overseers would prevent their punishing me,
as they had threatened, if I did not stay in my place. I therefore now
began to look down all the streets as I passed them to see if any of
them led to the country; but on the right hand side they all led to
other streets. I began to think I should never come to the end of them.
Being at length arrived opposite to Catharine Street, I looked up to it,
and saw that it led to a wide space, where there was a great quantity of
green that looked like small trees. 'Well,' thought I, 'this must be the
way into the country, and the trees are beginning to grow here, but how
little they are!'

[Illustration: _The flight over London Bridge.--Page 349._]

I immediately crossed the Strand, went up Catharine Street, and entered
Covent Garden. Disappointment damped my hopes when I found that this
great space was surrounded by houses; but there was something so
pleasing in the appearance of the evergreens that were exposed for sale,
and the shops looked so pretty, being set out with holly and laurel,
that I crossed into the market, and walked slowly along, examining the
countenances of the shopkeepers, to see if there was one that looked
sufficiently good-natured for me to dare to speak to her. At last I
asked a woman who kept a fruit and flower shop if she would be so good
as to direct me the way to E----.

'To E----, child? Why, you are near forty miles off. What do you want
there?'

'I want to go to Mr. Sanders's,' replied I, 'and to tell him how ill Mr.
Smith used me, and perhaps he would get me another place, and not let
the overseers punish me.'

'I don't know what you are talking about, child,' said the woman. 'I
know nothing of Mr. Sanders nor Mr. Smith. Who are they?'

I looked in surprise at the woman, for I thought it impossible but
everybody must know Mr. Sanders. I, however, replied that he was the
clergyman at E----.

'Well,' said she, 'and who are you? A parish 'prentice, I should
suppose, by your gown.'

'And run away from your master,' said a man who had drawn near,
attracted by curiosity.

'Come, tell the truth,' said the woman, 'what made you run away? For
that, I suppose, is the case.'

I related the accident of the pie. The man and several others, who had
come near to listen, laughed heartily.

'And so,' said he, 'the old woman picked up the pie-crust, did she? She
was no bad judge. The boys had the apples, the gutter had the sugar,
you had the mud; and, if