"THERE'S no use in talking more over the matter, mother; when I says a thing—I does it!" cried John Carey, striking his fist upon the table, to give emphasis to his words. "I've told Dick Brace that as soon as I gets the thirty pounds of my uncle's legacy, I'll club it with his, and we'll start in business together, and make a good thing, I don't doubt, out of the 'Jolly Ploughboys,' now the brickmaking is begun so near to the place." "I don't like your keeping a public, John; and I don't like your joining in anything with Dick Brace," observed Widow Carey, with an anxious shake of the head. "He's a jolly good fellow," said John. "He's not a God-fearing man," rejoined the widow. "I doubt there will be a blessing upon anything in which you are mixed up with him." "I shouldn't care to have him for a brother, but he's just the fellow for a partner in business," cried John; "sharp as a fox, and merry as a cricket. You'll see we'll get on like a house on fire, mother, and I'll be able to pay your coal club for you every week, and maybe your rent too, if you don't care to have the little back-room at the 'Jolly Ploughboys.'" And John bent his tall form, and looked with a merry, kindly smile into his parent's face as he added, "There's a bribe for ye, mother!" Mrs. Carey returned the smile; indeed it would have been hard not to have done so, so pleasant, at least to a parent's eyes, looked that fine strong young peasant, in the prime of life, with the fresh hue of health on his cheek. There was something in the appearance of John, with his tawny hair and whiskers, broad and somewhat flat face, and bold decided manner, that made his companions sometimes call him in sport "the young lion:" but he was a very good-humoured lion, for though self-willed and sometimes hasty, there was nothing savage in the nature of the widow's only son. Mrs. Carey smiled indeed, but she was thoroughly in earnest as she replied, "Were the sacks full of gold sovereigns instead of coals, they wouldn't be bribe enough for me; and as for taking your back parlour—let alone that I'd not choose to end my life in a public—maybe you'll want a younger companion one of these days to keep house for ye, my boy." John threw back his head and laughed. "I've been a-thinking of that," said he. "If matters go right, and the money come in, there's Dinah Dealtry at the farm—she'd make a trim little wife." Again the widow shook her head. "I hope you'll never put the ring on her finger, John. She's not a girl to make a good man happy, nor to bring up a family in the right way. There wouldn't be a blessing, I fear, on such a marriage as that." "Mother, you're always thinking about a blessing," cried John, with a little impatience. "Because I've always found God's blessing to be the one thing needful, my son, and I never feel myself safe in doing anything upon which I cannot ask it. We may plough and sow a field, but not a blade will grow, unless God's blessing come in the rain and the sunshine. And so it is with everything in life: we spend our money for that which is not bread, and our labour for that which satisfieth not, unless God's blessing crown all."