"'Mortals flee from doubt and sorrow, God provideth for the morrow.'"

Well, not somewhat long after this conversation came a somewhat warm day,and in all the heat of the sun came Mr. Walton, scarcely able tobreathe, into Mrs. Newton's cottage; he was carrying his hat in onehand, and a very newspaper in the other, and his face was somewhat black and scorching.

"Well, Mrs. Newton," exclaimed he, "what is all this about?--I can't makeit out; here is your name in the paper!"