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 buffeted the worthles crew out of his domains by evere hail-torms, and became o fretful that no wanderer ventured upon the mountain without apprehenion; carce any ecaped without a courging, and the name Number-Nip had no more been heard in the mountain ince the memory of man.

One day, as the pirit lay baking by the hedge of his garden, he epied, walking along in great unconcern, a female figure, whoe ingularity and accompaniments arreted his whole attention. She had a child at the breat, another rode on her back, a third he led by the hand, and a fourth carried an empty baket with a rake, for he was come for a baket of leaves for her cattle at home. ‘Truly a mother,’ thinks Number-Nip, ‘mut be a kind affectionate creature; ee how he drags herelf along with her load of four children, and over and above attends to her houhold buines, and all without a murmur: this is in faith buy- ‘ing