implement of his own, or making one for a
neighbour. Languid and moody, he lounged
to his task with round shoulders and slouching
gait; spoke seldom—when he did, seldom
kindly. His children, except the youngest,
feared him, and his wife scarcely opened her
lips, except to answer.

A long, hard, severe winter, and a round of
typhus fever, which carried off two children,
finished him. John Bodger was beaten, and
obliged to sell his bit of land. He had
borrowed money on it from the lawyer;
while laid up with fever, he had silently
allowed his wife to run up a bill at "The
Shop." When strong enough for work there
was no work to be had. Lobbit saw his
opportunity, and took it. John Bodger wanted to
buy a cow, he wanted seed, he wanted to pay
the doctor, and to give his boys clothes to
enable them to go to service. He sold his land
for what he thought would do all this, and
leave a few pounds in hand. He attended to
sign the deed and receive money; when, instead
of the balance of twenty-five pounds he had
expected, he received one pound ten shillings,
and a long lawyer's bill receipted.

He did not say much; for poor countrymen
don't know how to talk to lawyers, but he
went towards home like a drunken man; and,
not hearing the clatter of a horse behind
him that had run away, was knocked down,
run over, and picked up with his collar bone
and two ribs broken.

The next day he was delirious; in the
course of a fortnight he came to his senses,
lying on a workhouse bed. Before he could
rise from the workhouse bed, not a stick or
stone had been left to tell where the cottage
of his fathers had stood for more than two
hundred years, and Mr. Joseph Lobbit had
obtained, in auctioneering phrase, a magnificent
estate of five hundred acres within a
ring fence.

John Bodger stood up at length a ruined,
desperate, dangerous man, pale, and weak,
and even humble. He said nothing; the fever
seemed to have tamed every limb—every
feature—except his eyes, which glittered like
an adder's when Mr. Lobbit came to talk
to him. Lobbit saw it and trembled in his
inmost heart, yet was ashamed of being afraid
of a pauper!

About this time Swing fires made their
appearance in the country, and the principal
Insurance Companies refused to insure farming
stock, to the consternation of Mr. Lobbit;
for he had lately begun to suspect that among
Mr. Swing's friends he was not very popular,
yet he had some thousand pounds of corn
stacks in his own yards and those of his
customers.

John Bodger, almost convalescent, was
anxious to leave the poor-house, while the
master, the doctor, and every official, seemed in
a league to keep him there and make him
comfortable, although a short time previously the
feeling had been quite different. But the old
rector of Duxmoor having died at the early
age of sixty-six, in spite of his care for his
health, had been succeeded by a man who was
not content to leave his duties to deputies; all
the parish affairs underwent a keen criticism,
and John and his large family came under
investigation. His story came out. The new
rector pitied and tried to comfort him; but
his soothing words fell on deaf ears. The
only answer he could get from John was, "A
hard life while it lasts, Sir, and a pauper's
grave, a pauper widow, pauper children:
Parson, while this is all you can offer John
Bodger, preaching to him is of no use."

With the wife, the clergyman was more
successful. Hope and belief are planted more
easily in the hearts of women than of men,
for adversity softens the one and hardens
the other. The rector was not content with
exhorting the poor, he applied to the rich
Joseph Lobbit on behalf of John Bodger's
family, and as the rector was not only a truly
Christian priest, but a gentleman of good
family and fortune, the parochial ruler was
obliged to hear and to heed.

Bland and smooth, almost pathetic, was
Joseph Lobbit: he was "heartily sorry for the
poor man and his large family; should be
happy to offer him and his wife permanent
employment on his Hill farm, as well as two
of the boys and one of the girls."

The eldest son and daughter, the first twins,
had been for some time in respectable service.
John would have nothing to do with Mr.
Lobbit.

While this discussion was pending, the news
of a ship at Plymouth waiting for emigrants,
reached Duxmoor.

The parson, and the great shopkeeper were
observed in a long warm conference in the
rectory garden, which ended in their shaking
hands, and the rector proceeding with rapid
strides to the poor-house.

The same day, the lately established girls'
school was set to work sewing garments
of all sizes, as well as the females of the
rector's family. A week afterwards, there
was a stir in the village; a waggon moved
slowly away, laden with a father, mother, and
large family, and a couple of pauper orphan
girls. Yes, it was true; John and Carry
Bodger were going to "Furrin parts," "to be
made slaves on." The women cried, and so
did the children, from imitation. The men
stared. As the emigrants passed the Red
Lion there was an attempt at a cheer from two
tinkers; but it was a failure; no one joined
in. So staring and staring, the men stood
until the waggon crept round the turn of the
lane and over the bridge, out of sight; then
bidding the "wives" go home and be hanged
to 'em, their lords, that had two-pence, went in
to spend it at the Red Lion, and those who had
not, went in to see the others drink, and talk!
over John Bodger's "bouldness," and abuse
Muster Lobbit quietly, so that no one in top
boots should hear them;—for they were poor