The following Wednesday, when Mr and Mrs Hackit were seated comfortably by their bright hearth, enjoying the long afternoon afforded by an early dinner, Rachel, the housemaid, came in and said,—"If you please 'm, the shepherd says, have you heard as Mrs. Barton's wuss, and not expected to live?"

Mrs Hackit turned pale, and hurried out to question the shepherd, who, she found, had heard the sad news at an ale-house in the village. Mr Hackit followed her out and said, "Thee'dst better have the pony-chaise, and go directly."

"Yes," said Mrs Hackit, too much overcome to utter any exclamations. "Rachel, come an' help me on wi' my things."

When her husband was wrapping her cloak round her feet in the pony-chaise, she said,—"If I don't come home to-night, I sha