the border, under a wall-flower bush, she saw the funniest little man possible, with a blue coat, a yellow waistcoat, and red boots; he had got a small shoe on his lap, and he was stitching away at it with all his might.

"Good morning, mistress!" said the little man. "A very fine day. Why may you be looking so earnestly across the common ?"

"I was looking at my neighbour's cottage," said the young woman.

"What! Tom, the gardener's wife?—little Polly she used to be called; and a very pretty cottage it is, too! Looks thriving, doesn't it?”

'She was always lucky," said Bella (for that was the young wife's name); " and her husband is always good to her?"

"They were both good husbands at first," interrupted the little cobbler, without stopping. "Reach

me my awl, mistress, will you, for you seem to have nothing to do; it lies close by your foot."

"Well, I can't say but they were both very good husbands at first," replied Bella, reaching the awl with a sigh; "but mine has changed for the worse, and hers for the better; and then, look how she thrives. Only to think of our both being married on the same day; and now I've nothing, and she has two pigs, and a

"And a lot of flax that she spun in the winter," interrupted the cobbler; "and a Sunday gown as good green stuff as ever was seen, and to my knowledge, a handsome silk handkerchief for an apron ; and a red waistcoat for her goodman, with three rows

of blue glass buttons, and a flitch of bacon in the chimney, and a rope of onions."

Oh, she's a lucky woman!" exclaimed Bella.

Ay, and a tea-tray, with Daniel in the lions' den upon it," continued the cobbler; "and a fat baby in the cradle."

"Oh, I'm sure I don't envy her that last," said Bella, pettishly, "I've little enough for myself and my husband, letting alone children."

"Why, mistress, isn't your husband at work?" asked the cobbler.

"No; he's at the alehouse."

Why, how's that? He used to be very sober. Can't he get work?"

"His last master wouldn't keep him because he was so shabby."

"Humph!" said the little man. "He's a groom, is he not? Well, as I was saying, your neighbour opposite thrives; but no wonder! Well, I've nothing to do with other people's secrets; but I could tell you, only I'm busy and must go."

"Could tell me what?" cried the young wife. "O good cobbler, don't go, for I've nothing to do. Pray tell me why it's no wonder that she should thrive ?"

Well," said he, "it's no business of mine, you know, but, as I said before, it's no wonder people thrive who have a servant-a hardworking one too, who is always helping them."

"A servant!" repeated Bella, "my neighbour has a servant! No wonder, then, everything looks so neat about her; but I never saw this servant. I think

you must be mistaken: besides, how could she afford to pay her wages?

"

"She has a servant, I say," repeated the cobbler— "a one-eyed servant-but she pays her no wages to my certain knowledge. Well, good-morning, mistress, I must go."

28.—THE ONE-EYED SERVANT (continued).

at-ten-tive-ly vex-a-tion goose-ber-ry at-ten-tive-ly vex-a-tion goose-ber-ry

ur-gent-ly clean-li-ness en-vi-ous

ur-gent-ly

clean-li-ness

en-vi-ous

stitch-ing plen-ti-ful syl-la-bub

stitch-ing

plen-ti-ful

syl-la-bub

"Do stop one minute," cried Bella, urgently. "Where did she get this servant ?"

"Oh, I don't know," said the cobbler; "servants are plentiful enough; and Polly uses hers well, I can tell you."

"And what does she do for her?"

"Do for her! Why, all sorts of things; I think she's the cause of her prosperity. To my knowledge she never refuses to do anything-keeps Tom's and Polly's clothes in beautiful order, and the baby's.

"Dear me!" said Bella, in an envious tone, and

holding up both her hands; "well she is a lucky woman, and I always said so. She takes good care

I shall never see her servant.

What sort of a servant

is she, and how came she to have only one eye?"

"It runs in her family," replied the cobbler, stitching busily, "they are all so-one eye apiece; yet they make a very good use of it, and Polly's servant has four cousins who are blind-stone blind; no eyes at all; and they sometimes come and help her. I've seen them in the cottage myself, and that's how Polly gets a good deal of her money. They work for her, and she takes all they make to market, and buys all these handsome things."

"Only think," said Bella, almost ready to cry with vexation," and I've not got a soul to do any thing for me; how hard it is!" and she took up her apron to wipe away her tears.

The cobbler looked attentively at her. "Well, you are to be pitied, certainly," he said, "and if I was not in such a hurry

Oh, do go on, pray—were you going to say you could help me? I've heard that your people are fond of curds and whey, and fresh gooseberry syllabub. Now if you would help me, trust me that there should be the most beautiful curds and whey set every night for you on the hearth; and nobody should ever look when you went and came."

"Why, you see," said the cobbler, hésitating, "my people are extremely particular about-in short, about -cleanliness, mistress; and your house is not what one would call very clean. No offence, I hope ?"

Well, but it should be

always clean if you would-every day of my life I would wash the floor, and sand it, and the hearth should be whitewashed as white as snow, and the windows cleaned."

"Well," said the cobbler, seeming to consider, "well, then, I should not wonder if I could meet with a one-eyed servant for you, like your neighbour's; but it may be several days before I can; and mind, mistress, I'm to have a dish of curds."

Yes, and some whipped cream too," replied Bella, full of joy.

The cobbler then took up all his tools, wrapped them in his leather apron, walked behind the wallflower, and disappeared.

Bella was so delighted she could not sleep that night for joy. Her husband scarcely knew the house, she had made it so bright and clean; and by night she had washed the curtain, cleaned the window, rubbed the fire-irons, sanded the floor, and set a great jug of hawthorn in blossom on the hearth.

The next morning, Bella kept a sharp look-out both for the tiny cobbler and on her neighbour's house, to see whether she could possibly catch a glimpse of the one-eyed servant. But no, nothing could she see but her neighbour sitting on her rocking-chair, with her baby on her knee, working.

At last, when she was quite tired, she heard the voice of the cobbler outside. She ran to the door, and cried out

"Oh, do, pray, come in, sir, only look at my house!"

'Really," said the cobbler, looking round; I declare