Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed. [Illustration] ERIC, A WAIF A Story of Last Century BY EMMA LESLIE Author of "The Story of a Christmas Sixpence," "Audrey's Jewels," etc. London THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY 56 PATERNOSTER ROW 65 ST PAUL'S CHURCHYARD AND 164 PICCADILLY BUTLER & TANNER THE SELWOOD PRINTING WORKS FROME, AND LONDON CONTENTS. [Illustration] CHAPTER I. ERIC HUNTER II. AT THE MAGPIE III. A FATAL JOURNEY IV. ENGLISH SLAVES V. THE VOYAGE VI. A NEW HOME VII. A WILD GOOSE CHASE VIII. CONCLUSION ERIC, A WAIF. [Illustration] CHAPTER I. ERIC HUNTER. "SO the old witch is dead, and Dame Willoughby may hope to raise a whole brood of chickens, and Farmer Sawyer need not fear his cheese will be spoiled;" and the speaker lifted his broad-brimmed tattered hat, and wiped the perspiration from his brow, looking expectantly at the landlord of The Magpie as he did so. "That news is worth a horn of ale, isn't it, Master Tyler?" he asked, when he found it met with little response. "Humph! The news might have been better, and it might have been worse. The poor woman was a stranger in these parts, I'll allow, but that was all that could be proved against her. Where's the boy?" added the landlord, with a little more interest. "Him they call Eric? Did ever an English-born lad have such a name as that?" said the other in a grumbling tone, as he slowly raised the horn of ale to his lips before answering the landlord's question. "He'll be up there with his mother, I suppose; the two were always together." "Poor little chap, he'll find the world a hard place, I'm afraid, now his mother has gone." "Serve 'em right. They should ha' bided in their own parish, and not come poking their noses where they wasn't wanted," said the other. The landlord made no reply to this, for he knew the man did but express the sentiment of the whole neighbourhood in the words he had spoken. Summerleigh was a quiet, self-contained little village on the edge of Epping Forest, far enough from London to be very jealous of the intrusion of strangers if they stayed more than a night at the inn, unless they happened to be visitors at the Hall. So when the poor woman came with her only son, a lad of ten, to occupy the little cottage that had stood tenantless so long on the edge of the forest clearing, the whole parish was stirred to discover who she was and why she came there.