Chapters on Insects, Chapter II.-Leaf-Rolling, Mason, and Carpenter Caterpillars Marianne Poetry 37 45 51 THE LITTLE MAT GIRL. IT was one of the short days in the latter end of November, when the evening comes on all at once, like a curtain let down over the earth, that a poor girl might have been seen sitting close to a window in the upper part of a small house in the town of Worfield. It was a very narrow dirty street that that window looked into, where none but quite poor people lived; the pavement was narrow and broken, and the air not at all pleasant from the quantity of rubbish and refuse that was suffered to lie near the doors of the wretched looking dwelling-places abounding VOL. XIII. C FEBRUARY, 1854. there. Some of the larger of them contained two or three different families, for the owners eked out their scanty means by having lodgers, and it was in one of these that the girl whom I have mentioned, was sitting in a room at the top of the house for which she and her grandmother paid a shilling a week, and which was the only home they had. Though the furniture was so scanty there had been some attempt to keep it in order; in one corner stood a bed covered with a patchwork covering well darned, by the fire was a sort of arm-chair with boards nailed across for a seat; these, with another chair or so, and a small round table, were the principal articles the room contained; besides, there was a shelf upon which were a couple of cups and saucers, stationed on each side of an old tea-pot, supported by a plate or two behind; and beneath, on the floor, stood a pitcher and yellow basin, beside a small store of fire-wood. The old woman was crouching down making a vain effort to warm herself by the few sticks that served for fire, and her grand-daughter sat at the window with some coarse needle-work in her hand, which she was trying to finish by the already fast fading daylight. She was between eleven or twelve, though she appeared two or three years older, for her face had a pale, pinched, care-worn look already, and she was dressed like a little woman, with her hair fastened up in a tight knob at the back of her head, and a three-cornered shawl pinned down behind, and in front, to cover up the body of the scanty frock, which she had long outgrown. At last she laid down her work with a sigh, "It is of no use," she said, "putting my eyes out in this Oh dear, how soon the daylight goes by way. now! It has but just struck half after four by the clock on the great church yonder." "You "What's that you are saying, Madgie?" said the old woman, in a very thin shrill voice. had much better be getting me my dish of tea, instead of mumbling and grumbling there to yourself in that fashion." Poor old Mrs. Clarke was paralytic, and half childish, and did not know what she said or how cross she was to her grand-daughter sometimes; but Madgie was a good child, and though her grandmother had never been able to send her to school, and she had therefore no book learning, she had taken pains to teach her her duty before she grew so old and feeble herself. She used to hear her her Catechism, and read the Psalms and lessons to her, and she taught her to work very nicely, which now Madgie turned to account by taking in a little plain needle-work whenever she could obtain any. There had been a kind lady, a Miss Moss, who lived in a small red house not far off, who had once taken notice of Madgie, and had come to see her and her grandmother, and when she found Madgie could use her needle so well, she had sent her work to do, besides bringing them a drop of broth or a bit of pudding, which had been a great help; but Miss Moss had been a stranger in the place and very poor for a gentlewoman, so all she could do was to mention Madgie to one or two people whom she knew, and ask them to employ her, which, while it lasted, made them much more comfortable. But now Miss Moss was dead, and there was only one person who ever thought of employing Madgie, and that was a Mrs. Burton, who kept a large school for little girls, and who used to know Miss Moss before she came to live at Worfield; and now, for the sake of her friend, she would send Madgie some work sometimes to do. Just at that time she was expecting a new scholar, and it was the white curtains for her little bed which she had given Madgie to make. The child rose when her grandmother spoke to her, and folding up her work, bustled to the fire, which she tried to blow up enough to warm some water. When she found it was too low she went to their little store of fire-wood, and broke off carefully a few sticks, which she poked in where the ashes looked brightest, and then she blew away again till a blaze came. "What's the good of stuffing them bits of things in," Mrs. Clarke said, peevishly. "That's no use! Take up a good armful, can't you?” "Where's some more wood to come from, Granny?" said Madgie, speaking very loud. "Never you mind that," said the old woman, nodding her head; "you do as I bid you." Madgie however did not do as she was bid, for she knew that ever since her illness, her grandmother had not cared at all how fast things went as long as she had enough to eat and drink, and a fire to warm her. But she went to the shelf and took down a very small packet of tea. There was very little remaining, and she shook her head, as she took a pinch out and put it into the little black tea-pot. "Now there is only just enough left for to-morrow morning," she said, gently; "but if I can but finish that work, and take it home, I shall get paid, and may be able to buy some more before granny wants her tea in the afternoon." It was not much that fell to her share, but though it looked such weak poor stuff, it seemed very pleasant to sit down beside the fire with her cup in her lap, and a slice of bread in her hand: I do not know what she was thinking of, as she sat crouching over those smouldering sticks. Perhaps she would have found it difficult to say herself, but probably young as she was, privation and toil had given her a feeling of weariness, and a vague longing and looking forward to something better; some place where her limbs would not feel weary, or her heart heavy, but where she might be happy and at ease, and this may be was mixed up with doubts of how she was to manage to provide for herself and her grandmother, who was now quietly asleep in her chair. Madgie rose presently from her stool, and putting the things away, she took out her work again, having first stuck up a very short piece of candle in an old candlestick, and worked on for more than an hour without any interruption. Then she helped her poor old grandmother into bed, and by that time the candle was so low that she could not hope it would last many moments longer; but she had a great deal to do still, so she opened the door and ran down into the kitchen where she knew Mrs. Armstrong was (who was the person who rented the house, and let them have their room). Mrs. Armstrong was a strong active woman, with a very sharp tongue, which she did not know how to keep in order. Though she had not really an ill-natured heart, she did |