where to-morrow's food and to-morrow's fire is coming from.'

'Nowe, I dare say. Bud if they'd no more sense nor to spend their
brass in th' summer, what can they expect? There's some fo'k think
they can eyt their cake and hev it. But th' Almeety doesn't bake
bread o' that mak'. He helps them as helps theirsels. He gay' five
to th' chap as bed five, and him as bed nobbud one, and did naught
wi' it--why, He tuk it fro' him, didn't He? I'll tell yo' what it
is, Mr. Penrose, there's a deal o' worldly wisdom i' providence.
Naa come, isn't there?'

Mr. Penrose laughed.

'Theer's that Oliver o' Deaf Martha's. Naa, I lay aught he's noan
so mich, wi' his dog-feightin' and poachin'. His missis wur up
here t'other day axin' for some milk for th' childer. An' hoo said
ut everybody wur ooined (punished for want of food) at their house
but Oliver an' th' dog. Theer's awlus enugh for them.'

'Yes, I believe that is so.'

'It wur that dog as welly killed Moses Fletcher, wurnd it?'

'I think it was,' replied Mr. Penrose.

'And haa is owd Moses sin yo' dipped him o'er agen? It 'll tak'
some watter and grace to mak' him ought like, I reckon. But they
tell me he's takken to gien his brass away. It 'll noan dry th'
een o' th' poor fo'k he's made weep, tho'--will it, Mr. Penrose?'

'Perhaps not, Mrs. Halstead; but Moses is an altered man.'

'And noan afore it wur time. But what's that noise in th' yard? It
saands like th' colliers. What con they be doin' aat o' th' pit at
this time? They're noan off the shift afore ten, and it's nobbud
hawve-past six.'

In another moment the door of the cottage was thrown open and a
collier entered, white with falling snow, and breathless. When he
had sufficiently recovered, he said:

'Gronny, little Job Wallwork's getten crushed in th' four-foot,
and it's a'most up wi' him. They're bringin' on him here.'

'Whatever wilto say next, lad? Poor little felley, where's he
getten hurt? On his yed?'

'Nay; he's crushed in his in'ards, and he hasnd spokken sin'.
They're carryin' him on owd Malachi's coite' (coat).

A sound of shuffling feet was heard in the snow, and four men,
holding the ends of a greatcoat, bore the pale-faced, swooning boy
into the glare of Mrs. Halstead's kitchen. His thin features were
drawn, and a clayey hue overspread his face--a hue which, when she
saw with her practised eye, she knew was the shadow of the
destroyer.

'Poor little felley!' she cried; 'and his mother a w