“Had you seen us, Mr. Harley, when we were turned out of South-hill, I am sure you would have wept at the sight.  You remember old Trusty, my shag house-dog; I shall never forget it while I live; the poor creature was blind with age, and could scarce crawl after us to the door; he went however as far as the gooseberry-bush that you may remember stood on the left side of the yard; he was wont to bask in the sun there; when he had reached that spot, he stopped; we went on:  I called to him; he wagged his tail, but did not stir:  I called again; he lay down:  I whistled, and cried Trusty; he gave a short howl, and died!  I could have lain down and died too; but God gave me strength to live for my children.”

The old man now paused a moment to take breath.  He eyed Harley’s face; it was bathed with tears:  the story was grown familiar to himself; he dropped one tear, and no more.

“Though I was poor,” continued he, “I was not altogether without credit.  A gentleman in the neighbourhood, who had a small farm unoccupied at the time, offered to let me have it, on giving security for the rent; which I made shift to procure.  It was a piece of ground which required management to make anything of; but it was nearly within the compass of my son’s labour and my own.  We exerted all our industry to bring it into some heart.  We began to succeed tolerably and lived contented on its produce, when an unlucky accident brought us under the displeasure of a neighbouring justice of the peace, and broke all our family-happiness again.

“My son was a remarkable good shooter; he-had always kept a pointer on our former farm, and thought no harm in doing so now; when one day, having sprung a covey in our own ground, the dog, of his own accord, followed them into the justice’s.  My son laid down his gun, and went after his dog to bring him back:  the game-keeper, who had marked the birds, came up, and seeing the pointer, shot him just as my son approached.  The creature fell; my son ran up to him:  he died with a complaining sort of cry at his master’s feet.  Jack could bear it no longer; but, flying at the game-keeper, wrenched his gun out of his hand, and with the butt end of it, felled him to the ground.

“He had scarce got home, when a constable came with a warrant, and dragged him to prison; there he lay, for the justices would not take bail, till he was tried at the quarter-sessions for the assault and battery.  His fine was hard upon us to pay:  we contrived however to live the worse for it, and make up the loss by our frugality:  but the justice was not content with that punishment, and soon after had an opportunity of punishing us indeed.

“An officer with press-orders came down to our county, and having met with the justices, agreed that they should pitch on a certain number, who could most easily be spared from the county, of whom he would take care to clear it:  my son’s name was in the justices’ list.