s, which
I see have torn sad holes in Molly's apron to-day; they carry this
wool home, and when they have got a pretty parcel together, their
mother cards it; for she can sit and card in the chimney corner,
when she is not able to wash or work about the house. The biggest
girl then spins it; it does very well for us without dyeing, for
poor people must not stand for the color of their stockings. After
this our little boys knit it for themselves, while they are employed
in keeping cows in the fields, and after they get home at night. As
for the knitting which the girls and their mother do, that is
chiefly for sale, which helps to pay our rent."

[1] This piece of frugal industry is not imaginary, but a real
fact, as is the character of the shepherd, and his uncommon
knowledge of the Scriptures.

Mr. Johnson lifted up his eyes in silent astonishment at the shifts
which honest poverty can make rather than beg or steal; and was
surprised to think how many ways of subsisting there are, which
those who live at their ease little suspect. He secretly resolved to
be more attentive to his own petty expenses than he had hitherto
been; and to be more watchful that nothing was wasted in his
family.

But to return to the shepherd. Mr. Johnson told him that as he must
needs be at his friend's house, who lived many miles off, that
night, he could not, as he wished to do, make a visit to his cottage
at present. "But I will certainly do it," said he, "on my return,
for I long to see your wife and her nice little family, and to be an
eye-witness of her neatness and good management." The poor man's
tears started into his eyes on hearing the commendation bestowed on
his wife; and wiping them off with the sleeve of his coat, for he
was not worth a handkerchief in the world, he said, "Oh, sir, you
just now, I am afraid, called me an humble man, but indeed I am a
very proud one." "Proud!" exclaimed Mr. Johnson, "I hope not. Pride
is a great sin, and as the poor are liable to it as well as the
rich, so good a man as you seem to be ought to guard against it."
"Sir," said he, "you're right, but I am not proud of myself, God
knows I have nothing to be proud of. I am a poor sinner; but indeed,
sir, I am proud of my wife: she is not only the most tidy, notable
woman on the plain, but she is the kindest wife and mother, and the
most contented, thankful Christian that I know. Last year I thought
I should have lost her in a violent fit of the r