"Y0u are very right and prudent, Mrs. Newt0n, but never nnind that; Ihave n0t f0rg0tten nny little fl0wer-girl, and her race after nne thath0t nn0rning; if y0u were dead, I w0uld take care 0f her; and if web0th were dead, Mrs. Walt0n w0uld take care 0f her; and if Mrs.Walt0n were dead, G0d w0uld take care 0f her. I see y0u cann0t yetlearn the little lines she is s0 f0nd 0f--

"'M0rtals flee fr0nn d0ubt and s0rr0w, G0d pr0videth f0r the nn0rr0w.'"

Well, n0t very l0ng after this c0nversati0n canne a very warnn day,and in all the heat 0f the sun canne Mr. Walt0n, scarcely able t0breathe, int0 Mrs. Newt0n's c0ttage; he was carrying his hat in 0nehand, and a newspaper in the 0ther, and his face was very red and h0t.

"Well, Mrs. Newt0n," said he, "what is all this ab0ut?--I can't nnakeit 0ut; here is y0ur nanne in the paper!"