[Illustration: “_Before he was six years old, he poized a broom stick with as good a grace as any soldier of his age in Europe._” _See page 9._] THE HISTORY OF LITTLE JACK, _A FOUNDLING_. BY THOMAS DAY, ESQ. AUTHOR OF THE HISTORY OF SANDFORD AND MERTON. Glasgow: PRINTED FOR RICHARD GRIFFIN & CO. 64, HUTCHESON STREET. MDCCCXXVI. MALCOLM & GRIFFIN, PRINTERS, GLASGOW. THE HISTORY OF LITTLE JACK. There was once a poor lame old man that lived in the midst of a wide uncultivated moor, in the north of England. He had formerly been a soldier, and had almost lost the use of one leg by a wound he had received in battle, when he was fighting against the enemies of his country. This poor man when he found himself thus disabled, built a hut of clay, which he covered with turf dug from the common. He had a little bit of ground which he made a shift to cultivate with his own hands, and which supplied him with potatoes and vegetables. Besides this, he sometimes gained a few halfpence by opening a gate for travellers, which stood near his house. He did not, indeed, get much, because few people passed that way. What he earned was, however, enough to purchase clothes and the few necessaries he wanted. But, though poor, he was strictly honest, and never failed, night and morning, to address his prayers to God; by which means he was respected by all who knew him, much more than many who were superior to him in rank and fortune. This old man had one domestic. In his walks over the common, he one day found a little kid that had lost its mother, and was almost famished with hunger: he took it home to his cottage, fed it with the produce of his garden, and nursed it till it grew strong and vigorous. Little Nan (for that was the name he gave it) returned his cares with gratitude, and became as much attached to him as a dog. All day she browzed upon the herbage that grew around his hut, and at night reposed upon the same bed of straw with her master. Frequently did she divert him with her innocent tricks, and gambols. She would nestle her little head in his bosom, and eat out of his hand part of his scanty allowance of bread, which he never failed to divide with his favourite. The old man often beheld her with silent joy, and, in the innocent feelings of his heart, would lift his hands to heaven, and thank the Deity, that, even in the midst of poverty and distress, had raised him up one faithful friend.