Early History-A Tree
falls on the ( i .. Advice to his Sons-They all mock him except Little
William, the Youngest, who comforts the Old Man -An Interesting History-The
Elder Brothers and the King's Deer-Three Days' Journey into the Forest -Casar
left Behind-A Place where Four Ways meet-William's Beautiful Prayer-WVilliam
is left in the Wood by his Wicked Brothers- A Joyful Surprise-Caesar comes in
Time-The Fight between the Wolf and Caesar-Casar's Triumph, and Little
William placed in Safety -The Kind Old Woman in the Wood, who turns out to be
Little William's Grandmother-William becomes a Man, and meets with Six
Miserable-looking Men, who turn out to be his I ... 1 I Brothers-William has an
Opportunity of Retaliation, but overcomes I .1 ..il. Good-He makes himself
Known-All's VWell that Ends Well.


The History of Susan Gray,

As related by a Clergyman.
BY MRS. SHERWOOD.
CONTENTS : The Rector's Visit to the Sick Room-Susan's account of Herself-A
Visit to Mrs. Neale-A Profitable Conversation-Goes to School-A Seasonable
Gift-Susan's first Place-The Fashions at Ludlow-Charlotte Owen and the
Soldiers-The Captain's Shirts-The Silk Dress-The 7 -. : in the Lane-Snares
and Temptations-Virtue and Vice-Persecution-A .. Quarrel-Slander-A
Happy Sunday-Mrs. Bennet's Deception-Susan's Flight-laymaking-Susan's
Deathbed.
LONDON:
S. W. PARTRIDGE & CO., 9, PATERNOSTER ROW.




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