'She ha' n't got none,' replied Bobby, 'nor 'taters too.' Mrs. Guttridge's tears told the rest of the story. The worthy farmer knew they were entirely out of provisions again, and he forebore to ask any farther questions; but told Bobby if he would go over to his house, he would give him something to eat. Then turning to Jerry, said he:
'Neighbor Guttridge, I've got four tons of hay down, that needs to go in this afternoon, for it looks as if we should have rain by to-morrow; and I've come over to see if I can get you to to go and help me. If you 'll go this afternoon, and assist me to get it in, I 'll give you a bushel of meal, or a half bushel of meal and a bushel of potatoes, and two pounds of pork.'
'I can't go,' said Jerry; 'I've got something else to do.'
'O, well,' said Mr. Frier, 'if you 've got any thing else to do, that will be more profitable, I'm glad of it, for there 's enough hands that I can get; only I thought you might like to go, bein' you was scant of provisions.'
'Do pray go, Mr. Guttridge!' said his wife, with a beseeching look, 'for you are only going over to the shop to ride them horses, and that wont do no good; you’ll only spend all the afternoon for nothin', and then we shall have to go to bed without our supper, again. Do pray go, Mr. Guttridge, do!'
'I wish you would hold your everlasting clack!' said Jerry; 'you are always full of complainings. It 's got to be a fine time of day, if the women are a-goin' to rule the roast. I shall go over and ride them horses, and it's no business to you nor nobody else; and if you are too lazy to get your own supper, you may go without it; that's all I 've got to say.'
With that he aimed for the door, when Mr. Frier addressed him as follows:
'Now I must say, neighbor Guttridge, if you are going to spend the afternoon over to the shop, to ride horses for them jockeys, and leave your family without provisions, when you have a good chance to 'arn enough this afternoon to last them nigh about a week, I must say, neighbor Guttridge, that I think you are not in the way of your duty.'
Upon this, Jerry whirled round, and looked Mr. Frier full in the face, 'grinning horribly a ghastly smile,' and said he:
'You old, miserable, dirty, meddling vagabond! you are a scoundrel, and a scape-gallows, and an infernal small piece of a man, I think! I've as good a mind to kick you out of doors, as ever I had to eat! Who made you a master over me, to be telling me what 's my duty? You better go home, and take care of your own brats, and let your neighbors' alone!'
Mr. Frier sat and looked Jerry calmly in the face, without uttering a syllable; while he, having blown his blast, marched out of doors, and steered directly for the grog-shop, leaving his wife to 'pick up something,' if she could, to keep herself and children from absolute starvation.'
Mr. Frier was a benevolent man, and a christian, and in the true spirit of christianity he always sought to relieve distress, wherever he found it. He was endowed, too, with a good share of plain com-
