Mr. Wilson was sent for to a gardener's house, two miles distant, to
attend a man who was dying. This was a duty to which all others gave
way, in his mind. He set out directly; but what was his surprise, on
his arrival, to see, on a little bed on the floor, poaching Giles
lying, in all the agonies of death! Jack Weston, a poor young man,
against whom Giles had informed for killing a hare, was kneeling by
him, offering him some broth, and talking to him in the kindest
manner. Mr. Wilson begged to know the meaning of all this; and Jack
Weston spoke as follows:

"At four this morning, as I was going out to mow, passing under the
high wall of this garden, I heard a most dismal moaning. The nearer I
came, the more dismal it grew. At last, who should I see but poor
Giles, groaning and struggling under a quantity of bricks and stones,
but not able to stir. The day before, he had marked a fine large net
on this old wall, and resolved to steal it; for he thought it might do
as well to catch partridges as to preserve cherries: so, sir, standing
on the very top of this wall, and tugging with all his might to loosen
the net from the hooks which fastened it, down came Giles, net, wall,
and all; for the wall was gone to decay. It was very high, indeed, and
poor Giles not only broke his thigh, but has got a terrible blow on
his brain, and is bruised all over like a mummy.

"On seeing me, sir, poor Giles cried out, 'Oh, Jack, I did try to ruin
thee by lodging that information, and now thou wilt be revenged by
letting me lie here and perish.'

"'God forbid, Giles,' cried I; 'thou shalt see what sort of revenge a
Christian takes.' So, sir, I sent off the gardener's boy to fetch a
surgeon, while I scampered home, and brought, on my back, this bit of