“Ha! perhaps Mr. Cox has broken my windows, in revenge for my refusing to let him my house,” said Mr. Somerville; and many of the neighbours, who knew the malicious character of this Mr. Cox, observed that this was like one of his tricks. A boy of about twelve years old, however, stepped forward and said, “I don’t like Mr. Cox, I’m sure; for once he beat me when he was drunk; but, for all that, no one should be accused wrongfully. He could not be the person that broke these windows last night, for he was six miles off. He slept at his cousin’s last night, and he has not returned home yet. So I think he knows nothing of the matter.” Mr. Somerville was pleased with the honest simplicity of this boy, and observing that he looked in eagerly at the staircase, when the house door was opened, he asked him whether he would like to go in and see the new house. “Yes, sir,” said the boy, “I should like to go up those stairs, and to see what I should come to.” “Up with you, then!” said Mr. Somerville; and the boy ran up the stairs. He went from room to room with great expressions of admiration and delight. At length, as he was examining one of the garrets, he was startled by a fluttering noise over his head; and looking up, he saw a white pigeon, who, frightened at his appearance, began to fly round and round the room, till it found its way out of the door, and flew into the staircase. The carpenter was speaking to Mr. Somerville upon the landing-place of the stairs; but, the moment he spied the white pigeon, he broke off in the midst of a speech about _the nose_ of the stairs, and exclaimed, “There he is, please your honour! There’s he that has done all the damage to our bow-window—that’s the very same wicked white pigeon that broke the church windows last Sunday was se’nnight; but he’s down for it now; we have him safe, and I’ll chop his head off, as he deserves, this minute.” “Stay! O stay! don’t chop his head off: he does not deserve it,” cried the boy, who came running out of the garret with the greatest eagerness—“_I_ broke your window, sir,” said he to Mr. Somerville. “I broke your window with this ball; but I did not know that I had done it, till this moment, I assure you, or I should have told you before. Don’t chop his head off,” added the boy to the carpenter, who had now the white pigeon in his hands. “No,” said Mr. Somerville, “the pigeon’s head shall not be chopped off, nor yours either, my good boy, for breaking a window. I am persuaded by your open, honest countenance, that you are speaking the truth; but pray explain this matter to us; for you have not made it quite clear. How happened it that you could break my windows without knowing it? and how came you to find it out at last?” “Sir,” said the boy, “if you’ll come up here, I’ll show you all I know, and how I came to know it.”