poor little chirrub herself."

"Don't name it, mum," replied the windmiller's wife. "I always say
if children be to have things, they'll have 'em; and if not, why
they won't." A theory which seems to sum up the views of the
majority of people in Mrs. Lake's class of life upon the spread of
disease.

"I'm sure I don't know what's coming to my poor head," the nurse
continued: "I've not so much as told you who I am, ma'am. I'm
nurse at the Grange, ma'am, with Mr. Ammaby and Lady Louisa.
They've been in town, and her ladyship's had the very best advice,
and now we've come to the country for three months, but the dear
child don't seem a bit the better. And we've been trying every
thing, I'm sure. For any thing I heard of I've tried, as well as
what the doctor ordered, and rubbing it with some stuff Lady
Louisa's mamma insisted upon, too,--even to a frog put into the dear
child's mouth, and drawed back by its legs, that's supposed to be a
certain cure, but only frightened it into a fit I thought it never
would have come out of, as well as fetching her ladyship all the way
from her boudoir to know what was the matter--which I no more dared
tell her than fly."

"Dear, dear!" said the miller's wife; "have you tried goose-grease,
mum? 'Tis an excellent thing."

"Goose-grease, ma'am, and an excellent ointment from the bone-
setter's at the toll-bar, which the butler paid for out of his own
pocket, knowing it to have done a world of good to his sister that
had a bad leg, besides being a certain cure for coughs, and cancer,