118 THE HISTORY oF

haviour, a new sixpence, which Mrs Sarah had
given me for telling the truth, when 1 had bro-
ken a fine china cup of my dear Mrs. Neale’s.

The tears of joy came into my eyes; I clasp-
ed my hands together, and cried out, in the
words of the holy David, The Lord is my Shep-
herd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie
down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside
the still waters. (Psalm xxiii. 1, 2.)

Then, having borrowed an old straw hat of
one of my hostess’s daughters, I went to the
baker's shop, and having laid out a penny on a
roll, which I ate with thankfulness to God, I
walked through the village towards the church,
with the intent to visit the grave of my dear
father and mother, who were buried, as you
may know, Sir, under the large yew tree on the
south side of the church-yard.

As I walked along the village-street, I called
to mind a thousand things which had happen-
ed in my early days. I remembered them only
as one remembers a dream, very faintly and
very obscurely. I crossed the stile at the end
of the village, and took the path up the hill
to the church, by your house, Sir.

I saw you walking in your garden, with your
book in your hand, and I knew you again, and
I remembered all the kind things you had done
by me; how you had carried me in your arms,
and talked to me of heaven, and of my God,
and our blessed Saviour. I stopped at the
garden-gate, and thought that I would be so
bold as to speak to you, and to make myself
known to you. But, before I could get cou-