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 „ , IN THE 
 
 AN AFFECTING TALE. 
 
 COOPERSTOWN • 
 STEREOTYPED, PRINTED AND SOLD BY H. & E. PHINNEY. 
 
 1837. 
 
CHILDREN IN THE WOOD 
 
 A GOOD little boy, whose name was Edgar, and his 
 sister, whose name was Jane, were the children of a 
 gentleman and lady who lived in Norfolk. Edgar and 
 Jane were often told, that happiness depended on good- 
 ness ; and that to be good and happy, they must love 
 each other, and never quarrel. — Admired by every body 
 for their dutiful behaviour to their father and mother, and 
 their affection to eaeh other ; they were still in their infant 
 years, when they had the misfortune of losing their kind 
 parents. 
 
 Was not this a sad thing for little Edgar and Jane ? In- 
 deed it was, and although very young, they were exceed- 
 ingly grieved when their poor sick father and mother 
 were dying. When together in the parlour, one morn- 
 ing, during their parents' illness, Jane said to her brother : 
 Jane. Edgar, will you come and play with me ? 
 Edgar. Yes, sister, but what shall we play at? we 
 must not make a noise while papa and mamma are ill. 
 
 Jane. Well, then, I will put away my dulcimer and 
 my ball, and make Dolly a frock and a cap. 
 
 Edgar. And here, sister, is the book my aunt gave 
 me : while you work, I will read you a story. 
 
 Jane. Oh, thank you, brother ; 1 shall like to hear 
 the story about the Little Girl and the Eagle. 
 
6 
 
 Children in the Wood. 
 
 Edgar. Oh, Jane, you have heard that one a great 
 many times. I will read to you about the Boy and the 
 Robin. Shall I, sister ? 
 
 Jane. Yes, brother. 
 
 Edgar. Very well : now listen to 
 
 THE BOY AND THE ROBIN, 
 
 An amusing Story. 
 
 There was once a little boy, named Charles, who was 
 very fond of biro.*, and because he was good and diligent 
 at school, his father bought him a pretty canary bird, that 
 could sing delightfully, and a bullfinch that could both 
 talk and sing so well, that he amused all the company who 
 came to the house. Being great favourites, they were 
 kept in the parlour in fine gilt cages. At dawn of 
 day, they began to warble. This sweet music always 
 waked Charles, who was obliged to rise early to at- 
 tend school. It was now no longer necessary to ring 
 the bell, which summoned Charles to his duty ; the pretty 
 warblers let him know, that he must waste no more time in 
 bed.— School was a mile distant ; so, in the summer time, 
 
Children in the Wood. 7 
 
 he left home at five o'clock in the morning-, and in winter 
 at seven. It was cold, frosty weather, when Charles was 
 trudging across the fields, with his satchel on his back. — 
 The ground was all covered with snow, and the trees 
 and the hedges were so white, that the birds hid them- 
 selves in the hedges, and if they ventured out to seek for food, 
 the sportsman's gun stopped their flight, and put an end 
 to the life of these harmless little creatures. Charles was 
 very sorry to see them killed, and said, that he would 
 never amuse himself with such a cruel diversion. Well, 
 as Charles was going across the fields to school, a Robin 
 Redbreast flew out of the hedge, and perched upon his 
 shoulder, then it hopped after him until he came to the 
 stile. Charles had in his pocket some gingerbread, that 
 was given him by his mother, so he broke it into very 
 small pieces, and fed this pretty, sociable bird. He was 
 unwilling to leave his little companion ; but, as his master 
 had desired him always to come early to school, he could 
 not stop to play in the field. So he made haste to school 
 and learned his lesson, and when he returned home, he 
 begged of his father to let him have a cage for the Robin 
 he said that he was sure he could catch it, it was so tame. 
 But his father told him, that it would be cruel to confine it 
 in a cage, and as it had sought protection of him during 
 the inclement season, he must not deprive the poor thing 
 of its liberty. The canary and bullfinch, he told him, had 
 always been accustomed to confinement ; for that reason 
 if he gave them plenty of seed and water, they would live 
 very happily in their fine gilt cages ; but the pretty Robin 
 will not like to be a prisoner. Charles then asked his 
 father how he should take care of the Robin which had 
 flown to him for protection ? You may bring him home 
 
8 
 
 Children in the Wood. 
 
 Charles, and let him fly in the great hall, but remember 
 to feed him every day. Charles assured his father, that 
 this he would never forget. With the expectation of 
 meeting his sociable companion, he rose earlier than usual 
 the next morning, although it was a very hard frost, and much 
 snow had fallen in the night. In vain, however, he walk- 
 ed very slowly through the field, to look for Redbreast. — 
 Charles returned home disappointed. It was too cold for 
 Robin to venture out. The following morning, Charles 
 went again to the field. After walking up and down two 
 or three times, and peeping very often into the hedge, out 
 flew Robin, and perched upon his hat. — Charles was very 
 glad to see him again. Very gently he pulled off his hat, 
 and took him in his hand, then gave him some crumbs of 
 bread, which he had brought on purpose for him. Poor 
 thing, it was so very hungry, that it soon eat up all the 
 bread, for the weather was so cold, that it had nothing 
 since Charles gave it the gingerbread. It lived very hap- 
 ily in the great hall all the winter, and Charles was de- 
 lighted to hear its soft note, for he did not know that a 
 Robin could sing. In the spring, when the leaves were 
 on the trees and the meadows were covered with green, 
 Robin Redbreast quitted his sheltered habitation, and wing- 
 ed his flight to the woods. Charles regretted the absence 
 of his little friendly companion ; but, as he had the pleas- 
 ure of seeing him in the field frequently, when he went to 
 school, he hoped he might again afford him protection in 
 the ensuing winter. 
 
 Jane. Go on, brother. 
 
 Edgar. There is no more, Jane ; I have finshcd the 
 story. 
 
huh ■HMH«MPHMHHHHH| 
 
 Children in the Wood. 9 
 
 Jane. I am sorry that is the end. I should like to 
 know if the Robin ever came back to Charles. 
 
 Edgar. So should I. I love Robin Redbreast. 
 
 Jane. If Robin came here, we would give him some 
 bread and some cake. 
 
 Edgar. Oh, J ane, what pretty bird is that pecking at 
 the window ? I believe it is Redbreast. 
 
 Jane. Let us open the window, Edgar, and it will 
 come in. Pretty creature, it seems very hungry. 
 
 Edgar. I am afraid it will fly away, when we open 
 the window. 
 
 Jane. We will open it very softly : oh ! it is gone, 
 we have frightened it ! 
 
 Edgar. Well, don't let us make a noise, Jane ; per- 
 haps it will come back presently. 
 
 Jane. I think I see it in that high tree. 
 
 Edgar. Yes, it is coming : now it is in the bush. If 
 I put the cake outside the window, I dare say it will 
 return. 
 
 Jane. Here it is, brother ; I am very glad. 
 Edgar. Don't frighten it, sister ; oh, how prettily it 
 pecks ! it pecks out of my hand. 
 
 Jane. And, brother, it eats too what I give it. It has 
 almost pecked up all the cake. 
 
 Edgar. Then I will get it some more. 
 
 Jane. Brother, brother, it is gone. 
 
 Edgar. Oh, dear ! Pretty Robin, I wish it would 
 come and stay with me, as it did with Charles. 
 
 Jane. It will not ; it is quite gone, brother ; I see it 
 a great way off. 
 
 Edgar. I am very sorry j I hope it will come again. 
 
10 
 
 Children in the Wood. 
 
 Here one of the servants, with tears in her eyes, came 
 and told them, that their poor father and mother, who 
 were dying, had sent for them up stairs. — They did not 
 know what dying meant ; so they left the parlour, happy 
 to go to their kind parents. 
 
 The children on entering the room, ran to embrace 
 them, and while they were proving the affection of their 
 innocent hearts, they burst into tears, for they now saw 
 their father and mother worse than ever ; very pale, and 
 
 hardly able to speak. " My dear children," said the 
 father, in a feeble voice, " I sent for you to receive my last 
 blessing, as it is the will of Almighty God that I should 
 shortly leave you. He is the only giver of all good ; pray 
 to him night and morning for his protection. — This, my 
 dear children, I have often told you ; but remember now, 
 that I can never tell it to you again." 
 
 His feeble voice was almost exhausted ; but pausing, 
 he revived again and added, " When I am in my grave, 
 
Children in the Wood. 11 
 
 your uncle will take you home to his house ; vou must 
 then obey him as you do me^ and I hope you will always 
 be good and happy." He was quite tired with this ex- 
 ertion, for he had but a few minutes longer to live. 
 Tenderly embracing them again and again, he bid them 
 adieu, until they should meet in another world. Scarcely 
 had he uttered these words, when his weeping infants be- 
 held him close his eyes in death. — This gentleman's broth- 
 er, the children's uncle, had come to visit him during his 
 illness. He recommended the children to his care, telling 
 hiin that he had no other friend on earth, and unless that 
 he was good to his boy and girl, they might be greatly 
 injured.— "You must," said he, "be father, mother, and 
 uncle, all in one ; for I know not what will become of our 
 dear children when we are dead and gone." Their moth- 
 er then begged of him to be very kind to her sweet babes. 
 "On you," said she, " dear brother, depends our children's 
 happiness, or misery, in this world ; and God will reward 
 you according as you act towards them." — With many 
 tears she bid Edgar and Jane farewell ; clasping them in 
 her arms, and commending them to the protection of the 
 Almighty, she reclined her head on the pillow, repeating 
 "God bless you! God bless you, my dear children !" 
 After saying this, she was never heard to speak again. 
 
 The uncle had promised his brother and sister he would 
 do all they had asked of him ; but how faithfully he kept 
 his promise will be seen by and by. He lived in a fine 
 house, surrounded with a large park, a great many miles 
 distant ; so he ordered his servants to prepare the carriage 
 that he might take home these littJe orphans to his elegant 
 mansion. In the mean time he opened his brother's will, 
 
12 
 
 Children in the Wood. 
 
 which made him the guardian of the property left for Ed 
 gar and Jane. Edgar was to inherit three hundred 
 pounds a year when he was of age ; Jane's portion was 
 five hundred pounds in gold, to be given her on the day 
 she was married; but in case they died while infants, 
 their uncle was to take possession of the whole fortune. 
 
 All the neighbours were much grieved at the death of 
 this gentleman and lady. The rich regretted the loss of 
 two worthy friends, whose society was always pleasing 
 and agreeable ; while the poor lamented them, because 
 that they were deprived of kind and benevolent protectors. 
 
 The little orphans were still weeping, when their uncle 
 sent for them, and bid them cry no more. They remem- 
 bered their father's dying words, which charged them to 
 obey their uncle, so they wiped away their tears, though 
 they remained very dull for a long time afterwards. 
 
 The carriage was now ready to convey them to their un- 
 cle's seat, and with heavy hearts they left their native home. 
 ^ After travelling about ten miles, they stopped at a small 
 village for the coachman to relresh his horses. As Edgar 
 and Jane were regretting the loss of their good parents, 
 they had not been so cheerful on their journey as usual, so 
 their uncle determined to stay here about an hour, and 
 strive to amuse them by walking about. It was a very 
 pretty place, and being the residence of several wealthy 
 families, was adorned with elegant houses, and grounds 
 beautifully laid out. — On. alighting from the carriage, they 
 inquired the name of this delightful village. It was the 
 Vale of Content. The beauty and good order of it were 
 really remarkable ; and notwithstanding the number of 
 poor cottages, there was not one beggar or idle person. 
 
Children in the IV cod. 
 
 18 
 
 Now, how do you think this happened ? — Because that 
 the rich took care to assist the poor, and see that their chil- 
 dren were well employed as soon as they were able to 
 work, and this was the reason that the inhabitants were 
 all happy, and that they called their residence the Vale of 
 Content. A few years since, a Large commodious work- 
 house was erected for the reception of those poor, whom 
 age or illness rendered burdens to their families. Here 
 were likewise received all the poor little boys and girls 
 who had lost their parents ; and these helpless orphans 
 were supported and educated at the expense of the par- 
 ish. — Edgar and Jane were passing this building white 
 the children were amusing themselves. Some were play- 
 ing at trap and ball, some at marbles, whilst others were 
 
 reading little story books which had been given them as 
 the reward for their diligence. At the sound of a bell they 
 all quitted their amusements and returned into the house to 
 employ themselves in reading or writing, and be instructed 
 in those trades by which they were to gain their livelihood 
 
14 
 
 Children in the Wood. 
 
 m future. They were now all assembled, and the spin- 
 ning wheels and weaving machines began to move so 
 briskly, that the noise surprized Edgar and Jane very 
 much, who stood peeping through the rails. One of the 
 overseers drew near the window to pull down the sash, and 
 observing the three strangers, begged of them to walk in. 
 Very willingly they accepted the invitation, and ascend- 
 ing a few steps, entered a long room, on one side of 
 which were placed the spinners, and on the other side the 
 weavers. The spinning consisted of wool, which was 
 brought here in large quantities at the time of sheep-shear- 
 mg. — This store lasted all the winter until the returning 
 season for collecting this useful commodity. Some were 
 employed in picking and combing it, while others stand- 
 ing at little wheels made on purpose for children, prepar- 
 ed it for weaving and knitting. 
 
 When spun it is called Worsted, from a town in Nor- 
 folk, famous for woollen manufactures. The art of weav- 
 ing was brought into England in the year 1331, and hav- 
 ing been much practised ever since, is now arrived at very 
 
Children in the Wood. 
 
 15 
 
 great perfection. The loom, and the machine by which 
 the balls of worsted were wound into skeins, were con- 
 sidered very wonderful inventions by the travellers, who 
 had never seen such a manufactory before. The spinners, 
 the winders, and the weavers, would have engaged their 
 attention longer, had they not been asked to visit other 
 rooms, where reading, writing and knitting, were going 
 forwards. All they saw amused them very much : but at 
 last their uncle summoned them to leave this little seat of 
 
 industry, and to return to the carriage ; for he said he was 
 afraid they would scarcely reach his house before the close 
 of the day. With that prompt obedience which all good 
 children show, even to the wish of a parent, they instantly 
 complied, and accompanied by their uncle, left this^ well- 
 ordered school of industry. In repassing the Yale of 
 Content, Edgar and Jane again admired the beauty, the 
 order, and the neatness that reigned there. But their un- 
 cle, who had no taste for the simple pleasures which ap- 
 peared to favour the happiness of the people in this village, 
 hastened the children on to the carriage. The coach 
 
16 Children in the Wood. 
 
 drove fast, and about seven o'clock in the evening, they 
 reached an elegant, spacious mansion, placed in an exten- 
 sive park, which was well stocked with deer. Their un- 
 cle now told them that this was his dwelling, and that it 
 was called Bashaw Castle.— They all alighted from the 
 carriage ; and the children being wearied with their day's 
 excursion, even novelty lost with them all power of at- 
 traction, and they begged permission to go to bed : so they 
 wished their uncle good night, and Betty lighted them up 
 to their chambers. Like good children, who had been 
 well instructed, they immediately knelt down and said 
 their prayers, for no fatigue could make them forget this 
 duty.— But though so tired, instead of falling asleep di- 
 rectly, as might have been expected, the stillness of the 
 night, and the gloom which to weak minds seems always 
 attendant on darkness, brought back to their minds the re- 
 membrance of their loved parents, who were now, alas ! 
 lost to them for ever. Many a tear did they shed at this 
 recollection ; but sleep at length overpowered them : and 
 in the morning they arose with the happy spirits of youth. 
 They now descended, hand in hand, walked about, and 
 gazed at all the fine things they saw : they looked with 
 astonishment at the spacious halls, the lofty chambers, the 
 extensive flower gardens, and the fine hot-houses. 
 
 How different is all this, said Edgar, from my father's 
 small house, his nice orchard and pretty cornfields ? 
 
 Jane. So it is, Edgar ; but I liked home better, be- 
 cause papa and mamma were with us then, and they were 
 so good and indulgent, that we were always happy. 
 
 Edgar. Yes, sister, so we were. But I think my 
 uncle must be very happy too, with so many good things 
 around him, and such a fine house. 
 
Children in the Wood* 
 
 17 
 
 Master Edgar little thought that his uncle, tho' thus 
 surrounded with seeming plenty and luxury, was a stran 
 ger to all felicity ; for he was very wicked, and had there 
 fore no internal comfort, in which happiness consists ; he 
 passed his days in idleness ; he seldom read his bible, or 
 any other good book, nor did he attend any place for di- 
 vine worship, which might be one reason why he contin- 
 ued so wicked. His amusements even were barbarous : he 
 was very fond of cock-fighting, and such inhuman diver- 
 sions. Eating and drinking merely for the indulgence ol 
 appetite, was his great delight ; and he would pass half his 
 days in playing at cards. Though he possessed a great 
 deal of money, he was so extravagant, and ordered so many 
 more things than he had money to pay for, that he felt 
 constantly the distress of poverty, and was unjust, because 
 he did not pay his debts. 
 
 And here, my young friends, I have with sorrow placed 
 before you the character of a very wicked man, and shown 
 you what conduct it was that led him to the horrid crime 
 of intended murder ! You will, I am sure, turn from the 
 picture with aversion ; yet I wish you to dwell upon it 
 sufficiently to avoid similar faults yourselves. 
 
 Edgar and Jane, though very good children, still, like 
 other very young persons, required from time to time, 
 admonition from some wise friend. They had lost those 
 tender parents that would have guided them to all good, 
 and their uncle never heeded them ; whether they did well 
 or ill, he regarded it not. So Jane would sometimes work, 
 and sometimes would Edgar read to her out of the pretty 
 little books his father had formerly given them ; but very 
 often would they throw aside their work and books, and 
 
18 
 
 Children in the Wood. 
 
 walk in the fields to behold the beauties of nature. But these 
 poor little children had no one to remind them that it was 
 wrong to be idle, so they were not so much to blame as 
 those who act ill, notwithstanding they receive good counsel* 
 
 Their uncle's estate, from his negligence and extrava- 
 gance, was going quite to ruin. His land was no longer 
 fruitful as formerly, because it wanted proper culture; and, 
 in consequence of all this, his income was considerably 
 lessened. He often meditated on some way by which he 
 could get money ; and from his wicked deeds, having lost 
 the favour of the Almighty, and being no longer under the 
 
Children in the Wood. 
 
 19 
 
 jruidance of his grace, what wicked thought do you think 
 W as permitted to enter his head ? The shocking one of 
 murdering the pretty little children, of whom he was the 
 guardian, that he might possess their fortune. Now, in- 
 stead of instantly repressing this horrid thought, he indulged 
 it, paused upon it, revolved it in his mind, and at length 
 determined to put in execution the barbarous suggestion of 
 this dark moment. How bad, how wicked may man be- 
 come, if forsaken by an offended God ' Mark this example 
 of moral depravity. He was at first idle, extravagant, and 
 now he is ready to commit murder. He resolves to do it j 
 but to conceal his cruelty, he told his wife and all his ac. 
 quaintances that he would send his little nephew and niece 
 to a relation of his in London, that they might be there 
 educated. 
 
 The children were very happy in the expectation of 
 this journey, for their uncle said they should go on horse- 
 back ; and at the sight of the horses they rejoiced exceed- 
 ingly. But this cruel man had hired two ruffians to exe- 
 
20 Children in the Wood. 
 
 cute the barbarous deed which he had planned. With 
 these two frightful men, then did little Edgar and Jane set 
 out. All the way they were very merry, and their inno- 
 cent prattle and gentle behaviour began to soften the hearts 
 of these two ruffians, named Ned and Dick, and they re- 
 pented that they had engaged to murder them.— Yet Dick 
 said that he would do [it, as he had been largely paid bv 
 
 kTu T 1 ?' Ned had likewise received as m«ch money 
 but he declared that he could not do this wicked deed 
 
 Now they had travelled all day, and it was sun set when 
 they entered a thick wood. They left the horses at the 
 entrance of the wood, and they walked some distance 
 through several narrow winding paths, Ned and Dick 
 quarrelling all the way, because that one would, and the 
 other would not murder these poor children. At last they 
 fought, and Ned being the strongest, killed his adversary. 
 Trembling with fright, little Edgar and Jane beheld the 
 
Children in the Wood. 
 
 21 
 
 shocking battle. The contest ended, the ruffian who had 
 with furious blows murdered his companion, turned to the 
 children, and bade them cry no more. Taking Edgar by 
 the hand, and carrying little Jane in his arms, two long 
 miles he led them on. Poor babes ! The ruffian now re- 
 solved to leave them in the dismal forest to perish with 
 cold and hunger. They often asked him for food : at 
 length he said he would fetch them some. So he left 
 them, telling them to wait for his return; but it was not his 
 intention to return. In vain did little Edgar and Jane wander 
 up and down the thick wood to look for Ned. At one time 
 they sat down and repeated some verses which they had 
 learnt, and then arising from their mossy seat, they walked 
 again in search of Ned, but, alas ! he was not to be seen. 
 In vain did they call upon him to come and bring them 
 food : Cruel creature ! he was quite gone from the poor 
 helpless babes. Hand in hand they wandered in the dis- 
 mal forest, picking black-berries from many a bush to 
 
22 
 
 Children in the Wood. 
 
 satisfy keen hunger, till dark night drew on, and they sunk 
 exhausted on the cold ground. 
 
 They had not lain many minutes, when an old woman 
 happened to pass that way. She was very poor, and had 
 been spinning all day to get a few hard earned pence, and 
 had come out in the dusk of evening to collect some sticks 
 to make her fire. She saw these children. " What mer- 
 ciless wretch," she exclaimed, "has left these little inno- 
 cents thus to perish ! Whoever it is, their wicked purpose 
 shall be defeated, for I will take them home, I will warm 
 them by my fire, I will feed them with my supper." 
 
 le rich and ye affluent, who sometimes neglect to do 
 good, take an example from this poor woman : see, though 
 so poor, she can show pity, and perform a deed of charity. 
 
 As the old woman was passing along with the children, 
 Ned, the ruffian, passed them. He was returning into the 
 wood to seek these babes ; for though he intended to let 
 them remain to perish, he had not resolution to do so : 
 but when he saw they had found protection, he passed 
 
Children in the Wood- 
 
 23 
 
 silently on, and the children being senseless, no one knew 
 him He determined, however, to stay for two or three 
 days in the neighbouring village, that he might see what 
 became of these little orphans, which he accordingly did. 
 Now the good woman took them to her little cot ; there 
 she cherished them, warmed them, fed them, and being too 
 poor to support them wholly herself, she got admittance for 
 them in the School of Industry, which was in the village near 
 her. This school was supported by the bounty of all 
 the wealthy families in the parish. Here little Edgar and 
 Jane were taken good care of ; were well instructed, and 
 taught to be very good and very industrious. 1 hey were 
 considered as very poor children, and so -ally they were 
 now. Jane learned to read, to write, to work, to knit, and 
 to spin : and Edgar was taught to read, to write, and to be 
 a gardener. One Sunday, a charity sermon was preached 
 for the benefit of this school, and they all joined in sing- 
 ing an appropriate hymn. 
 
24 
 
 Children in the Wood. 
 
 The children at this school were taught to be very good, 
 and the masters and instructers took so much care of them, 
 that they were very happy. — Little Edgar and Jane re- 
 mained here quite concealed from all their former friends ; 
 and, as they were supposed to be no longer inhabitants of 
 this world, their wicked uncle became the possessor of all 
 their fortune ; but as he acquired his riches unjustly and 
 cruelly, he could not enjoy them, for his guilty conscience 
 always tormented him. If his friends came to visit him, 
 he was not cheerful enough to amuse them ; and at night, 
 when he retired to rest, he was afraid to close his eyes, for 
 then frightful dreams presented themselves to his imagina- 
 tion. In his sleep, he thought he saw the ruffians stabbing 
 the two infants which had been left under his care, while 
 they, poor children, clung to him for protection, which he 
 inhumanly refused. Sometimes he dreamed that the wrath 
 of God punished him for wickedness, by depriving him of 
 his wealth, his house, his lands, and his money, so that he 
 was brought to extreme indigence, and even implored his 
 daily subsistence of the passing crowd : and that his chil- 
 dren did not exist to succour him in this wretched situation. 
 At present, this was only a dream ; but soon, very soon, he 
 suffered in reality what his guilty conscience had so often 
 terrified him with in sleep ; and though he now felt the 
 displeasure of Almighty God, he neither repented, nor ever 
 prayed for forgiveness. He possessed a great deal of land 
 that produced plentiful crops of corn and hay. Harvest 
 was just now over, and his barns entirely filled, for the 
 season was remarkably fine and hot. One night, during 
 this sultry weather, the sky darkened, and a dreadful 
 storm arose. Incessantly the lightning flashed, and the 
 
Children in the Wood. 
 
 25 
 
 thunder rolled. As he could not sleep, he was walking 
 about his room, very much agitated, when he beheld, with 
 terror and amazement, the fire from heaven fall on the 
 thatched roofs of his barns, and consume in a few hours 
 the vast store he had collected with so much anxiety. 
 
 Winter approached and brought a severe frost, and as 
 all his out-houses, his corn, and his hay, were burned by 
 the lightning, his cattle were now exposed, without food 
 or shelter, to the inclemency of the season : so they all 
 perished in the fields. 
 
 Having lost so much of his fortune, he was obliged to 
 send his sons from home. A merchant in Portugal prom- 
 ised to employ them, and they set sail with the hope of 
 being his clerks ; but the vessel had not yet left the coast 
 of England, when it struck on a fatal rock, and these unfor- 
 tunate boys perished on the wreck amidst the dashing 
 waves. — When their wicked parent received the news of 
 their death, he gave himself up to despair, and instead of 
 jeing resigned to the punishment inflicted by heaven, and 
 exerting himself as an honest and prudent man would 
 have done, to retrieve his fortune, he extravagantly spent 
 the remainder of his money. His guilt, together with the 
 
26 
 
 Children in the Wood. 
 
 misfortunes that had befallen him, as a punishment for his 
 wickedness, prevented his settling - in any business ; so 
 continued idleness soon brought him to the extreme of pov- 
 erty. He mortgaged his land, and when he had expend- 
 ed this sum for his daily subsistence, he pawned his watch, 
 and some of the fine clothes he had worn when he was a 
 rich man. Now, that he had nothing more to support 
 himself, he contracted still larger debts, which he could 
 never discharge \ so his creditors put him in prison, and 
 here he ended his days miserably, without a friend to com- 
 fort him or relieve his distress. Thus it pleased Almighty 
 God that he should suffer ! Wickedness even in this 
 world, seldom goes unpunished, though goodness does not 
 always meet with its reward on earth. 
 
 The ruffian Ned, who had left poor little Edgar and 
 Jane in the forest, had generally lived b}' plunder. He 
 had robbed many a traveller of his money, and pursued 
 this course of life for a long time undiscovered ; but at 
 length he was brought to justice, and condemned to die 
 for the last robbery he had committed. Soon after his sen- 
 tence was pronounced, he confessed how wicked he had 
 been, and that he had been hired to murder poor little 
 Edgar and Jane. He then related the circumstances of 
 their journey, and that he had left them alone in a forest to 
 perish ; but that some old woman had found them, and 
 placed them in a parish school. This account very much 
 affected the judge, and all who were present. 
 
 The ruffian, as he went to the gallows, appeared very 
 penitent for all the bad actions of his past life. He ex- 
 horted his companions, whom he was leaving in pris- 
 on, to avoid in future, if they were acquitted, those 
 crimes for which he acknowledged that he was receiving a 
 
Children in the Wood. 27 
 
 justly merited punishment. After praying- earnestly to be 
 forgiven all his sins, he ascended the scaffold, and soon 
 entered on an endless eternity. 
 
 The wicked uncle, who we before said was imprisoned 
 for debt, and who died in his confinement, having left no 
 child to heir his encumbered estate, Edgar and Jane, whom 
 the ruffian Ned had publicly, and with his dying breath, 
 declared were put into a parish school, were enquired for, 
 found, brought forth into the world, and put in possession 
 of Bashmo Park, which soon changed its name for that 
 of Happy Dell. Here they long lived in uninterrupted 
 peace. The rich loved them for their goodness and cour- 
 teousness, the poor blessed them for their charity and kind- 
 ness ; and the poor old woman who had formerly placed 
 them in the School of Industry, they took home, and 
 repaid the service she had done them, by shewing her un 
 remitted kind attentions to the last day of her life. 
 
THE 
 
 CHILDREN IN THE WOOD. 
 
 A favourite Ballad. 
 
 NOW ponder well, yon parents dear, 
 The words which I shall write ; 
 A doleful story you shall hear, 
 
 Which time brought forth to light ; 
 A gentleman of good account, 
 
 Jn Norfolk liv'd of late, 
 Whose wealth and riches did surmount 
 Most men of his estate. 
 
 Sore sick he was, and like to die, 
 
 No help his life could save ; 
 His wife by him as sick did lio, 
 
 And both possess d one grave. 
 No love between these two was lost, 
 
 Each was to other kind ; 
 In love they liv'd, in love they dy'd, 
 
 And left two babes behind" 
 
 The one a fine and pretty boy, 
 
 Not passing five years old ; 
 T'other a girl more young than he, 
 
 And made in beauty's mould. 
 The father left his little son, 
 
 As plainly doth appear, 
 When he to perfect age should come, 
 
 Three hundred pounds a year. 
 
 And to his little daughterJane 
 Five hundred pounds in gold, 
 
 To be paid down on marriage day, 
 Which might not be controul'd ; 
 
Children in the TV ood. 
 
 But if the children chanc'd to die, 
 Ere they to age should come, 
 
 Their uncle should possess their wealth, 
 For so the will did run. 
 
 "Now, brother, " said the dying man, 
 
 1 Look to my children dear, 
 Be good unto my boy and girl, 
 
 ]No friends else have I here ; 
 To God and you I do commend 
 
 My chddren night and day ; 
 But little while besure we have 
 
 Within this world to stay. 
 
 " You must be father and mother both, 
 
 And uncle, all in one, 
 God knows what will become of them, 
 
 Whe n 1 am dead and gone." 
 With that bespoke their mother dear, 
 
 " O, brother kind !" quoth she, 
 " You are the man must bring our babes 
 
 To wealth or misery. 
 
 " And if you keep them carefully, 
 
 Then God will you reward, 
 If otherwise you seem to deal, 
 
 God will your deeds regard." 
 With lips as cold as an}' stone, 
 
 She kiss'd her children small, 
 " God bless vou both, my children dear, 
 
 With that the tears did fall. 
 
 These speeches then the brother spoke 
 
 To this sick couple there, 
 " The keeping of your children dear, 
 
 Swest sister da not fear ; 
 God never prosper me nor mine, 
 
 Nor ought else that I have, 
 If I do wrong your children dear, 
 
 When you're laid in the grave." 
 
 Their parents being dead and gone, 
 The children home he takes, 
 
 And seem'd to soften all their moan, 
 So much of them he makes. 
 
 He had not kept these pretty babes 
 A twelvemonth and a day, 
 
Children in the Wood. 
 
 When for their wealth he did devise 
 To take their lives away. 
 
 He bargained with two ruffians rude, 
 
 Which were of furious mood, 
 That they should take these children youn| 
 
 And slay them in a wood. 
 He told his wife and all he had, 
 
 He did the children send, 
 To be brought up in fair London, 
 
 With one that was their friend. 
 
 Away then went these pretty babes, 
 
 Rejoicing- at that tide, 
 Rejoicing with a merry mind, 
 
 While they on horseback ride : 
 They prate and prattle pleasantly 
 
 As they rode on the wav, 
 To those that should their "butchers be, 
 
 And work their lives' decay. 
 
 So that the pretty speech they said, 
 
 Made th' murd'iers' hearts relent, 
 For tho' they undertook the deed, 
 
 Full sore they did repent. 
 Yet one: of them more hard of heart, 
 
 Did vow to do his charge, 
 Because the wretch that hired him, 
 
 Had paid him very large. 
 
 The other would not agree thereto, 
 
 So here they fell to strife, 
 With one another they did fight, 
 
 About (he children's life; 
 And he that was of mildest mood, 
 
 Did slay the other there, 
 Within an unfrequented wood, 
 
 While babes did quake with fear. 
 
 He took the children by the hand 
 
 While tears stood in their eye, 
 And bade them go along with him, 
 
 And told them not to cry ; 
 And two long miles he led them on, 
 
 While they for food complain'd ; 
 " Stay here" quoth he, " I'll bring you bread, 
 
 When 1 do come again." 
 
Children in the Wood. 
 
 These pretty babes, with hand in hand, 
 
 Went wand 'ring up and down, 
 But never more they saw the man 
 
 Approaching from the town. 
 Their pretty lips with blackberries 
 
 Were all besmear'd and dy'd, 
 And when they saw the darksome night 
 
 They sat them down and cry'd. 
 
 And now th heavy wrath of God 
 
 Upon their uncle fell ; 
 Yea, fearful fiends did haunt his house, 
 
 His conscience felt a hell. 
 His barns wer? fir'd, his goods consum' 
 
 His lands were barren made ; 
 His cattle died within the field, 
 
 And nothing with him staid. 
 
 And in a voyage to Portugal, 
 
 Two of his sons did die, 
 And to conclude, himself was brought 
 
 To extreme misery ; 
 He pawn'd and mortgag e! all his land, 
 
 Ere seven years came about, 
 And now at length this wicked act, 
 
 Did by this means come out. 
 
 The fellow that did take in hand, 
 
 These children for to kill, 
 Was for a robbery adjudg'd to die, 
 
 As was God's blessed will : 
 He did confess the very truth, 
 
 The which is here expressd': 
 Their uncle died, while he, for debt, 
 
 In prison long did rest. 
 
 All you that be executors made, 
 
 And overseers eke, 
 Of children that be fatherless, 
 
 And infants mild and meek ; 
 Take you example by this thing, 
 
 And yield to each his right, 
 Lest God with such like misery, 
 
 Your wicked deeds requite.