Mr. Everard. Well, Charles, you seem to be in deep meditation. Pray, what are you thinking about?

Charles. I was thinking, sir, how happy it is for us that we are not in the place of that poor weaver whose cottage we just passed by.

Mr. Ev. It is very right to be sensible of all the advantages that Providence has bestowed upon us in this world, and I commend you for reflecting on them with gratitude. But what particular circumstance of comparison between our condition and his struck you most just now?

Ch. O, almost everything! I could not bear to live in such a poor house, with a cold clay floor, and half the windows stopped with paper. Then how poorly he and his children are dressed! and I dare say they must live as poorly too.

Mr. Ev. These things would be grievous enough to you, I do not doubt, because you have been accustomed to a very different way of living. But if they are healthy and contented, I don’t know that we have much more to boast of. I believe the man is able to procure wholesome food for his family, and clothes and firing enough to keep them from suffering from the cold; and nature wants little more.

Ch. But, what a ragged, barefooted fellow the boy at the door was!

Mr. Ev. He was—but did you observe his ruddy cheeks, and his stout legs, and the smiling grin upon his countenance? It is my opinion he would beat you in running, though he is half the head less; and I dare say he never cried because he did not know what to do with himself, in his life.

Ch. But, sir, you have often told me that the mind is the noblest part of man; and these poor creatures, I am sure, can have no opportunity to improve their minds. They must be as ignorant as the brutes, almost.

Mr. Ev. Why so? Do you think there is no knowledge to be got but from books; or that a weaver cannot teach his children right from wrong?

Ch. Not if he has never learned himself.

Mr. Ev. True—but I hope the country we live in is not so unfriendly to a poor man, as to afford him no opportunity of learning his duty to God and his neighbour. And as to other points of knowledge, necessity and common observation will teach him a good deal. But come—let us go and pay him a visit, for I doubt you hardly think them human creatures.

Mr. Ev. Good morning to you, friend! Don’t let us disturb you all, pray. We have just stepped in to look at your work.

Jacob. I have very little to show you, gentlemen; but you are welcome to look on. Perhaps the young gentleman never saw weaving before.

Ch. I never did, near.

Jac. Look here, then, master. These long threads are the warp. They are divided, you see, into two sets, and I pass my shuttle between them, which carries with it the cross threads, and that makes the weft. (Explains the whole to him.)

Ch. Dear! how curious! And is all cloth made this way, papa?

Mr. Ev. Yes; only there are somewhat different contrivances for different kinds of work. Well, how soon do you think you could learn to weave like this honest man?

Ch. O—not for a great while?

Mr. Ev. But I suppose you could easily turn the wheel, and draw out threads like that good woman?

Ch. Not without some practice, I fancy. But what is that boy doing?

Jac. He is cutting pegs for the shoemakers, master.

Ch. How quick he does them!

Jac. It is but poor employment, but better than being idle. The first lesson I teach my children is, that their hands were made to get their bread with.

Mr. Ev. And a very good lesson, too.

Ch. What is this heap of twigs for?

Jac. Why, master, my biggest boy and girl have learned a little how to make basket-work, so I have got them a few osiers to employ them at leisure hours. That bird-cage is their making: and the back of that chair in which their grandmother sits.

Ch. Is not that cleverly done, papa?

Mr. Ev. It is, indeed. Here are several arts, you see, in this house, which both you and I should be much puzzled to set about. But there are some books, too, I perceive.

Ch. Here is a bible, and a testament, and a prayer-book, and a spelling book, and a volume of the Gardener’s Dictionary.

Mr. Ev. And how many of your family can read, my friend?

Jac. All the children but the two youngest can read a little, sir; but Meg, there, is the best scholar among us. She reads us a chapter in the Testament every morning, and very well, too, though I say it.

Mr. Ev. Do you hear that, Charles?

Ch. I do, sir. Here’s an almanac, too, against the wall; and here are my favourite ballads of the Children in the Wood, and Chevy-chase.

Jac. I let the children paste them up, sir, and a few more that have no harm in them. There’s Hearts of Oak, and Rule Britannia, and Robin Gray.

Mr. Ev. A very good choice, indeed. I see you have a pretty garden there behind the house.

Jac. It is only a little spot, sir; but it serves for some amusement, and use too.

Ch. What beautiful stocks and wall-flowers! We have none so fine in our garden.

Jac. Why, master, to say the truth, we are rather proud of them. I have got a way of cultivating them, that I believe few besides myself are acquainted with; and on Sundays I have plenty of visiters to come and admire them.

Ch. Pray, what is this bush with narrow whitish leaves and blue flowers?

Jac. Don’t you know? It is rosemary.

Ch. Is it good for anything?

Jac. We like the smell of it; and then the leaves, mixed with a little balm, make pleasant tea, which we sometimes drink in the afternoon.

Ch. Here are several more plants that I never saw before.

Jac. Some of them are pot-herbs, that we put into our broth or porridge; and others are physic herbs, for we cannot afford to go to a doctor for every trifling ailment.

Ch. But how do you learn the use of these things?

Jac. Why, partly, master, from an old herbal that I have got; and partly from my good mother and some old neighbours; for we poor people are obliged to help one another as well as we can. If you were curious about plants, I could go into the fields, and show you a great many that we reckon very fine for several uses, though I suppose we don’t call them by the proper names.

Mr. Ev. You keep your garden very neat, friend, and seem to make the most of every inch of ground.

Jac. Why, sir, we have hands enough, and all of us like to be doing a little in it when our in-doors work is over. I am in hopes soon to be allowed a bit of land from the waste for a potato-ground, which will be a great help to us. I shall then be able to keep a pig.

Mr. Ev. I suppose, notwithstanding your industry, you live rather hardly sometimes?

Jac. To be sure, sir, we are somewhat pinched in dear times and hard weather; but, thank God, I have constant work, and my children begin to be some help to us, so that we fare better than some of our neighbours. If I do but keep my health, I don’t fear but we shall make a shift to live.

Mr. Ev. Keep such a contented mind, my friend, and you will have few to envy. Good morning to you, and if any sickness or accident should befall you, remember you have a friend in your neighbour at the hall.

Jac. I will, sir, and thank you.

Ch. Good morning to you.

Jac. The same to you, master.

Mr. Ev. Well, Charles, what do you think of our visit?

Ch. I am highly pleased with it, sir. I shall have a better opinion of a poor cottager as long as I live.

Mr. Ev. I am glad of it. You see when we compare ourselves with this weaver, all the advantage is not on our side. He is possessed of an art, the utility of which secures him a livelihood, whatever may be the changes of the times. All his family are brought up to industry, and show no small ingenuity in their several occupations. They are not without instruction, and especially seem to be in no want of that best of all, the knowledge of their duty. They understand something of the cultivation and uses of plants, and are capable of receiving enjoyment from the beauties of nature. They partake of the pleasures of home and neighbourhood. Above all they seem content with their lot, and free from anxious cares and repinings. I view them as truly respectable members of society, acting well the part allotted to them, and that, a part most of all necessary to the well-being of the whole. They may, from untoward accidents, be rendered objects of our compassion, but they never can of our contempt.

Ch. Indeed, sir, I am very far from despising them now. But would it not be possible to make them more comfortable than they are at present?

Mr. Ev. I think it would; and when giving a little from the superfluity of persons in our situation would add so much to the happiness of persons in theirs, I am of opinion that it is unpardonable not to do it. I intend to use my interest to get this poor man the piece of waste land he wants, and he shall have some from my share rather than go without.

Ch. And suppose, sir, we were to give him some good potatoes to plant it?

Mr. Ev. We will. Then, you know, we have a fine sow, that never fails to produce a numerous litter twice a year. Suppose we rear one of the next brood to be ready for him as soon as he has got his potato-ground into bearing?

Ch. O yes! that will be just the thing. But how is he to build a pigsty?

Mr. Ev. You may leave that to his own ingenuity! I warrant he can manage such a job as that with the help of a neighbour, at least. Well—I hope both the weaver, and you, will be the better for the acquaintance we have made to-day; and always remember, that man, when fulfilling the duties of his station, be that station what it may, is a worthy object of respect to his fellow-men.