The robin, too, became her guide. Not that she could have missed her way, but the trodden path being hidden by the snow, one direction, so that she did not wander far from the conjectured track, was as good as another. And the robin went right onward, hopping now-now flying, and ever strengthening her resolution. And so she found herself, ere long, at the door of her grandmother's cottage, and then she saw the robin no more.

She related her story to her grandmother while warming herself at the fire which blazed on the hearth. And oh, what fervent thanksgivings ascended that night from that lowly roof to the Throne of Glory!

The next morning there came a knock at the cottage door, and when Jane opened it, who should present himself but the sailor who had given her five shillings on the previous afternoon. He started with surprise at seeing Jane, and enquired whether Dame Foster lived there. When Jane replied that she did, the seaman gave a cry of joy.

That's Richard's voice," exclaimed the old woman from within. "I know it is. God be praised. He has sent me back my son.

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My mother, my dear mother," cried the sailor rushing into the cottage.

We pass

the scene which followed.

"And so this is my Jane,-my own child," said the seaman, presently, taking her in his lap, and kissing her for full five minutes without drawing breath.

"Yes, that is poor dead Mary's child," said the grandmother. "It was her mother's wedding-ring that she pawned yesterday." The old woman, the neighbours, Jane herself, all assert that it was no robin; but an angel from the skies, that led her over the moor that afternoon. Who shall dare laugh at their belief? For are not the resolves, which, nobly taken, enable us to battle successfully with the storms of life, and conduct us safely HOMEangels, and guardian angels, too? So, here's God speed the Winter Robin on repeated missions!

. A. W.

ENGLISH SCENES AND CHARACTERS.

BY WILLIAM HOWITT.

THE more one sees of other countries, the more one is satisfied of the truth of the common assertion, that there is no country where such variety of curious and independent individual character abounds as in our own. The freedom of our constitution, both in politics and religion, is undoubtedly the cause of it. We have so many sects, and so many opinions of our own on all matters, that we stand up for them with a pertinacity which grows on us both with the growth of centuries, and of our own years. We have no government police entering into our houses, however they may now parade before them, and compelling us to do this and that, even to the sweeping of our chimneys, and the making of our coffins, contrary to our own pleasure and notions of what is right. Government fleeces us sweepingly enough of our cash, but in other respects, and especially in provincial towns and country places, we do just as we like, and some of us grow into habits and ideas most amusing. I have formerly shown some specimens of this in my "Nooks of the World; and how many more Nooks might we visit in this land of good, hard-headed John Bull, abounding with oddest scenes and characters. There might be a dozen more volumes of "The Eccentric Mirror written out of one's own knowledge. Let us from time to time pen a few down.

NO. I. THE COUNTRY MANTY-MEKKER.

A friend of mine had remarked for some time in Nottingham, where he lived, a singular-looking woman going to and fro in the streets past his house. She was tall and strong; had the figure and gait of a man; had a strong expressive countenance, full of a strange but original character; in short, was one out of the ordinary class of mortals. "That woman, said he to himself, "is no townswoman. She has grown up in some country-place; she has not only a character, but a history, and I should like to know it." As he passed her once in the street, she seemed to look hard and searchingly at him, as if to say, "Who are you now? You don't seem to me just like the rest of these townsfolks, who don't care a halfpenny for anybody that isn't dressed

up as grand as my lord or my lady." he looked hard at her. His desire to increased.

Perhaps it might be that have a little talk with her

One day he saw her enter a shop, and stepped in too. The tall, strange woman was asking for a pennyworth of red ochre. The shopman put it down before her ready wrapped in paper. She slowly opened it, and then pushed it back towards him, saying "Well, now, cut that into two." The man very politely did so. She weighed the two pieces in her hand, and giving him one back, said, "Wrop me that up again; I'll take this mysen-it's rayther the heaviest-'tother's for a neebor.'

As she saw my friend smile, she turned towards him, and without any preface, added

"What a thing this self is! It's the last thing that leaves us i' this world!

“That's an honest confession, at least," said my friend. “İ think, my good woman, that you were not brought up in this

town.

No, I reckon I warna neither. You're reght there, mester. I'm none o' your finikin townswomen. You may see that at a look. I reckon I should mak two of the regular town-grown women. No, I wos barn and brought up i' th' country, where there's life and strength i' th' very air. I wos used from a little wench to run about i' th' clooses; fetch up th' cows; look after th' lambs and pigs; aye, and drive th' plough at a pinch. My fayther war a little farmer, and a hard-working man he war, and made us all work anau. When I war grown up, my fayther deed, and left me up o' th' farm, and I war fool enough to marry." "Fool enough?"

"Aye, fool enough! It's truth, man; I dunna pretend to deny it. I'm none of your fine, finikin things as is ashamed to say th' truth. What's done's done, and cannot be undone,-more 's th' pity! But where's th' use to deny it? Aye, fool war I! But I war only like mony o' one besides. That's th' misfortin on't, young mon-mind what I say, that's th' misfortin on 't. We have to tak the most important step in our lives, th' step as requires most sense, just when we've gotten th' least sense; and so we have to smart for 't. By Leddy, I've smarted enough for my folly. Th' young fellow as I married, war a likely enough young chap to look at, but he war good for nowt. He war too fond of sitting i' th' ale-house nook, and I soon fun out that he'd

only married me for what he could get. I went on working day after day. I went to th' plough, to th' team, fetched up th' cows, and milked 'em. I war up o' summer mornings by four o'clock, and came home from milking daggled up to th' knees wi' dew, and there was he hulking i' bed. By Leddy, I war fit sometimes to go and fling a good, sousing bucket o' watter on him as he lay. But that warna the worst. Every night he war sure to be i' th' ale-house; and mony and mony a time have I had to fetch him away, and pay his shot into th' bargain.

"Thinks I to mysen, my lad, this wunna do for me. I dunna mean thee to slurt th' bit o' money my fayther got with such sweat and trouble; no, by Guy! that I dunna! So, I threw up th' farm; sold th' stock, and come reght away to Nottingham.'

"And what became of your husband?"

"What became of him? He followed me, to be sure what was he likely to do, a poor dirty rogue ? Trust him for running after the money. Aye, he set his nose after it like a ferrit. He made hissen sure now of laying hands on 't in some hole or coorner o' th' house or other. But I took pratty good care he shouldna. "Where's th' money wench?' he often said.

"Where should it be?' said I, but gone to pay debts off that a drunken sot like thee sets on.' But it signified nowt-he knew better, and he war always gropin' about, high and low, after it. 'Get to work!' said I; thou's limbs big enough, and a carcase strong enough-get a spade, or a pick, and do summut for thy bread, as I do. I shall turn Manty-mekker.'

"Aye, mester, you may smile. You dunna think I look much like a manty-mekker; and I'll allow," said she, showing her great hard bony hands, "but these hands as ha' handled th' pitchfork, and th' dung-fork, and held th' plough, dunna look th' likeliest i' th' world to handle a needle and thrid. But where there's a will there's a way; and I can assure you, I can mak a tightish sort of a gown-aye, I can please these fine town wenches better than you'd think for.

"But I'm overrunning my story, I took a house, and began manty-mekking. That dirty rogue of a husband o' mine was always progging about th' house to find out where I'd put the money, but I took care. One day, in walks a man with a book in his hand, and said, 'Messis, I want th' poor-rates.'

"Poor-rates!' said I. By Leddy! thou art come to a wrong house then. I'm a poor woman mysen, man.'

"That may be,' said he, but you've ta'en a house of five pounds a year, and either you or th' landlord mun pay the poor

rates.'

"Then let the landlord pay 'em,' said I, he's able enough.' "That's true as th' gospel, missis,' says th' man, but he wunna!'

"And I canna!' said I.

"But you mun,' said he.

"But if a body canna,' says I, 'what then?'

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"Then,' says he, you mun go to th' workhouse, and other people mun pay to you. That's the way now o'days; all pay as long as they can, even when the children are crying upon the door-sill for a roasted potato; and when they can pay no longer, they turn en out, and so to th' workhouse.'

"Mon,' said I, for I had bin conning him o'er as he war talking at hissens, and I seed as plain as a pike-staff, that th' fellow, spite of his trade, war an honest sort o' chap- Mon,' said I, canst tell me where to put a bit o' money out safe?'

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Well,' said he, giving me a queer sort of look, as much as to say, I thought you said you'd got none,'-' maybe I could do

that too.'

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Then do!' said I, getting a chair, and retching up to th' top of an old cupboard-do; for here I 've gotten the plague of my life,-a bit of money in an old stocking, and it keeps me in a continual fever; for that dirty rogue of a husband o' mine is always progging after it, and one of these days he 'll get hold on 't, and then I'm ruined for ever.'

"So down I brings th' owd stocking, and holding it open afore th' man-There,' says I, there's just four hundred gowden guineas there!' and wi' that I held it up to hin, and my eyes! but th' mon did stare!

ever.

Missis,' said he,

that's a sight good for sore eyes, how

"I am afraid," said my friend, "you were not very prudent though, to show such a sum thus to a stranger." "Prudent, warn't I? Dost ta think then, mon, that I've got no white in my eye? Yay, I know an honest man from a rogue when I see him. The man was as good as his word. He took me to a gentleman that gave me good security for my money, and I get my interest to this day. Many 's the time that dirty rogue of a husband o' mine has hunted the house over for th' money.