"By the time I was tolerably recovered, I was forced to leave the house. I had no human prospect of assistance. I humbly asked of God to direct my steps, and to give me entire obedience to his will. I then cast my eye mournfully on my child; and, though prayer had relieved my heart of a load which without it would have been intolerable, my tears flowed fast, while I cried out in the bitterness of my soul, _How many hired servants of my father have bread enough, and to spare, and I perish with hunger._ This text appeared a kind of answer to my prayer, and gave me courage to make one more attempt to soften you in my favor. I resolved to set out directly to find you, to confess my disobedience, and to beg a scanty pittance with which I and my child might be meanly supported in some distant county, where we should not, by our presence, disgrace our more happy relations. We set out and traveled as fast as my weak health and poor George's little feet and ragged shoes would permit. I brought a little bundle of such work and necessaries as I had left, by selling which we subsisted on the road." "I hope," interrupted Bragwell, "there were no cabbage-nets in it?" "At least," said her mother, "I hope you did not sell them near home?" "No; I had none left," said Mrs. Incle, "or I should have done it. I got many a lift in a wagon for my child and my bundle, which was a great relief to me, as I should have had both to carry. And here I can not help saying, I wish drivers would not be too hard in their demands; if they help a poor sick traveler on a mile or two, it proves a great relief to weary bodies and naked feet; and such little cheap charities may be considered as _the cup of cold water_, which, if given on right grounds, _shall not lose its reward_." Here Bragwell sighed to think that when mounted on his fine bay mare, or driving his neat chaise, it had never once crossed his mind that the poor way-worn foot traveler was not equally at his ease, nor had it ever occurred to him that shoes were a necessary accommodation. Those who want nothing are apt to forget how many there are who want every thing. Mrs. Incle went on; "I got to this village about seven this morning; and while I sat on the church-yard wall to rest and meditate how I should make myself known at home, I saw a funeral; I inquired whose it was, and learned it was my sister's. This was too much for me, and I sank down in a fit, and knew nothing that happened to me from that moment, till I found myself in the work-house with my father and Mr. Worthy."