and that they must enjoy the sunshine,
and be very unhappy to die. The shoemaker
was amazed, but indulged the lad's fancy.
One day he thought to give him a great treat,
and when they were out in the meadows, he
drew from under his coat a bow and arrow,
and shot the arrow high up in the air. He
expected to see him in an ecstacy of delight:
his own children clapped their hands in transport,
but Simon stood silent, and as if awestruck.
"Shall I send up another? " asked
the shoemaker.
   " No, no," exclaimed the child, imploringly.
"You say God lives up there, and he mayn't
like it."

The shoemaker laughed, but presently he
said, as if to himself, " There is too much imagination
there. There will be a poet, if we
don't take care."

The shoemaker offered to teach Simon to
read, and to solidify his mind, as he termed it,
by arithmetic, and then to teach him to work
at his trade. His mother was very glad; and
thought shoemaking would be a good trade
for the boy; and that with Mr. Watson she
should have him always near her. He was
growing now a great lad, and was especially
strong, and of a frank and daring habit. He
was especially indignant at any act of oppression
of the weak by the strong, and not
seldom got into trouble by his championship
of the injured in such cases amongst the boys
of the neighbourhood.

He was now about twelve years of age;
when, going one day with a basket of clothes
on his head to Mr. Spires's for his mother, he
was noticed by Mr. Spires himself from his
counting-house window. The great war was
raging; there was much distress amongst the
manufacturers; and the people were suffering
and exasperated against their masters. Mr.
Spires, as a staunch tory, and supporter of
the war, was particularly obnoxious to the
workpeople, who uttered violent threats
against him. For this reason his premises
were strictly guarded, and at the entrance of
his yard, just within the gates, was chained a
huge and fierce mastiff, his chain allowing him
to approach near enough to intimidate any
stranger, though not to reach him. The dog
knew the people who came regularly about,
and seemed not to notice them, but on the
entrance of a stranger, he rose up, barked
fiercely, and came to the length of his chain.
This always drew the attention of the porter,
if he were away from his box, and few persons
dared to pass till he came.

Simon Deg was advancing with the basket
of clean linen on his head, when the dog
rushed out, and barking loudly, came exactly
opposite to him, within a few feet. The boy,
a good deal startled at first, reared himself
with his back against the wall, but at a glance
perceiving that the dog was at the length of
his tether, he seemed to enjoy his situation,
and stood smiling at the furious animal, and
lifting his basket with both hands above his
head, nodded to him, as if to say, " Well, old
boy, you 'd like to eat me, wouldn't you?"

Mr. Spires, who sate near his counting-house
window at his books, was struck with the
bold and handsome bearing of the boy, and
said to a clerk, " What boy is that?"

"It is Jenny Deg's," was the answer.

"Ha! that boy! Zounds! how boys do
grow! Why that's the child that Jenny
Deg was carrying when she came to Stockington:
and what a strong, handsome, bright-looking
fellow he is now!"

As the boy was returning, Mr. Spires called
him to the counting-house door, and put
some questions to him as to what he was
doing and learning, and so on. Simon, taking
off his cap with much respect, answered in
such a clear and modest way, and with a
voice that had so much feeling and natural
music in it, that the worthy manufacturer
was greatly taken with him.

"That's no Deg," said he, when he again
entered the counting-house, " not a bit of it.
He's all Goodrick, or whatever his mother's
name was, every inch of him."

The consequence of that interview was,
that Simon Deg was very soon after perched
on a stool in Mr. Spires' counting-house,
where he continued till he was twenty-two.
Mr. Spires had no son, only a single daughter;
and such were Simon Deg's talents, attention
to business, and genial disposition, that at
that age Mr. Spires gave him a share in the
concern. He was himself now getting less
fond of exertion than he had been, and placed
the most implicit reliance on Simon's judgment
and general management. Yet no
two men could be more unlike in their
opinions beyond the circle of trade. Mr.
Spires was a staunch tory of the staunch old
school. He was for Church and King, and
for things remaining for ever as they had
been. Simon, on the other hand, had liberal
and reforming notions. He was for the improvement
of the people, and their admission
to many privileges. Mr. Spires was, therefore,
liked by the leading men of the place,
and disliked by the people. Simon's estimation
was precisely in the opposite direction.
But this did not disturb their friendship; it
required another disturbing cause—and that
came.

Simon Deg and the daughter of Mr. Spires,
grew attached to each other; and, as the
father had thought Simon worthy of becoming
a partner in the business, neither of the young
people deemed that he would object to a
partnership of a more domestic description.
But here they made a tremendous mistake.
No sooner was such a proposal hinted at,
than Mr. Spires burst forth with the fury of
all the winds from the bag of Ulysses.

"What! a Deg aspire to the hand of the sole
heiress of the enormously opulent Spires?"

The very thought almost cut the proud
manufacturer off with an apoplexy. The
ghosts of a thousand paupers rose up before