I now recollected that I had been pleased with observing so many young orchards and flourishing cottage gardens in the village: little did I suspect the fair hand which could thus in a few years diffuse an air of smiling comfort around these humble habitations, and embellish poverty itself. She makes, they told me, her periodical visits of inspection to see that neatness and order do not degenerate. Not to appear too eager, I asked the poor man some questions about his health, which seemed infirm. "I am but weak, sir," said he, "for matter of that, but I should have been dead long ago but for the Squire's family. He gives me the run of his kitchen, and Miss Lucilla allows me half-a-crown a week for one day's work and any odd hour I can spare; but she don't let me earn it, for she is always watching for fear it should be too hot, or too cold, or too wet for me; and she brings me my dose of bark herself into this tool-house, that she may be sure I take it; for she says, servants and poor people like to have medicines provided for them, but don't care to take them. Then she watches that I don't throw my coat on the wet grass, which she says, gives laboring men so much rheumatism; and she made me this nice flannel waistcoat, sir, with her own hands. At Christmas they give me a new suit from top to toe, so that I want for nothing but a more thankful heart, for I never can be grateful enough to God and my benefactors." I asked some further questions, only to have the pleasure of hearing him talk longer about Lucilla. "But, sir," said he, interrupting me, "I hear bad news, very bad news. Pray, your honor, forgive me." "What do you mean, James?" said I, seeing his eyes fill. "Why, sir, all the servants at the Grove will have it that you are come to carry off Miss Lucilla, God bless her whenever she goes. Your Mr. Edwards, sir, says you are one of the best of gentlemen, but indeed, indeed, I don't know who can deserve her. She will carry a blessing wherever she goes." The honest fellow put up the sleeve of his coat to brush away his tears, nor was I ashamed of those with which his honest affection filled my own eyes. While we were talking, a poor little girl, who I knew, by her neat uniform, belonged to Miss Stanley's school, passed us with a little basket in her hand. James called to her, "Make haste, Rachel, you are after your time." "What, this is market-day, James, is it?" said Doctor Barlow, "and Rachel is come for her nosegays." "Yes, sir," said James; "I forgot to tell their honors, that every Saturday, as soon as her school is over, the younger Misses give Rachel leave to come and fetch some flowers out of their garden, which she carries to the town to sell; she commonly gets a shilling, half of which they make her lay out to bring home a little tea for her poor sick mother, and the other half she lays up to buy shoes and stockings for herself and her crippled sister. Every little is a help where there is nothing, sir."