"I, too," said Mr. Lewellin, "have known the same strange thing. I know a wealthy lady who will forward handsome contributions to the treasurer of a Bible, or Tract, or Missionary Society, but if applied to on behalf of a needy person, even though a fellow-member of the same church, she will put on such a scowling look, and speak in such harsh and repulsive tones, that few will venture to ask her for alms. Her own pastor, on one occasion, ventured to ask her for a small donation, to assist a poor worthy minister who was in the depth of poverty, and, by excess of importunity, he obtained a few shillings; but within a few weeks she sent £50 to the treasurer of a society for the support of aged and infirm ministers."
"How can we account for such strange conduct, which is so opposed to the injunctions of the Word of God?"
"Very easily, Madam," replied Mr. Roscoe. "These public societies will blazon the name of the munificent donor through the British dominions in their annual reports; and as such a lady wishes to be seen of men when performing her acts of charity, she is willing to pay the price which is demanded."
"How contemptible! A female Pharisee of the old school embalmed while living, and reserved as a specimen of the detestable order from which she is descended, that we may see broadly developed the meanness and odiousness of vanity, which gives liberally to the public institutions of Christianity for self-display and self-satisfaction."
In the morning we proceeded to the woodman's cottage, and on our way overtook the sad procession of his corpse brought home on a hurdle carried by some countrymen, his weeping children and his faithful dog walking alongside. He had been found in a pit near the edge of the wood; his dog was sitting beside it, and moaning the fate of his master, whom he was unwilling to leave, though nearly perishing with hunger and cold.
On the body being brought into the house, the spectacle of grief which was then exhibited became almost too much for us to endure. His wife wiped off the snow which was still hanging about his face and hair, and then kissed his cold black lips, bedewing them with her tears, while the children pressed around her, sobbing as they looked on the altered countenance of their father, and then turned away to mourn apart. Mr. Roscoe spoke kindly to her, which soothed her spirit, and he assured her that she should not want. "I know it, Sir," she replied, "because the Lord is my Shepherd, and he can spread a table for me, though my husband is not spared to bring me the provisions." He then informed her that a subscription would be raised for her support, which he had no doubt would be sufficient to enable her to bring up her family respectably. "O! Sir," said the two eldest boys, "mother shan't want while God gives us strength to work, nor shall the little ones." "Don't cry, mother!" said the youngest girl, who had just drawn back her finger from touching the face of her father; "father is gone to see Jemima. Don't cry, mother! for that won't make father speak to us again."
THE DEATH OF THE WOODMAN.