THE

SHEPHERD

OF

SALISBURY PLAIN.

PART II.

I AM willing to hope that my readers will not be sorry to hear some farther particulars of their old acquaintance the shepherd of Salisbury Plain. They will call to mind that at the end of the first part, he was returning home full of gratitude for the favours he had received from Mr. Johnson, whom we left pursuing his journey, after having promised to make a visit to the shepherd's cottage.

Mr. Johnson after having passed some time with his friends, sat out on his return to Salisbury, and on the Saturday evening reached a very small inn, a mile or two dis

tant from the shepherd's village; for he never travelled on a Sunday, without such a reason as he might be able to produce at the day of judgment. He went the next morning to the church nearest the house where he had passed the night; and after taking such refreshments as he could get at the house, he walked on to find the shepherd's cottage. His reason for visiting him on a Sunday was chiefly, because he supposed it to be the only day which the shepherd's employment allowed him to pass at home with his family, and as Mr. Johnson had been struck with his talk, he thought it would be neither unpleasant or unprofitable to observe how a man who carried such an appearance of piety spent his Sunday; for though he was so low in the world, this gentleman was not above entering very closely into his character, of which he thought he should be able to form a better judgment, by seeing whether his practice at home, kept pace with his professions abroad. For it is not so much by observing how people talk, as how they live, that we ought to judge of their characters.

After a pleasant walk Mr. Johnson got within sight of the cottage, to which he was directed by the clump of hawthorns and the broken chimney. He wished to take the family by surprise; and walking gently up to the house he stood awhile to listen. The door being half open, he saw the shepherd (who looked so respectable in his Sunday coat that he should hardly have known him) his wife, and their numerous young family, drawing round their little table, which was covered with a clean though very coarse cloth. There stood on it a large dish of potatoes, a brown pitcher, and a piece of coarse bread. The wife and children stood in silent attention, while the shepherd with his up-lifted hands and eyes, devoutly begged the blessing of heaven on their homely fare. Mr. Johnson could not help sighing to reflect, that he had sometimes seen better dinners eaten with less appearance of thankfulness.

The shepherd and his wife then sat down with great seeming cheerfulness, but the children stood; and while the mother was

helping them, little fresh coloured Molly who had picked the wool from the bushes with so much delight, cried out, "Father, I wish I was big enough to say grace; I am sure I should say it very heartily to-day, for I was thinking what must poor people do who have no salt to their potatoes, and do but look, our dish is quite full:"-" This is the true way of thinking, Molly," said the father, "in whatever concerns bodily wants, and bodily comforts, it is our duty to compare our own lot with the lot of those who are worse off, and this will keep us thankful. On the other hand, whenever we are tempted to set up our own wisdom or goodness, we must compare ourselves with those who are wiser and better, and that will keep us humble." Molly was now so hungry, and found the potatoes so good, that she had no time to make any more remarks; but was devouring her dinner very heartily; when the barking of the great dog drew her attention from her trencher to the door, and spying the stranger, she cried out, "Look, father, see here, if yonder is not the good

D

gentleman!" Mr. Johnson finding himself discovered, immediately walked in, and was heartily welcomed by the honest shepherd, who told his wife that this was the gentleman to whom they were so much obliged."

The good woman began, as some very neat people are rather too apt to do, with making many apologies that her house was not cleaner, and that things were not in fitter order to receive such a gentleman. Mr. Johnson however on looking round, could discover nothing but the most perfect neatness. The trenchers on which they were eating were almost as white as their linen; and notwithstanding the number and the smallness of the children, there was not the least appearance of dirt or litter... The furniture was very simple and poor, hardly indeed amounting to bare necessaries. It consisted of four brown wooden chairs, which by constant rubbing, were become as bright as a looking-glass; an iron pot and kettle; a poor old grate which scarcely held a handful of coals, and out of which the little fire that had been in it appeared to have