Friends and Neighbors

hat their interest And the People's good, ARE ONE.

MY WASHERWOMAN.

SOME people have a singular reluctance to part with money. If waited on for a bill, they say, almost involuntarily, "Call to-morrow," even though their pockets are far from being empty.

I once fell into this bad habit myself; but a little incident, which I will relate, cured me. Not many years after I had attained my majority, a poor widow, named Blake, did my washing and ironing. She was the mother of two or three little children, whose sole dependence for food and raiment was on the labour of her hands.

Punctually, every Thursday morning, Mrs. Blake appeared with my clothes, "white as the driven snow;" but not always, as punctually, did I pay the pittance she had earned by hard labour.

"Mrs. Blake is down stairs," said a servant, tapping at my room-door one morning, while I was in the act of dressing myself.

"Oh, very well," I replied. "Tell her to leave my clothes. I will get them when I c