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CRUELTY OF THE GIPSY.

187

quest, she tried to run after it herself, and as she was pursuing it behind one of the many statues which adorn the gardens, a tall woman with glaring black eyes had started out, caught her up in her arms, and ran off with her as quickly as possible; at the same time covering her mouth with her dirty brown hand só tightly as almost to stifle her, in order that she might not cry out for help. My poor little girl tells me, that from that day she went through the most shocking hardships; that the horrid Gipsy used to beat her dreadfully, if she did not perform tasks which were much too hard for her possibly to accomplish; that she stripped all her own nice clothes off, and dressed her in filthy rags; that she used to make her walk miles and miles with her about the country, till her feet used to bleed, and till she was obliged to drop down by the road-side and cry for very weariness; and that she never gave her sufficient food to eat.

This cruel usage was all because my child would never obey her in two things; no threats, no entreaties, could prevail upon her either to beg or steal; both of which this wicked wretch wanted her do, and had stolen her for the purpose. At last my poor little Julie found an opportunity of escaping from the power of this horrid fiend : she ran away, but she had not wandered far, when she would have perished for want of food and protection, had she not met with you, my kind good little boy, to support her in her misery, and at last to conduct her to the arms of her sorrowing father. May God Almighty bless and reward you for it, and render your parents as happy as the possession of so good a son ought already to make them and as he deserves they should be. But I have forgotten all this time to ask your name, my brave boy. Twice in her life have I

189

DISCOVERY OF MR. BÉLIARD.

nearly lost my darling. Her first preserver I entirely lost sight of; but you, her second deliverer, must receive the reward due to one who has rendered so im. portant a service to the now happy Béliard.

Béliard! Béliard! that's it!" exclaimed John, utterly regardless of the gentleman's question; “I knew I should remember it if I once heard it. And is Béliard really your name, sir ?" added he, eagerly.

“Certainly, my little friend," answered the gentleman, astonished; "and what then ?” “And you say. you nearly lost your little Julie twice in her life? o, it must be, it must be! O, my dear, dear mother! my dear mother!" exclaimed John, nearly crying with joy, as he started from his chair and ran to the window, just as if he could have really looked out towards his own house and his dear mother.

The gentleman, amazed at this strange behavior of the little boy's, asked him what he meant by his exclamations, and also reminded him that he had not yet told him his name.

O, sir, I am almost sure you will remember it, for it was my poor father's as well as mine-John Bar

ton."

“Good heavens! and are you the son of that brave seaman who rescued my dear infant from the waves ? Twice has my darling Julie been saved from perishing by the generous Bartons."

You may easily imagine, that Monsieur Béliard, upon discovering that the wife and mother of the two preservers of his child was living in want and misery, hastened to relieve her. On the very day following, he set out for England, accompanied by John and Julie, (whom he would not trust from his sight for an instant,) but not till he had first called upon the good

JOHN RETURNS HOME.

189

fruit-woman and handsomely rewarded her for her kindness to the two children. He also stopped a day at Boulogne, for the purpose of recompensing the good Jacques Bontemps.

At last the impatient John had the happiness of again embracing his dear mother, for whom he had done so much, and of beholding her provided for comfortably for the remainder of her life, by the generosity of Monsieur Béliard, and (as he could not help feeling) owing to his own exertions, his perseverance, his humanity, and his reliance upon the goodness of God.

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CHAPTER XI.

NOVEMBER.

"There is a fearful spirit busy now:

Already have the elements unfurled
Their banners; the great sea-wave is upcurled;
The clouds come; the fierce winds begin to blow
About, and blindly on their errands go;
And quickly will the pale-red leaves be hurled
From their dry boughs, and all the forest world,
Stripped of its pride, be like a desert show."

Barry Cornwall.

“ The climate of England,” said Mr. Stock, “particularly in the month of November, has always been a subject of complaint with foreigners, and persons of our own country who are not blessed with robust health. The poet Cowper, a man of a gentle and elegant mind, but of a feeble frame, speaking of our cloudy skies, fogs, and dripping rains, adds, disposing much all hearts to sadness, and none more than mine.' The weather at this season is indeed gloomy, but they who are blessed with a moderate share of good health, and possess a little energy and activity, can always defy its sullenness, and conquer it too. Thé man who resolves to seek out the most pleasant parts in untoward or disagreeable, events, is a true philosopher: the true philosopher, therefore, while he contemplates the uncheerful appearance of our November

CHARACTER OF NOVEMBER.

191

weather, will not forget that the mists and the rains are preparing the earth for the future growth of the seed lying in its bosom; that the storms of wind, and out-pouring of the waters, are purifying the atmosphere: and during the intervals of sunshine he will not fail to admire the majesty of the clouds sailing away in their state, and carrying their stores of moisture to other lands; and, as the elegant author of "THE MONTHS' observes, when speaking of the contrast of sunshine and storm, though the sunshine appears more beautiful than grand, there is a power, not even to be looked upon, in the orb from which it flows; and though the storm is more grand than beautiful, there is always beauty where there is so much beneficence.'* Although, too, almost all our singing birds have deserted us, some few remain, and other species come to us.

In the first week or ten days of the month, for instance, the latest born of the house martins will all have disappeared; but then we shall have the redwing thrush, and that beautiful bird, the golden plover: the snipe, too, will be with us; and the fieldfare, and the starlings, and greenfinches, will be assembling in flocks. The snail and the slug, like the tortoise and many other torpid creatures, will have buried themselves below the reach of the coming frosts. On fine days we shall continue the pleasant labor of storing our winter apples, pears, and potatoes. And, although our garden now makes so poor a show in flowers, and it should appear we have but little employment remaining for us; yet, when you take your memorandum book to receive my dictation, you will find that we shall have as little leisure during this as

"Months,” July, by Leigh Hunt.

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