"She is not to become one just now!" said my uncle. "It seems my lady has promised her husband, Sir Edward, that she shall not be professed till she is twenty-one, nor then, unless by her own choice." "Heaven help her, what choice will she have by that time?" said my aunt. "A good many things may happen in twelve years!" answered my uncle, dryly. "These are days of change and shaking, you know, aunt. But as Loveday is not to go to this same convent till she is sent for, we will enjoy her company while she is here. 'Each day's trouble is sufficient for the same selfe day,' as we have just read. But, my children, if your father has humbled himself before you, let not the lesson be lost upon you. Remember, never to let the seed of anger and malice take root in your hearts—no, not for an hour. Sure you may see in my case what evil and bitter fruit it may—nay, must bring forth—yea, even after the sin hath been confessed and done away by Christ His own blood and sacrifice." Young as I was, these words of my uncle made an impression on my mind which was never wholly defaced, though covered by the teachings of later years. My lady's contrivance for evading her promise to her husband was certainly ingenious. In these days we should call it Jesuitical, but we had not then begun to hear very much about the Jesuits, though there has been coil enough since. "It is a pleasant evening, and the air is fresh and cool after the warm day," said my uncle, after a little pause. "Get your hoods, my children, and we will walk out to the Minories, and then visit the old people at the almshouse." Children's hearts are light. Of course I was pleased at the notion of a walk, and by the time I had been out half an hour I had persuaded myself that something might come to pass to prevent my going to the nunnery after all; and I was ready to observe and enjoy all the sights of the way. We had not gone far before I heard a great whining and grunting behind us, and looking round I perceived that we were followed by two lusty, well-fed pigs, which showed every desire for a better acquaintance. I had a dislike to hogs, and was always a little afraid of them. I pressed closer to my uncle, who was leading me by the hand, the twins going before us, and Sambo following with a great can, the use of which I did not understand. "What is it?" said my uncle—then seeing the direction of my eyes. "Oh, the pigs; they will not hurt you. Why a country maid should not fear pigs, surely. But you wonder why they follow us; I will show you." He took from his pockets some crusts of bread which he threw to the pigs, and of which they partook with little grunts of content and much shaking of broad ears and curly tails. I even fancied they cast glances of positive regard and affection from their queer little eyes. Their repast being ended, they turned and trotted back, I suppose, to wait for some other patron.