shing body, it was I who took the liberty to send to
you to come to try to help his poor soul, for the doctor says he
can't live."

Mr. Wilson could not help saying to himself, "Such an action as this
is worth a whole volume of comments on that precept of our blessed
Master, _Love your enemies; do good to them that hate you._" Giles's
dying groans confirmed the sad account Weston had just given. The
poor wretch could neither pray himself nor attend to the minister.
He could only cry out, "Oh! sir, what will become of me? I don't
know how to repent. O, my poor wicked children! Sir, I have bred
them all up in sin and ignorance. Have mercy on them, sir; let me
not meet them in the place of torment to which I am going. Lord
grant them that time for repentance which I have thrown away!" He
languished a few days, and died in great misery:--a fresh and sad
instance that people who abuse the grace of God, and resist his
Spirit, find it difficult to repent when they will.

Except the minister and Jack Weston, no one came to see poor Giles,
besides Tommy Price, who had been so sadly wronged by him. Tom often
brought him his own rice-milk or apple-dumpling; and Giles, ignorant
and depraved as he was, often cried out, "That he thought now there
must be some truth in religion, since it taught even a boy to _deny
himself_, and to _forgive an injury_." Mr. Wilson, the next Sunday,
made a moving discourse on the danger of what are called _petty
offenses_. This, together with the awful death of Giles, produced
such an effect that no poacher has been able to show his head in
that parish ever since.

TAWNEY RACHEL;

OR, THE FORTUNE TELLER;

WITH SOME ACCOUNT OF DREAMS, OMENS, AND CONJURORS.

Tawney Rachel was the wife of poaching Giles. There seemed to be a
conspiracy in Giles's whole family to maintain themselves by tricks
and pilfering. Regular labor and honest industry did not suit their
idle habits. They had a sort of genius at finding out every unlawful
means to support a vagabond life. Rachel traveled the country with a
basket on her arm. She pretended to get her bread by selling laces,
cabbage-nets, ballads, and history books, and used to buy old rags
and rabbit-skins. Many honest people trade in these things, and I am
sure I do not mean to say a word against honest people, let them
trade in what they will. But Rachel only made this traffic a
pretense for getting admittance into farmers' kitchens in order to
tell f