her early youth--the husband of her affections." When, she looked on the
dew dancing amid the delicate tracery of the field spider's web--when
the joyous whistle of the gay blackbird broke upon her ear--gazing
silently on all that was really fresh and beautiful in nature--she
felt that, instead of warming, it fell chilly upon her heart. And yet
all was as usual--the bright sun, and the smiling landscape. Why, then,
was she less cheerful? She was alone! No one she loved was by her side,
to whom to say, "How beautiful!" Joseph gets into debt, and upon Grace
offering to sacrifice a favourite article of dress to enable him to keep
a "promise to pay," we find the following exquisite paragraph: "there is
something so commanding, so holy, in virtue, that, though the wicked may
not imitate, they cannot withhold from it their admiration." As Huntley
looked upon his wife, he thought she never appeared so lovely. Some of
the affection of earlier and purer years returned warmly to his heart;
and as he kissed her, words of happier import broke from his lips--"God
bless you, Grace! I am a sad scoundrel, and that's the truth." Joseph
deserts her, and in less than eight years after their marriage, her
little family are entirely dependent upon her for support. The husband
returns, and sets the eldest boy to rob his mother; the villany of the
father is reproved by Grace, meekly but firmly. Joseph takes the boy
under his guidance, and becoming acquainted with "John and Sandy Smith,
(two poachers,) who lived together in a wretched hut on the skirt of
Crayton Common," he soon initiates the little fellow into crime. After a
storming quarrel with his wife--]

That night, as latterly had been his custom, he sallied forth about
eight o'clock, leaving his home and family without food or money. The
children crowded round their mother's knee to repeat their simple
prayers, and retired, cold and hungry, to bed. It was near midnight
ere her task was finished; and then she stole softly into her chamber,