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They said so in their rough way; and he could see what was in their thoughts. As to the Brokenford people, he did not see or hear of them till he came to live at Thornlea cottage.

It was the first Sunday that the new church was opened for divine service. How delightful it was to hear the bells sounding over the wild commons and woods, where such music had never been heard before; and to see the troops of cottagers, in the best clothes they had, on their way to church from the different hamlets!

Mr. Morton was walking with his wife from his own house, and stopping from time to time to speak to some of the poor folks, and observing who were coming to church. There were more than he hoped, for almost all came who could. Women brought their babies rather than be kept at home by them; and the old got along as well as they could with their sticks or crutches. Many who had not had strength to reach the distant parish church, came to this new one full of joy and gratitude. Others came from curiosity to see what it was like; others because their neighbours did; and some because they hoped to make friends of Mr. and Mrs. Morton. However, Mr. Morton hoped that even these would feel that God's house was a holy place, and would try to join in the prayers of the Church. He thought that even those who came from bad reasons might hear and learn something which would give them right and good motives for coming again.

He looked towards the path that led from Brokenford; for he hoped that some of those reckless people might be induced, for some reason or other, to come like the rest; and it was his earnest prayer that the new church might be the means, through God's blessing, of causing them to amend their lives. Alas! out of some thirty people who lived there, he saw only one woma slowly coming up the path. When she reached the road which the other villagers were taking, she still went alone. No one spoke to

her, and she looked at none, but kept her head down, and stopped a minute at the churchyard-gate, as if she feared to enter.

Mr. Morton now saw that she was a young girl, not more than sixteen, but lame, and unable to walk without a stick. Her dress was shabby and flimsy, but clean; and she seemed to have taken some pains to make a decent appearance. She coloured if any one looked at her, and seemed shy and frightened. When Mr. Morton was just going to begin the service, he saw her come in and take her place in a corner. The sexton shewed her where to go in the open benches, which were free to every body. She knelt during the prayers; and though she had no Prayer-book, she behaved with the greatest attention through the whole service. The subject of the gospel was the history of the pharisee and publican; and Mr. Morton could not help thinking there was something in this poor girl's behaviour like that of the humble publican.

The next Sunday Mr. Morton again saw her coming slowly along the road from Brokenford; and again he noticed her earnest, anxious look of attention. He resolved not to delay making inquiry

about her.

"We must ask Mrs. Payne who she is," said he to his wife as they went home; and they quickened their steps to overtake an active tidy little woman, who was walking before them, with her Bible and Prayer-book wrapped in a clean white handkerchief.

Mrs. Payne was a person likely to be of great importance in this part of the parish, which was to belong to Mr. Morton's church. She had lived in service in a clergyman's family, and married from the house. But having lost her husband, and having saved a little money, she had lately been living chiefly with her sister, a farmer's wife, near Thornlea.

When Mr. Morton thought of a school for his new parish, Mrs. Payne seemed to him a very fit

person to manage it; for she had learning enough for the purpose, and an orderly way of doing every thing. But, chiefly, she was a really religious, good woman, and had an even, cheerful temper. Her acquaintance with the characters and habits of the people whose children she was to instruct was a great advantage. Mr. Morton built a nice schoolroom near the church, and Mrs. Payne lived in a small cottage close by. It was a great help to Mr. and Mrs. Morton, when they came as strangers to the place, to have a trustworthy person at hand to answer their inquiries about their parishioners. Not that Mr. Morton would have trusted another person's judgment entirely, although he had much confidence in her sincerity and charity. He had known much of poor people all his life; and this helped him to decide how far Mrs. Payne might be mistaken or not. He could depend on her for saying all the good she could of her neighbours, and at the same time for not keeping back any misconduct which it was right he should know. Such things, however, she never repeated to any one, but to her minister when asked; knowing he would make a good use of what she told him, and not talk of it to others unnecessarily.

Mrs. Payne was willing enough to answer about the poor lame girl.

"Yes, sir," she said with a sigh, as Mr. Morton walked on beside her; "it is poor Olive Lester, from Brokenford."

"The only Brokenford person at church, I am afraid, Mrs. Payne?"

"If their children come to church and school, I hope in time some of the parents will too. They are a wild set; but it will be different now they have somebody close at hand to look after them. I think with some it is shyness keeps them back."

"This poor girl looked shy and timid. Are her parents living?"

"No, sir, they were laid long ago in the church

yard at Durningham. She has always lived with her grandfather, old Isaac Lester. He is very infirm now. I seldom see him out, except on warm sunny days; and then I have seen poor Olive out with him on a sunny bank by the cottage. The old man likes to bask there. It is that pretty spot that you admired so much, ma'am," turning to Mrs. Morton. "You sat down there under the hollies, and noticed the little spring and the stream. The poor old man never goes farther now; he could not get to the church now, if he wished."

"And so he lives alone with his grand-daughter?" "Oh, no; his son, who is married, and has a family, lives there too; and Olive has a brother. I can hardly tell you, sir, how many they are in family; to say the truth, they are an uncomfortable, loose set. Sometimes the house is full, and sometimes nearly empty. The lads are here and there, after no good, and never seem to have regular work. The grandfather, I am told, was wild in his ways once, but he is past all that. I suppose he cannot stop their goings on now, though he may wish it.”

"Ah, he did not set them a good example, and therefore they do not respect him now. But about Olive?"

"I know no harm of poor Olive-none at all. I do hope this church will be a blessing to her."

It would take too much time to repeat all this conversation; and I must relate in my own words what is necessary of Olive Lester's history.

She certainly was not like the rest of the people at Brokenford; her effort to come to church shewed this. Indeed, she was anxious to do right, and she had kept from any great sin, as far as she knew what was sin or not. She was very humble; and when people looked down on her, and judged her too hastily, knowing to what a bad set she belonged, she submitted to it patiently. In her childhood she had attended the parish-school three years. Her grandfather wished her to have learning; and at

that time she was not wanted at home, nor was the long distance a hinderance. There she received her first ideas of religion, of which she heard nothing at home. She remembered well what she had learned, and she tried also to practise what she had been taught. But the habits of her own family did not allow her to attend school regularly; and as she was not quick with her answers, and was not always seen in her place, she was little noticed or encouraged. Besides, she was much too shy to make friends, or ask for kindness. She never would go and beg for charity, as her neighbours often did, and therefore was less seen than they were.

At eleven years old, as she was climbing over some timber where she and her little companions were playing, she fell and broke her leg. It was some time before her friends thought of taking her to a doctor, and then it was too late to have the leg set properly. She suffered much, and became lame for life.

From this time poor Olive was unable to attend church at Durningham. But she remembered some prayers, and repeated them every day. And she read the New Testament, which had been given her at school, and learned many chapters.

Her grandfather, as he grew old, earned too little to support her. Her aunt was a hard, ill-tempered woman, and frightened the poor girl by harsh words, and too often by bad language. Though she made her useful in many ways, yet she grudged her share of the family provision. Olive knew that some of her former schoolfellows had got out to service at thirteen and fourteen. She knew she could be useful in various ways in other houses as she was at home. So when she was fourteen, she thought of this as the best way of earning her bread. Her friends told her she might do as she pleased; but her aunt said she had no time to go about hunting for places for her.

Nothing but the wish to leave a home where she suffered, and saw and heard so much to make her

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