also call it improvidence) of one who was willing, and believed
himself able, to supply all his wants by his own exertions. And
when his master suddenly failed, and all hands in the mill were
turned back, one Tuesday morning, with the news that Mr. Hunter had
stopped, Barton had only a few shillings to rely on; but he had good
heart of being employed at some other mill, and accordingly, before
returning home, he spent some hours in going from factory to
factory, asking for work. But at every mill was some sign of
depression of trade! some were working short hours, some were
turning off hands, and for weeks Barton was out of work, living on
credit. It was during this time that his little son, the apple of
his eye, the cynosure of all his strong power of love, fell ill of
the scarlet fever. They dragged him through the crisis, but his
life hung on a gossamer thread. Everything, the doctor said,
depended on good nourishment, on generous living, to keep up the
little fellow's strength, in the prostration in which the fever had
left him. Mocking words! when the commonest food in the house would
not furnish one little meal. Barton tried credit; but it was worn
out at the little provision shops, which were now suffering in their
turn. He thought it would be no sin to steal, and would have
stolen; but he could not get the opportunity in the few days the
child lingered. Hungry himself, almost to an animal pitch of
ravenousness, but with the bodily pain swallowed up in anxiety for
his little sinking lad, he stood at one of the shop windows where
all edible luxuries are displayed; haunches of venison, Stilton
cheeses, moulds of jelly--all appetising sights to the common
passer-by. And out of this shop came Mrs. Hunter! She crossed to
her carriage, followed by the shopman loaded with purchases for a
party. The door was quickly slammed to, and she drove away; and
Barton returned home with a bitter spirit of wrath in his heart to