your workmen send their children, and often look into
the school yourself, to see if they are there, and reward or
discourage them accordingly," added Mrs. Jones. "The most zealous
teachers will flag in their exertions, if they are not animated and
supported by the wealthy; and your poor youth will soon despise
religious instruction as a thing forced upon them, as a hardship
added to their other hardships, if it be not made pleasant by the
encouraging presence, kind words, and little gratuities, from their
betters."

Here Mrs. Jones took her leave; the farmer insisted on waiting on
her to the door. When they got into the yard, they spied Mr.
Simpson, who was standing near a group of females, consisting of the
farmer's two young daughters, and a couple of rosy dairy-maids, an
old blind fiddler, and a woman who led him. The woman had laid a
basket on the ground, out of which she was dealing some songs to the
girls, who were kneeling round it, and eagerly picking out such
whose title suited their tastes. On seeing the clergyman come up,
the fiddler's companion (for I am sorry to say she was not his wife)
pushed some of the songs to the bottom of the basket, turned round
to the company, and, in a whining tone, asked if they would please
to buy a godly book. Mr. Simpson saw through the hypocrisy at once,
and instead of making any answer, took out of one of the girls'
hands a song which the woman had not been able to snatch away. He
was shocked and grieved to see that these young girls were about to
read, to sing, and to learn by heart such ribaldry as he was ashamed
even to cast his eyes on. He turned about to the girl, and gravely,
but mildly said, "Young woman, what do you think should be done to a
person who should be found carrying a box of poison round the
country, and leaving a little at every house?" The girls agreed that
such a person ought to be hanged. "That he should," said the
farmer, "if I was upon the jury, and quartered too." The fiddler and
his woman were of the same opinion, declaring, _they_ would do no
such a wicked thing for the world, for if they were poor they were
honest. Mr. Simpson, turning to the other girl, said, "Which is of
most value, the soul or the body?" "The soul, sir," said the girl.
"Why so?" said he. "Because, sir, I have heard you say in the
pulpit, the soul is to last forever." "Then," cried Mr. Simpson, in
a stern voice, turning to the fiddler's woman, "are you not ashamed
to sell p