withdrawn into the dusky shadow behind his father's chair.



CHAPTER V.

In a few moments Mr. Temple resumed the story, as follows:--


SAMUEL JOHNSON.

[CONTINUED]

Well, my children, fifty years had passed away since young Sam Johnson
had shown himself so hard-hearted towards his father. It was now
market-day in the village of Uttoxeter.

In the street of the village you might see cattle-dealers with cows and
oxen for sale, and pig-drovers with herds of squeaking swine, and
farmers with cartloads of cabbages, turnips, onions, and all other
produce of the soil. Now and then a farmer's red-faced wife trotted
along on horseback, with butter and cheese in two large panniers. The
people of the village, with country squires, and other visitors from the
neighborhood, walked hither and thither, trading, jesting, quarrelling,
and making just such a bustle as their fathers and grandfathers had made
half a century before.

In one part of the street there was a puppet-show with a ridiculous
merry-andrew, who kept both grown people and children in a roar of
laughter. On the opposite side was the old stone church of Uttoxeter,