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CHAPTER IX.

Over the mountain, and over the moor,
Hungry and barefoot, I wander forlorn;
My father is dead, and my mother is poor,
And she grieves for the days that will never return.

OUR traveller was just about to mount his horse, when his attention was arrested by an object that excited much interest in him. It was a youthful female, meanly attired, but, beautiful in the extreme: she wore an old straw hat, faded scarlet cloak, russet stuff gown, and shoes that had once been perfect; yet, did her native charms break through the rags, in which they were enveloped, like a full-blown rose, showing it's lovely head amidst surrounding thistles.

"Indeed, sir, my tale is true!" said she, in a voice that sunk to the soul of Philip;

"here is a certificate of the case, from the parson of our parish. My beloved father fell in battle, at Aboukir, under the gallant Nelson; and my poor mother, and my wretched self, were journeying toward London, to receive our portion of the sum raised by the grateful countrymen and women of those brave men, who died in their defence, when, between sorrow and fatigue, she was taken ill, in this town; and the little stock with which we started, was consumed. Still does my parent languish on the bed of sickness; and I have no alternative, but to beg for her, or see her perish.-Oh! then, dear gentleman, as you hope for mercy, hereaf ter, have some on me! and contribute a trifle, to nourish the weak frame of her who gave me being !"

This pathetic appeal was made to a little burly-faced man, in a blue coat, and a scarlet waistcoat, with a gold binding; and whose countenance denoted a heart, destitute of every social virtue.

"Hold your jabber," said he, " I'll hear no more of your flummery, and your lies. I

am too much used to these here kind of doings, to be so easily imposed upon; and them people, as sent you to me, was very ill advisers. I am a justice of the peace, and the duty of my station bids me to commit all such vagrants, as you are, to the house of correction."

Friend," cried a mild voice, from the opposite side of the street, "it is every man's duty (no matter what his station may be) to relieve the distress'd-particularly, a helpless female."

"Trouble your head with your own af fairs," said the justice: "you have no more right, old Primrose, to offer for to dictate to me, than I have to unblock your beaver, which you would not much thank me for, I believe."

"Thou dost argue like a man who lacketh certain materials, called brains," return'd the other, who was a quaker; "the snow of time is sprinkled on thy pate, but the wisdom of age doth not enlighten thy understanding. Come hither, fair damsel; I will administer to thy pecuniary wants, and there

is One above, who, peradventure, will soon extract the arrow that now rankles in thy gentle bosom.”

The female totter'd across the street, and Philip observed, with extreme regret, that her footsteps left the print of blood behind. them; for, her shoes were old, and her delicate feet were mangled with travelling.

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What, you mean to assist the beggar, do you?" still higher elevating the tip of his turn-up nose, cried the justice.

Yea, I do, Friend Adamant, in spite of thee. Here, damsel, is a small bit of gold, called an half-guinea--and may the angel of peace soon revisit thee.”

She held out her hand, to receive the good man's donation, (whilst the tear of gratitude bedew'd her pallid cheek) but, it trembled so violently, that she let it fall.

"You see," observed Adamant, with a sneer," your charity is useless; she can't hold it fast, but has dropt it."

"I do; and I perceive, moreover, that it hath rolled into that from whence thou didst spring-namely, the kennel."

"Vat! bless ma soul! have you got so

much monies, as to let it run into de kennel?" cried an old Jew, picking up the coin, and putting it into his pocket. "Dat is making ducks and drakes of it, vid a vengeance!"

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But, you have made shift to pick it up, and have put it in your pocket, though it is all over mud and dirt,” said Adamant.

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Yes, I did take it up, I don't deny it— and I did put it in ma pocket--and vat den? -I do hope you vill never pocket any gold, vat may be got in a dirtier vay, vid all my heart!"

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Silence, fellow, and don't prate,' said the angry justice, with much self-consequence. "I know you-you are a Jewthere's no mistaking any of you. you."

"Tank you! tank you!" replied the Levite. "I do know dat many humane Christians do say, dere is a mark set on all Jews, and you may know 'em by der countenance. Now, vid submission, dere is a mark on your's, dat, I tink, vould hang you in any court in England-it is, vat you call, a tamn'd unfeeling mark, and, if dis poor girl's tears had not half-plinded her, she

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