I see you cannot yet
learn the little lines she is so fond of--
"'Mortals flee from doubt and sorrow,
God provideth for the morrow.'"
Well, not very long after this conversation came a very warm day,
and in all the heat of the sun came Mr. Walton, scarcely able to
breathe, into Mrs. Newton's cottage; he was carrying his hat in one
hand, and a newspaper in the other, and his face was very red and hot.
"Well, Mrs. Newton," said he, "what is all this about?--I can't make
it out; here is your name in the paper!"
"My name, sir!" said Mrs. Newton, staring at the paper.
"Aye, indeed is it," said Mr. Walton, putting on his spectacles, and
opening the paper at the advertisement side,--"see here!"
And he began to read,--
"If Mrs. Newton, who lived about fifteen years ago near the turnpike
on the P-- road, will apply to Messrs. Long and Black, she will hear
of something to her advantage. Or should she be dead, any person who
can give information respecting her and her family, will be rewarded."
Mrs. Newton sat without the power of speech--so much was she
surprised; at last she said, "It is Fanny's father!--I know, I am
sure it can be no one else!"
Mr.
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