• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Front Matter
 Frontispiece
 Title Page
 Introduction
 Table of Contents
 The snow-birds
 A pleasant visiter
 Good for evil
 The victory
 The Sunday-school
 A parable expounded
 Progress in reform
 The young tempters
 The melon-patch
 The assault
 Lost in the mountains
 The search
 Camping out
 Found
 The buried seed coming up
 The plants set
 The early ripe early gathered
 The living for the dead
 Advertising






Group Title: power of kindness
Title: The power of kindness
CITATION THUMBNAILS PAGE TURNER PAGE IMAGE ZOOMABLE
Full Citation
STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00003532/00001
 Material Information
Title: The power of kindness a story for the young
Physical Description: 127, 16 p. : ; 18 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Ide, George B ( George Barton ), 1804-1872
Thomas Nelson & Sons
Publisher: T. Nelson and Sons
Place of Publication: London ;
Edinburgh
Manufacturer: T. Nelson and Sons
Publication Date: 1853
 Subjects
Subject: Christian life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Kindness -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Children -- Death -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Publishers' catalogues -- 1853   ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1853
Genre: Publishers' catalogues   ( rbgenr )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
Scotland -- Edinburgh
 Notes
Statement of Responsibility: by the Rev. George B. Ide.
General Note: Publisher's catalogue follows text.
General Note: Added engraved t.p.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00003532
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002231983
oclc - 45964436
notis - ALH2371
 Related Items
Other version: Alternate version (PALMM)
PALMM Version

Table of Contents
    Front Matter
        Page 1
        Page 1a
    Frontispiece
        Page 2
    Title Page
        Page 3
        Page 4
    Introduction
        Page 5
    Table of Contents
        Page 6
    The snow-birds
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
    A pleasant visiter
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
    Good for evil
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
    The victory
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
    The Sunday-school
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
    A parable expounded
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
    Progress in reform
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
    The young tempters
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
    The melon-patch
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
    The assault
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
    Lost in the mountains
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
    The search
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
    Camping out
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
    Found
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
    The buried seed coming up
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
    The plants set
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
    The early ripe early gathered
        Page 111
        Page 112
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
    The living for the dead
        Page 118
        Page 119
        Page 120
        Page 121
        Page 122
        Page 123
        Page 124
        Page 125
        Page 126
        Page 127
    Advertising
        Advertising 1
        Advertising 2
        Advertising 3
        Advertising 4
        Advertising 5
        Advertising 6
        Advertising 7
        Advertising 8
        Advertising 9
        Advertising 10
        Advertising 11
        Advertising 12
        Advertising 13
        Advertising 14
        Advertising 15
        Advertising 16
Full Text





1 mu Ih" ~t ~dbI~ ~~*' t-h~~











PoWEk or Ksivw


31 tunrn


fur tfl r un ing.


THE ASIAUIT.
Y an ka m 19 y h i bt I a *dk lmk t ',IP ly.,
.delima ntuni:1 mtH fl1nafdoto nIi aylT-Pai.


EBS.















POWER OF KINDNESS.




a tant far Iw 'ougg.




BY THE RET. GEORGE B. ID., D.D.











LONDON!
t. NELSON AND SONS. PATERNOSTER ROW,
AND NDINMURGR.
AfJ>B IK 1r 9C1













INTRODUCTORY NOTE.



Tno reader of this little Book may wish to know
whether the incidents it describes had an actual ocenr-
rence. To such an inquiry the writer would reply,
that the entire narrative is founded on fact- Every
event-every personage-i real. All the individuals
introduced into these pages were known to the writer
in his earlier years; and most of the circumstances
took place under his own observation. The only point
in which the strict fidelity of history has been departed
from is, that, in a few instance, persons and events have
been brought into a closer connection as to time and
place than existed in reality. The names of the actor
in the story, ax well as of the-sene in which it is laid,
are of coarse flin ons In all other respects, the
book is literally true. Should it please God to make
it an instrn rent of good to any into whose hands it
may come, the slight labor devote to its preparation
will be more than rewarded.
























CONTENTS


2The Snw-B ...
A Pleasant Vialtor,
Goad frb~ Zf 1
The Vlctoy.,
Time Sain0y-Secobo, -
A PraNblG Exnronied



aThe Meo-Patch, A
The A- aft ,
Loat In the MuntlauB


c amplng Out, .
. Founs, ot -
SThe Plaru t Se% Can p,


The Etary ipe Ehrly Oathind
Lltfivln a tor the Dead, .


.. 11




al
II




++46
.. .. .

17



77



67



Ia
.. .. 107


-.. .. In

















THE POWER OF KINDNESS.





CHAPTER I

mHs Asow-BIRDS.

IN a pretty sequestered village, biown by the name of
Green HolIow, lived little Chrt Morton, the only child
of a pinou widow lady, In easy chiremtancee. Their dwe ll
ing was a small but very pretty cottage. addingg back a
bhort distance from the road-cde, embowered in shrubbery
and shaded by overbanging trees. A lawn of olosey-aven
grsa, shut in by neat white pinag, spread its green Carpot
in front of the house; while in the rear, ~d on either side
a trim. garden was laid aut, led with ees, pinfs violeta
and other swee-ecented fowers. The quiet of this re
abode was disturbed by no noise, wsae the distant huamof
the vil illae mill; theo o io hou of a waggonr, as hi
heavy team trundled by; or the tikling of the cow-bell, as
the faithful lae return ed slowly homeward at evening.
oere, from her infancy, laras had dwels in fappinaa,
Never hr care trouble the breast of the ohild. ll the
day long, ehe was as blithe as a lark, and as brIght a a
daisy. Every afternoon, when her wahool.take were done,
am-4he weather permitted, she busied herself with her
flower-beds; andetiated byi old Peter the gatdene, taught










many a droopn plant to look up with a face almost as
smlhing as her own
The Sabbath brought with it a different employment; but
one in whih she fnnd equal, if not greater delight. On
that holy day, attended by her mother, she went to the
SBnday-sehool and to the house of God, to listen to the
Word of Hli who made this beautiful world, and who, in
the inches of his mery, gave his only begotten Son to
be the Saviour of sinners. The tMuths which she there
learned often csme afresh to her mand when she resumed
her week-day occupations; and, while training some creep-
ing jeaeamine, or watching the nufolding of some blush-
ing rose-bud, she would think of that great Being who
clothes the 11iy and giveB to each flower its bloom and
fragrance.
Thus pleasantly she open the summer between her books
and her garden, with a little ramble now and then in the
neighboring wood, to har the wild-birds sing their hymn
of praise to God. But when the winter set in, her amuse-
nents wer more within doors; for her health wao delicate,
and the watchful mother guarded against any exposure to
the inclemency of the season.
It was for this reason that Clara remained in the cottage
one day, looking from the parlour window on the scene
without. Snow had been falmig all the morning and now
covered the ground with a sort, whit fleece. The appear-
ance of nature at that moment was certainly not very pr-
yoeeasing; nor yet was it altogether dreary. So Clara
thought, as she tood, half wishing the snow would go
tway, notwithstanding she had obserod it with pleasure
when it firs began to come down, like a cloud of feather,
from the fy. Presently her eye &l upon a Bock of birds
that jut theo had flown over the fence; and, lighting on
the a le es twigs of her favourite roas-bush, were pI'idn
their feathere, and chirping merrily.
SCheeep I chep trlled e little wbler, in chorus.
"O mother F' cried Clamr, clapping her hands, and ad-
dreaing Mrs. Morton, who was seated by the fir, egged










in sewing; see what a lot of pretty bird there are in the
garma-en^"-- --------- ---- -- -
"Tes, Clara," said Mrs. Morton, wibhout looking up
" they a b irds that always come ti the winter."
"And will they stay, mother Will they not fly away
when it gets colder "
"I suppose they will. Certainly they will do so when
they can no longer find anything to eat"'
Clara turned agan to the window, and watctie the birds
in silence. Soon they gathered together, and, hitting down
upon the snow, hopped hither and thither, oesting quick
glances on every side ; until, disturbed by some noise, they
rose from the ground, and flew swiftly away. All at once,
anew idea occurred to Clam. After thinking it over some
minutes, she inquired of her mother-
Why do all the other little birds go of as soon a sunm-
meo is overt I should think they migh stay here as well
as these snow-birds I"
"Most of the birds you ee in earner are migratory;
that is, they leave for a warmer climate on the approach of
winter, because they are not sufficiently hrdy to endure
the severe weather, and because they cannot then obtain
their accustomed food. Some, however, especially a species
of swallow, are supposed to dig themselves holes n banks
of earth, where they le very warm and comfortable all
winter; and when the billing in nds blow, and the sharp
frost freezes up the sremes, and the thick snow covers the
ground, they doze away in their enug litlte beds, ad do not
feel i at all. Other, again, like the robin, are tted, by their
structure and habits, to Btai a greater degree of cold;
and are thnu able to su bsis upon berries and eeds that last
late in the year. The robin In particular, it is sald, haa mush
larger pupls than other birds ; and by its sharp tight an
fisd Insocta on which to feed, not only when the ground i
frozen, but even ti the darlk"
How do the birds that go away know when it is time to
go,-snd when to coane bak again And who tells the others
4.tayr' `











"God, my dear,wo c TeliZa, tb6lt eah what to do,
and when to do it."
"Does God talk to the birds, mother 1"
"Yes, my child. Do you not remember what the Bible
teaches about God's care of the birds, and how he superin-
tends and guides all their motions t"
a Indeed I do, mother. Christ said. in his rmnon on the
mount, Behold f thee fwl of the r they sow not, nei-
ther do they remp, nor gather into barns; yet your evenly
Father feedeth them. At another time, he said to his dis-
ciples, Ar not two sparrows sold for a farthing I and one
of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father.'
And then the there iat beautiful passage in Jeremiah, Yea,
the stork in the heaven knoweth her appointed times; and
the turtle, and the crane, a~ the swallow, observe the time
of their coming/ But how do they l)now this v Does God
tell them And can they understand him, mother I'
SYes, Clara. The same good Being that made the tower-
ing oak mad e also the ird that sip and sing so sweetly
among its branches. He ss adapted their natures to the
various connsnditions and circumstances of their existene;
and, by means of certain instincts which he has implanted
within them he teaches them to act in accordance with
their respective oaracters and wants. These instincts are
hsla voice; and he has so constituted them, that they know
and comprehend his meaning at once"
"But, mother, do they not sometimes disobey him C"
"No, never. The birds are not like many wicked chll-
dren,who refuse to do what God tells them. Man, the most
favored creature in this world, is the only one who ever
disregards the authority of his Maker. Everything else
yields a ready esamioeion to him. The winds hearken to
his voice, and obey his word. The eeasoni change, the sun
rises and sets, eloaud come and go, at his bidding. Beasts,
dishes, and fowls, insects and creeping things, al do his
will, and flf their several enda in harmony with the lawa
which he han ordained. But men, though endowed with
reason and conscience, blessed with a direct revelation from











heaven, and destined to live for evr-men, Ullan anw de-
praved, ungratefully rebel against their Creator, and would
continue to rebel, without one olityr exception, were it
not for the atoning and reclaiming grace of Chris provided
in the GospeL Hence God nuSra ds them for their condot,
as contrasted with that of irrational create; and calls
upon all naLre, animate and inanimate, to unite in con-
demning their disobedience. Hear, 0 heavens, and give
ear, 0 heart ; for the Lord hath spoken. I have nourished
and brought up children, and they have rebelled against
me. The ox knoweth his owner, and the mas hs matter's
crib ; but Israel doth not know, my people doth not con-
sider And, at the elose of the pasage which you recited,
about the tork, and the turtle, and the swallow, observ-
ing the times appointed them, he adds But my people.
know not the judgment of the Lord!. Remember, Clra
that, whenever you transgrea God's law by ill temper, fo-
getfulnss of his benefits, or the commission of any an, the
pretty little birds you love o much are witnesses against
you; for they never disobey him."




CHAPTER II.

A PLEASANT vietTtR.

CLAn had liteIoed with deep interest to the explanation
and advice given by her mother in the preceding chapter.
And now, as the volce which she loved so well ceased to
speak, she stood several minutes in the same spot, thinking
very pleasantly how God talked to the bird, and how they
always did what he told them ; how, when winter eme, the
th4ash, and blue-bird, with other tribes of their munsial
brethren and sisters went o, at His command, on a sing
ing euioMnsi to the sunny south ; while the robin, obedient
to the ame Divine Teacher, angered around the fiells and











houses which they had frequented in Bummer. As there
thoughts were passing through her mind, she happened to
glanes her eye again to the window, whenwith a acream of
delight, she exclaimed-
'Just look t there If there is not a robin now on the
window. See, mother I"
Mrn. Morton looked up from her work, and flaw that a
robin was indeed standing on the wildow-sill, and peeking
at the glass as if knocking for admittance. Clara fairly
danced with joy at the eight.
I Mother," she cried, may I not let him in he's so cold,
I know."
I think he will ty away before you can open the case-
ment. Yu may take some cake and throw it out upon the
ground. He will pick up the crumbs, if you do not scare
him."
Clar ran to the closet and taking a piece of cake, has-
tened back to the window. An she approached, however,
the robin Ieagp off his perch, and settled down upon the
snow. Clare lifted the sah gently, and breklong the cake,
scattered it a hi feet. After a few moments spent seem-
ingly in doubt whether there was not some hidden guile in
the boneuty y so liberal proffered, -th robin concluded to
accept it, and drawing nearer, and uttering his wings, as
if to say, Who's afradc" betook himself eagerly to his
repast. While Master Redbresst nas thus comfortably
engaged, a stone came skipping over the fence, and grazing
his feather, forced him to a hasty retreat. Clara raised her
head to ascertain whence the missile id been thrown, and
looking into the road, permeied a rough, ragged boy, named
Frank Haynes, with another stone in hi hand, about to e-
peat his malicious act. As soon as the boy ew that he was
detected, he lowered his uplifted arm, and began to noeak
back towards a lean-looking donkey frovi which he hat
just dismo'nteM
Saughty rank t" cried Clara ndignantly. What do
yo meant Why do you throw stones at my bird"'
It's as much mine as yours,/ replied Frak, lreparing











to heave another pebble at the inoffensive robin, which had
lighted on the fence, and was spreading it wings in alarm.
"Let it alone, yon wicked boy, or I will all mother,"
shriekod Clara in eonsernation, lest the bird should bo hit.
fMs. Morton aow came to the window, man bade the boy
desist. He obeyed reluctantly, and picking up a stick, be-
laboured the poor donkey's eide, as if the act Wfforded him
a relief for hin diappolntmnton. On seeing thiB Mro. Mor-
to, who was about rtirig from the window, called to him
to stop.
Frank," she said, what has the animal don that you
beat him so Have you no more pity for poor brute than
to stnke him at every step't
"-'ma goln to the millV' shouted the boy, and eddy
won't budge unless he's licked.
O yes, he will, if you treat him kindly."
"Beg pardon, ma'a,. bht I know better. Jist you try
him once," surlily replied the boy. Gt p, Neddy, I ay,"
he continued, fetching the donkey another tremendous
whck, which caused the poor beaat to Cringe with pain.
Mrs. Morton httepted to expostulate further with the
boy; but he turned a deaf ear to her entraties, sad,
whipping the donkey at every etep, passed out of sight; not,
however, without stoping to throw a parting stone at she
robin. At this last attaEck the f-ghtotned bird Aew precipi-
tately into an adjoining orchard. Poor Clara could not re-
frain from weeping To be deprived of 'uch a pet, and that
too at the very moment when it was about to receive food
from her hand, seemed to her crml in the extreme. She
eat down by her mother, and bitterly apbraied the cause
of her .grie.
"Mother, what a good-for-nothing fellow that Fran
Haynes i I Won't you send Pl rM out to give him n good
whipping, the eXnt time he darea to throw stoneef
"No, my dear. Why should It" replied her mother.
To puniah him in order to gratify a feeling of revenge,
would be contrary to the law of kindness and mircy which
our Saviour has enjoined. He commands we to love our










enemies; to bless them that rurse us; to do good to them
that hate us, and to pray for them that despitefully use um ;
that we may be the children of our Father whblh i in he.-
ven; f6r He m th Hisa enn to rise on the evil and on the
good,a~ndmendemanonthejuntandonthernjust. The bet
way to deal with offenders lke Frank, is to exercise towards
them a spirit of mildness and forbearance. Severity would
only make him worse, You muot reoolleo that he has had
no one to toaoh him what is right. Bis mother is ver
poor, and though doubtless well-meaning, is little qualified
to bring up her on in a proper way. Bhe allows him to do
just what he pleaa~s until he makes her angry, and then
she treats him with great harealese. De h a been beaten
and scolded all his life, and has, in consequence, become
very rude and unfeeling. Let ua adopt a new method with
bhi. You feet aggrieved because he has dnven away your
bird, and d dived you of an inocent pleasure. Very well.
I will show you a noble revenge. oum hall punish hin by
mabsing him ashamed of his conduct, and endeavoring to
effect his reformation. We will watch for an opportunity
to do him a kindness; and then, if hi mina is at all soft-
enod by its, you shall seine the favorable moment to per-
anade him to attend the Snnday-school, and thus bring
him under the inflSenc of that religious instruction which
he so greatly needed. It may be that God's blessing will
prosper the effrt, and that you will yet have the happiness
of seeing Frank a good and pios boy. Will you try, my
deuarf
"Yee, mother; but I can't forgive him for drivitn off the
poor robin so cruelly."
"Ah, but you must. Do you not remember what our
Lord said I If ye forgive men their trespases, your ha-
veanly Feer will also forgive you; but if ye forgive not
men their trespasss, neither will your Father forgive your
trespmsses God has had more to bear from us than we
an ever have from our fellow-creatureao and if we are not
willing to forgive them, how en we hope that He will for-
give nMt Our Saviour commas s to forgive those who










injure us; and be has added a bonbcing emphasis to thip
command by His own example; for even when banging on
the cross, He forgave his murderer, and prayed his father
to forgive them. Besides, so long as we refuse to forgive
any one, we mast continue to retard him wih ill-will and
hatred; and we cannot do good to a person toward whom
we feel unkindly. Yon must, therefore, forgive ranok as
the very Arst step in your endeavour to make him a better
boy."
YWell, mother, I forgive him with all my heart. But O,
how sorry I ax the pretty robin is gone!" And at this
thought her grief broke out afresh.
SNever fear, Clara," said Mrs. Moron boothingly. "Your
bird is not so easly frightened. He will be sure to come
back after theoe crumb, if he is not there already."
SYes, mother, he la I" shouted Clara, who had gone to the
window to see. There he comes; now he's on the fence;
now down he hops; and, I do declare, he is eating the cake
again. O how glad I am"
And Clara ran to gt her bonnet and shawl, and hurrying
out into the garden, watched Master Robin very patiently ;
until, having gobbled down every morsel of the cake, he
looked up quey i erl face, and giving a loud chirp
that said as plainly s a robin could say it, "Thank ye,"
walked off quite contented and happy.
This was t~h beginning of a very pleasing intimacy
between Clara and the robin. aveoy day he would come
into the garden for his meal; and Clara took great delight
in feeding him, and watching hie motions while he at. If
at any time sbe did not happen to see him when he paid his
visits, he would fly up to the window, and rp against the
pane with his bill, us if to let her know he thought dinner
ouight to be ready. lWhen mid-winter arrived, and deep
snow lay on the earth, he disappeared for a while, thinking
it bent, probably, either to hide himself from the biting
cold in som e oo y repeat, or to spend a few weeks among
his eoosins in the outlh. Bnt with the firet bluslh of spring
he came back aai, attended by a lovelymate whom he










had piiedl up in his travels. They buht their nest in an
apple tree, that stood at a short dance from the hose ;
and Clara often went out to see them while they were em-
ployed in constructing it. Bho got Peter to make her a
little ladder, and set it against the tree, so that she could
climb up, and inspectan work. It afforded her much
amusement as well as wonder, to observe what nice earpon-
ters the robins were; with what kill they managed their
materials; how dexterously they adjusted them to their
places, fastening them together with mortr ; covering the
inside wit tOh smooth coat of later; and giving to the
whole dwelling the most perfect symmetry and proportion.
She thought it the finest bird-housp that ever wa made.
When the nest was completed, on going to viait it one day,
she foand two little eggs lying in its bottom. Her rapture
was unbounded. They were so beautifully enamelled, and
were sprinkled all over with snoh soft and delicate IIes,
that it seemed to her no nea-shell could match their loveli-
ness. She did notdare to take them up, or even tonlh them,
lest they might break; hut for a long time she stood looking
at their tiny forms and variegated colour, in a kind of
ecstacy. In a few weeks a couple of young birds were
hatched from the eggs; and then Clars delight was a the
highest. Every day she would bring them crumbs of cake
and other tit-b; and hw happy it d hw ppy i mde h to ee hem
open their month, and greedily devour the food which she
gave them. How atonished she was, too, to find that suot
little things had such big mouths, and could open them so
widely During all these visit, she never disturbed the old
birds, or interfered with any of their domestic atrro gement
They had become so acc ntomed to her preenmce and seemed
to have such confidence in her good intention, that they
were never uneasy at her approach, or showed the least fear
that she would injure or carry off their young.













CHAPTER III.
GOOD OU EVrIL.
PFni the time when Framk Hyne committed the Ecrel
act related in the last chapter, several month elapsed before
Claim saw him agabn, or had any opportunity of prosecmting
her benevolent intention inx reference to hsl fimpromoent.
The winter was very severe, and Mrs. Morton and her
daughter, being both in feeble health, were compelled to
remain tmetlyat home; while Frank found cope for his
mischievous propen sitie in other directions. But when the
deep snow had melted away, End the erttl had ag ai put
on its robe of green, od soft breeze heralded the coming
simmer, Clar began to meditate earnestly on her plan of
trying to indnoe frank to become a pupl in the Banday
aohool, and to wish that the favomrable anoment for under-
taking it, of which her mother bad spoken, might occur.
She knew well, that unles she could in some ay gain en
indfence over him, he would repel all her effort. She
knew~ that several teachers had attempted in vain to preiail
on him to join the school. She new, too, that he never
entered thle ho ee of God, hut pent the Sabbath in firhng,
boatineg or roaming through the woods and field,. HEr
pitying heart was filed with sorrow as hbo thought how
wicked he weE, and how amch more wloled he weald
become, if he coni hei present ooure; and she scored
to do her utmost to reclaim him, whenever oiroumtaoe
should arise that gave the least prone of nccea. The
lopg desired occasion came at length.
On a bright morning in May, while Clara was reading to
hec.mother one of the little books from the Sunday-sohool
library, old Peter thrmut hia hed in at the parlour door,
loolteg asift h had something very important to oomnnai-
oate,
SWhat to the matter, Peter 1" said Mre. Morton quietly.













Peter was an Irishman, and spoke with an sccent strongly
redolent of the Green lale.
SBeg pardon ma'am,- he answered, bowing and scraping
with his foot; but here's a peck o trouble. That rascally
Frank Haynes got into the barn last uight to steal eggs.
An' more an' that, he bled through e mow, an' ilt
the pig hatiely. An' more en' that, be spraint his ankle,
so be couldn't move till somebody helped him off. Really,
ma'~m he-ought to go to ail, the the that he is. Things
can't go on so, or we shoa't be atae n the house o& nightalts
all, at all, ma'am."
SWell, Peter, I will attend to it; you may withdraw."
When the gardener bad retired, Mrs. Morton laid down her
sewing, and turning to Clamr, said-
"Now, my daughter, is tho time to put in practice our
scheme for reforming 1ise malicious boy. We will return
him good for eviL We will relieve the very suffering he
has brought on bhiself in his attempt to injure us, and shbor-
him, by nur forlbera.nce and kinduess, that we do not hlte
or despise him for his misdeed, but pity his folly, and seek
only to promote his welfare. Such treatment, if he is not
utterly hardened, mnat awaken compunction, and may lead
to better things. Come, we will pay the ueruly lad a
visit-"
Clara was delighted. A walk in the sweet sunshine
across the green meadows, and down shady lane, where
wild powers w, a sparkling brooks laughed and babbled
on their merry way, would be very pleasant of itself ; but
to go on so h a kind pur-poeo-to en4ea*4lr, by words and
deeds of love, to draw Frank from his vicious habW,
dispose him to liBten to the teachings of God's holy book
that would be happineae indeed. Full of thai benevolent
design, she ran to her little chamber to prepare herself for
the excursion. In the meantime, Mr. MKorton took a b t
and lled it with substantial provision, together with a few
-delicaes, and a bottle containing a healing lotion for
Frank's foot. Clara being now ready, and a servant havTng
beet called to erny the beket, they aoonset out, and











a foot-path that led by a shorter course through the elds,
proceeded on their errand of mercy.
The mother of Frank was a poor widow who dwelt in a
rude habitation about half a mile from M-s. Morton's rest-
donce. She routed a aall piece of land, and with the help
of its scanty produce, and by taking in washing, sarove to
keep want from her door. frank -was her only child, and
being a -wel-grown lad in his fifteenth year, might have
been of much asietance to her in gaining a livelihood Bnut
in tead of this, he did little besides giving her trouble by
)is disobedience, idleness, and wokedness- She had brought
him up very badly. Though frugal and hard-working, hbe
lacked the essential requiites for exerting a right Infltence
over him. She was unedunated and ignorant. She was also
very unequal in her conduct towards him; at one time
treating him with foolish indJlgenoe, humoring his caprices,
-and even laughing at his amishievoan pranks, and, at
another, chiding nd ng d eting him with receive severity.
Jti, 4or se than all, she was an utter stranger to-relgin.
fUnder all the pressure of her misfortunes, and in the
sorrown of her lonely and unprotected state, she had never
looked to Hin who is a Father of the fatherless, and a
Jutlge ofthe widow,in his holy habitation," Never had ah
sought counsel from the Bible, or support and comfort in
prayer. She lived in habitual neglect of all the appointed
means of Chriatian inibction. She waso too poor, ahe
thought, to go to church. It might be well enough for
those in easy oirenmstance, or who had fine drese to sQ
off; but it was no place for her who had to toil night and
y, and could not afford the expense of a decent appear-
soes. Thna she asht herself out from the light and joy of
the gopel.
The pernicious effots of shi diregard of spiritual things
wre not confined to herself but were still more visible in
the character of her son. Naturally of a wild and introcb-
able diposition, and growing up without the restraints of
wholesome discipline and example, he soon leaned to set
her authority at defiance. She was not insensible to hia











dellqueuncews, and often esghed and grieved over the
but she wanted the moral force effbotually to control him.
Hia froward and lawless temper occaioned her constant
anxiety; and many were the complaints, and even heara
words, which she was compelled to hear from the neigh-
bonring frmners o onof ho depredations upon their
property. Latterly, through the ceaseless grinding of
poverty, and the perpetual irritatio caused by her eon's
behaviour, her spirits had been much depressed; and she
was beginning'to lose the energy with which she had oneC
bore up against her hard lot. he relaxed her efforts,
and, in a ldnd of sullen despair, allowed matters to take
their conrae. Her dwelling looked lse tidy; the little
field was les carefully tilled; and everything wore the
aspect of neglect and disrepair.
Buch was the appearan of e wapf th vdows premises, as Mr
Morton and Clra approached. Tho house stood at tho end
of a lane that wound away from the ain road. Itas soaa-
Lion was beautiful, commanding a distant view of the river,
and surrounded by rich valleys and green hillsides, with
blue mountain looming in the background. ut its own
dilapidated condition made it seem an unaeghtly blot in a
landscape where all else wa so fair. The windows were
loose and shattered, innny of the panee broken, and their
places auppTed by old bats and rage. Haps of rbbish lay
scattered on every side. The fences were down, and the
small patch of grosed which they were hmean to inolose,
needed cultivation madly. A few fowls, and a haltarved
pi, were running at large i the yard and in the garden.
Even Neddyhey, the donkey ambled about without a ] ,
or stood before the door ,'baski in the an, and whisking
the flies from hbi lnk side.
As the visitors entered this desolate abode, the widow
met them with a respectful greetig, and presenting chlir,
begged them to be seated. Pran, who had so lamed -l m
self by his f1 as to be unablee to stand, wa lyig on a low
bed, and amuning his idle moments by pinching the tall of
a cat, which mewed piteously, and n vain atrnugget











escape from his grasp. When he saw who had coe, he
changed colour, and touring his face t the wall, pretended
to sleep. Mrs. Morton smiled as she noticed this move-
ment; but taking a sea actd and spoke as if she had not
observed his confusion.
"Mrs. H~aynes, she said, addresing tho widow in a
pleasant tone, "I have heard that you wore dong father
poorly at present; and I thought L would call and see if I
could assist you ih any way. frank is etc, too, is he
not "
S0, ma'aw you are very kind to visit a poor person like
em, and 'm nmuch obliged to yon for it, replied tie widow.
SI aint getting on so well as I might i I wasn't sick half
the time, and hardly able to creep about. Frak's hurt his
foot somehow, so I have all the work to do, and it comes
very hard on me. I hope you'll excuse the house, eeing
I've been so down and d.acouragedlike ; I haven't had the
heart to rid it up as it ought W b e."
SFrank should help you as much a possible," said Mrs.
Morton. How did bo hur his foot "
"I don's know, 'a'am. He sayshe fell down and turned
on his ankle."
Prank is a bad boy, I am afrid* I am very sorry to say
that I understand he received his injury while attempting to
rob my hen-roost.
0, ma'm! I a rid i was aaid it was thing wrong." ex-
claimed the widow. And did he really mean to rob yon
who are so good a lady I I hope you won't be severe with
h. He shan't do so again I promise you," she continued,
"taiP g ng he haids.
SNo, I did not come to ancnse hli, or to have him
punished; but to try to persuade him to mend his ways,
and to tell him how very wrong suoh conduct is, and how
certainly it will make him miserable both bhre and her tr
if he pereereveres i it
Durm this conversation, Frank had kept his raecmbent
posture quivering all over, and convulsed with opposite
and conducting feelings. The ludness of Mrs. Morton in










coming to vislt his mother, the sympathy she had expressed,
and theogeinOe manner in which she had spoken of his own
fault, were almost too much even for his stubborn nature
to bear. He longed to confess the truth, and sk her fo-
giveness. But pride and obstinacy still held him back.
The passions, which had ruled him so long, struggled with
tb4 better thoughts that began to stir within him, and for
the present retained their wonted anntery. Hf resolved
not to submit to the shame of making such an aclknowledg.
meant. He would deny the charge, and bravely face it down.
Actuated by thin determination, he sat up in the bed, and
striving hard to put on an air of offended innocence said,in
a tone that he meant to be very bold-
I didn't do it, 'amu ; who told you I did "r
SPeter, the gardener, informed me," answered Mrs.
Morton; and I certainly supposed it to be true. But if he
was mistaken and you really are not guilty, am very sony
1 mentioned the subject at all. Never mind, Frank ; keep
quiet, and try to get well, and I wil do all I man to make
you and your mother comfortable."
Frank lay down again; but he was very il$ at ease. Hi
conlioince goaded him sorely. It was bad enogib, he
thought, to injure the property of so generous person; but
to deceive her, to impose on her frank and unmuspecting
disposition by a downright faleehood-that wa worse yet.
0', said he to himself, I am a bad boy, that's a fct "
Not that he was particularly ensitie to the sin of lying;
for this was one of his most common sins, and ordinarily he
could wallow lie asm monthly a if it were a cherry. But
the olrcimtstaces in which he had now uttered an untruth,
made the crime appear terrible to him; and agitated by the
stingb of remorse, he rolled and toesed as though the straw
mattress beneath him were of reALot iron.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Morton, having ordered the servant to
bring in the basket, began to take out its contents, and
present e the to the widow. Frak watched her as she pr-
eeded. Ftyt, a couple of pea, and several cops of custard
and jelly, made their appearance. They look good ; but I











don't desave em, oI oughtu't to touch 'emrn thought Frank.
Then a large boiled uar was brought forth. BShe don't
know what a lying villain she's going' to feed," quoth Frank.
Neat came a couple of fowls. Fowls I fowls I ah, rmk,
can you stand that" And then, or a dozen of fresh eggs
were produce d idand lad eroflly on the tble, Frank could
look no longer, but turning violently overon the other aide,
muttered to himself, Eggs 0 dear dear I wanted to
steal her egg, and she gives 'em to mea I can't eat 'em,
they'd choke me."
During the whole interview thus far, Clara had. st and
listened very quietly. But now, perceiving how restless
Frank was, and what discomfort hia countenance and move-
ments indicated, she rose from her seat, and approoehing
the bed, looked at him for a minute with a feac full of pity.
At l at, in a soft, sweet voice, she said-
oor Frank I does your foot pain you badly V"
S" Ye, it aches awful," answered Frank, balf crying.
SI'm very orry. SBt don't cry. other' got some nice
ointment 1 tho baket, hat will cure t very quick It ured
me last summer when I hurt my foot r ining after butter-
flies. I was out in the garden, and the sun was ehining
brightly, and the butterflies were so tbinc, rnd flew about
no prettily among the lowers, that I wanted to catch mome
very much There was e that waa great dea larger
than the rest, and he had such wide and beautiful wings, ail
covered with specy s of gold, and brown, and purple, and
they sparkld like so many stars. He led me a long chace
up and down the garden, uttering from plant to plant,
and from alley to alley, hov er now hre, now there, bu
never stopping inirate. At last he lit on a small bush
that grew olose to the ground, and I thought I wa sure of
him. I crept up very cautiously, and-was just about to clap
my bonnet over ing, when I stepped on a round an one that
had no business to be there, amnd sprained my anike dread-
fully. I couldn't help creaming with the pain; and mother
cajne out and carried me in, and bathed my foot with thi
oitntn-and I wa well agaai in two or three days. She










has brought soe of ih for you. It will take away all the
aoreeass amnd swelling, so that you will soon be able to walk
about s well as ever. And she haa got some custards and
jellie for you too. Wouldn't you like to have one nowl
It will make you foel better, i so ure."
So saying, she went to the table, and after asking her
mother's leave, took one of the custards and carried it to
him. The poor fellow was now completely subdued. Mrns
Morton's generosity had nearly overcome him; but the kind
words of Clara, her symvpthizing look and soothing tones,
connected with the remembrance of how he had wantonly
vrned and grieved her, Tluahed the work, and melted him
entirely. He took the custard front her hand and tried to
eat it; but hi heart was too full: the food seemed to stick
in his th rot, and he found it impossible to swallow a morsl.
Putting down the vup, and hrsting into tears, he sobbed
out-
1O, Mra. Morton 0, Mis Chlra! I don't deserve iech
nice things. Haven't been good to you ae all. I did go for
to steal your eggs, and I told you a lie When I said I didn't.
I know'd there was a big lot of 'ea in the barn, and I
thought you wotfadn't misa a few. I warnmt thinking of no
harm at the time; but I now feels very bad about it.
couldn't let you be so kind to me without telling how
wicked I've been. I won't do so any mor, and I'll try and
be a good oy, if you'll forgive me."
For a iomentx Mrs. Morton looked very grave, and Clara
verJy bfad at tle confession. After a brief silence, the former
said-
a* am much grieved, Frank, not only at your attempt to
molest my property, but still more at the untruth you told
i denying it. The lose I might have sustained is of no
consequence; but pilfering nd lying ar very sinful and
dangerous habits, and, if not forsaken. will ruin you in tbh
world and in the next. As you express sorrow for tlemn,
however, I freely forgive youand hope you will avoid mach
conduct in futulr. gnt you must ask God's forgiveness as
well as new o oa nnar e i far om more agna him than








=Oo rox EVIs. 25
against ue. You have be keon his holy law, and he will not
pas, it by, unless you truly repent, and seek his mercy
through ha Son Jesus Christ."
This address, though proper and necessary, ws more
than the poor lad could endure. He was greatly agitated;
he wept aloud; he Rung himself from side to side; and, in
the agony of his distress, hirly shook the bed under him.
Clara's little heart bled at the sight Going up to him, she
laid one of her boft, white hands on his hot and ann-burned
forehead, and brushing back from it the coarse, tangled
looks, looked down into hie face with her bright eyes
swimming in tears, and said, in voice that trembled with
emotion-
S0, Prank II am so sorry for you. But don't feel so bad.
Mother won't care about the egg ; and I don't care about
the robin, for you didn't drive him away after all. He cme
back when you were goneand stayed about the house a long
time. And he's back agai this spring, and another one
with him ; and they've got the prettiest nest that ever was,
out in the orchard, with two lovely little egg in it; and you
shall come and see themwhen you get well. You're going
to be a good boy now, I'm certain; and mother will love
you, and we will all love you; and God will forgive you,
and help you t do right; for the Bible says We is always
ready to forgive those who are worry for doi g wrong, und
that he will not remember their Ans any more."
It must have been a very hard heart which these sweet
words failed to soften, and a very hopeless one that could
not be comfoe by them. What eft they had on Frank
will be seen In the next chapter.














CIIAPTER TV.

THE VICTORY.

Taena is something n real sympathy that goes at once to
the heart. The rudest natures feel it no less than the nmwt
refined. Frank was wild and untutored, pervero and wil-
ful in temper, and reckless in conduct. But he was not
utterly reprobate, His vices were the result rather of
ignorance and neglect than of any invncable obliquity of
mind. He possessed redeeming qualities, which, when once
called forth, rendered him accessible to 4igtt impresslons
and gave promise of amendment. To harsh and unfeeling
reproof he was perfectly callous; but companion and ten-
demeas bad a power over him. of which he was himself pro-
bably Tnoonsious, hoe forbearance of Mrs. Morton, and
her pious counsel, had awakened the moral sense that
hitherto lay dormant in his bosom. He saw the wicked-
ness of lhi behaviour, and the sad end to which it would
lead. Shame, elf-reproach, fear, were all alive within him.
But something more than thse was needed to effect a
salutary change in his character. He must be roused from
his despondency. He must feel not only sorrow for the
past, hut hope for the future. This chord Clara taoched.
Her afleetionate and encouraging words fell like baln on
his troubled spirit. They calmed and composed him. They
nerved and strengthened him. There sprung up in his
breast a new-born purpose-the heav&n-imparted thought
that he could refoias and that he would do it.
Raising his eyes to the speaking little face that hung over
im, he said earnestly-
"1 wish I was good like you, Clara.
S0 no, I'm not good," she anowered decidedly, "and you
must not think so. Ask mother, ad she can tell you that
I have a great many faults. I arn sometimes fretful and
peevish, a and then I ay nd do naughty things. was ery











angry with you las winter for stoning my bird, and wanted
you whipped. But mother showed me how wrong it was,
and I was sonry, and forgave you If I am not as wicked
as you have been, it is not because I am any better nmyelf,
but because I have been better taught."
I wish somebody would teach me," murmured thepoor,
neglected boy- "Won't you, Mis 1arat I should so like
to leam, to be good; and you talk so indly,I think I could
learn, if you would show me."
All along Cla had been watching for an opportunity to
bring forward her darling osheme of prevailing on Frank to
go to the- Snday-snbool; sfd now that the conversation
had taken a turn which led so naturally to it, she seized
upon the opening with a tact so delicate, and a zmot so
eager, that they were charming to witness.
"I cannot teach you myself Frank;'" he replied, "for
I'm only an ignorant little thing. B t conme, ll tell you
what to do-join the Sunday-chool; there you will lear
all about being good. There we read the Bible,which tell.
us how God loved us, and how he wanted us to be good so
much that he sent his own Son into the world, to take
away our bss and show us the way to be good. And there
are in it a great many beautiful stories about goo, en and
good children, and they are all true; and it is fulnf uech
sweet things about heaven, and about the good people that
have gone there, and about the angels, and the white robes,
and the anthe bahymna, and the bright plains, and
the streets of pure gold, that you feel as if you saw it all,
and wanted to go right. up there. And then our temacers,
they ar so kind, and love as so dearly, and tolk to n so
pleasantly about esus, and how he is willing to eave us
and how he aksa us to come to him, and holds out his
arme to receive us. Our superintendent, too, Mr. Law-
rence, what speeches he does make I And there's nur
library, suoh nice books, and go many of them. 0, Franbk
you will ome, won't yout You will like t so much, I
know."
Frank hesitated at this proposal. Notwithstanding the











better feeling that had begun to work within him, he could
not all at once lay aside his old habits of thinking; and one
oF these was a peculiar prejudice against the Siday-school.
He was wont to regard it as a place of tedious confinement
-a sort of child's prisona--wher the little sfferera were
compelled to sit very still on bard beeches in a close room,
through long weary hours, while the fields were smiling,
and the fresh breezes blowing, and the sunshine dancing so
merrily without, He was as wild a a young bear, and
loved to range the woods and mountains as well; ad he
had never beeo taught that it was ay ein to indulge his
rambling propensities on the Babbath. It very often hap-
pea that the sinner, though convinced of the nocessity of
reformation in general, will yet start back when urged to
renounee some par ltr and favourit transgression. Thus
was it with rank. As Clara pressed her invitation upon
him, his first thought was, that if he complied with it he
anst give up his Sabbath roaminga; and, in his reluctance
to do this, he answered-
"I don't want to be shut p so; I'd got dreadful tired
don't. I couldn't rn about and play a bit."
"Ah, but, Frank," replied Clara, "i-'s wicked to run
about and play on the Sabbath. God command us to rest
on that day. And the way we are to ret is to go to church
and to Sunday-school, and to read his Word, and hear his
gospel preached, and learn how we may erve him, and be
happy with him for ever. That rests body and wind both.
I always find it Wh it When it anow or rain very ha, or
I have got a bad cold, so that mother doea not think it sae
for me to go oa the day seems very long, and I feel a grant
deal more tired when it is done, than if I had been to the
Sundayschool- No, Frank, you won't be tired. When
nighatconmee you slS feel a great deal easier than yon do
when you spend the abbath rambling over the hill, or
boating on the river. You will feel easier in your legmBand
you will feel o easy here," added she, amilag archly, and
laying her hand on her heart.
SBut I'm afeored to go," muttered Frank. l soa











ignorant and roughlike, and I've never been in si h places,
I'd be afeared to go I by myself the frt time, with so
many folks all looking at me. I don't know nothliA about
the leasons, and a'd be sertlh to make some blunder; and
then they'd all laugh, and I'd want to run right off."
Clara mused for a moment, and then turning to her
mother, Inquired-
Mother, if Fank will attend the school, may I come for
him and take him theoe the first time he goos "
SYea, my dear," answered Mrs. Morton, "if the weather
ie pleasant."
SNow. rank," aid Cla, nex6, Sunday morning,'l f ini
fair, and you are well enough, Il come out here and go
with you to school, and initrodnoe you to Mr. awrencm.
The scholam would not laugh at you if yon went alone, for
they never do it, because they know it is wrong. But no
one will think of it, if I am with you. Yno cannot have
any excase now, and you won't refuse to go, will you, if I
some after you I"
She looked at him earnestly, oxpcting and hoping that
be would give the desired promise; but he seemed embar-
rased, and remained silent. At length his mother said-
"I'm afraid, Mase Clrasthat Yrank has not any clothes
ft to wear at the school. I meant to have got him some
new ones before now; but I've been poorer than common
this spring, and my being sick so muach las put me balk,
and I banen't been able to do it. I'l ge'them ready as soon
as I can, and then I shall be very glad to have him go"
"Dou not trouble yourself about it," aid Mrs. Morton
"that hall be my part of the business. If you will permit
me, I will procure him such a unit as he needs, and have It
sent home by Saturday evening.
This offer was accepted by the widow with many thanks.
And now the victory was won. Clara triumphed. Stinm-
lated by i ey i newly awaened desire of improvement, and
encouraged by the kind interest shown in hi welf ne, the
grateful by yielded to her importnittes, and proumied not
only to attend the school, but to do $ia best to profit by its











instructions. And he felt ich happier when he had made
this promise. He felt levat; he felt if he was o
lhow hfed out of his former self; as if he bad taken the
first step in the right course i as if a new bing and a new
destiny were opening before him.
On rising to take leave, Mrs. Morton, turning towards
him, and addr being him in a very affectionate and winning
manner, said-
"I cannot tell you, Frank, how pleased I am at tho sepir
you have manifested and the resolution to which you have
come. Persevere as yon have began, and all will be well.
You will soon gain respect and confidence, and will grow
up to be a good and useful man. I hope that you -ill
carefully heed the precious truths that will be taught you
in the school, and strive to regulate your conduct by them
on all occasion. le kInd and obedient to your mather
she is not very strong, and needs all the help you can give
her. One thing more I should lik to say, if you will not
be offended with me for mentioning it. I observe that you
treat very severely the poor beast that I see standing before
your door- He does all he can to assist you, and it ia wrong
to abuse him. This may seem to you a small matter; but
it is not so. Cruelty to animals not only cannes great suffer
ing to ceareturs which God has placed in our power, but
has a most hardening and pernicious effet upon those who
practise it. I trust you will soon get the better of all your
faults. But do not be discouraged if you find them still
clinging to you for a tine. Evil habits are not uprooted in
a day; and it is only th ae ra of God that can enable us
effeetually to subdue them. And now I must go. I have
no doubt that I shall hear an excellent account of yon."
SGood-by, Frank," cried Clara, looking back from the
door, and shaking her finger at him; "I shll be here after
you early on Sabbath morning; so do not let that foot keep
you tied down there like a big baby.
Frank promised to be ready; and then mother and
daughter departed for their home, greatly delighted with
the reslt- f their visit.













CHAPTER V.
THE A N At n OL.
TH sun rose clear on the following Sabbath; and as soon
as breakfast and family worship were over, Clara set out,
with a very bright face and a very happy heart, on her
mission of kindness. Her way, an before, lay across the
fields; and a short but pleasant walk brought her to the
door of the widow's dwelling. Frank was ready in his new
suit, waiting for her, and together they started forthe place
of their destination
It was a most lovely morning. The air was mild nd
balmy, and perfumed with the fragrance of numerous fruit-
trees now in full blossom. White flecy olods spread like
a veil over the sky, just deep enough to soften, without
concealing, the nsn's beams; and drop" of dew, not yet
exhaled, lay glittering on the young gras and the fresh
opened leaves. A profound stillness reigned around, inter,
erupted only by the distnwa lowing of cattle, the martin song
of birds, the gurgle of strenas, or the whispers of the wind
in the neighboring woods. Everything was marked byth
deep hush peculiar to that sweetest of all tmae and scones
- Sabbah in the country.
A bbth th the country What peaceful image ri
before us at the word Ye dweller in cites, cooped up in
hot, lose walls, conned to narrow aid dusty streets% where
the breath of heaven smagnate, or is poisoned by noxious
edlvia; where, even during the sacred hours of the Lord's
day, dens of vice send fortL their stench, and oaths and
blasphemy are heard, and crowds move to and io, and
carriage battle along the pavements, and uproar deafens
the ear and distracts the mina-how little ye know what a
Sabbath really is I Ye have gorgeous ho6tes or worship,
and gaily dryeet e ble d a peali organs, and elo-
quent asenon-bt no Sabbath. Would 'ye see that as God










made it, hia away to some remote rral daitrict, where the
sober and reHliion population sintain thoir primtive
habits, uncontaminated by the neighborhood of great
townsp What a deliotos repose, the emblem of a holier
resst pervades the whole soonel Ino ri-carr steamboat,
puffin out fire and smoke, goes thundering by. No stage
coach rolls noiily along the highway. The roads ar de-
serted, except where here and there gre worahippere,
Bigle or in groups, ar sen repairing to the temple of God.
Forest, and vald vley, d hillside, sleeping in a dreamy
calm; ad o widde and unbroken is the ailence, that even
the note of te grasshopper strikes with clear distinctnes
on the ear.
Such was the delihtfil quiet which prevailed, as Clams
and her companion proeeded on their way. The bchurh
to which they were bound stood on green knoll a little
back from the village, emboBomed in tree., and nsurownded
by an enclosure of four or five mares One side of this
enclomire- was fenoa off into a grave-yard, where many a
low mounbtd d white stonee glrded he odus that slmered
beneath." Althungh it was the home of$he deAd, there -
nothing sombre or gloomy in it appearance. It wa laid
out n a very nest and tateful manner, with shaded walk
winding through it; and almost every grave was thickly
planted with flowers and evergreen e lbs, testifying the
affection of the living for the loved ones that lay there.
Mere, before and after ( service, the people ere accustomed
to reort, and to convese, in low,olemn tone, about their
deceased friends and neighbour, and the coming time when
they themisele should be laid by their side. The oppositd
part of the enclonre wem ocoepied by a row of sheds feo
the accommodation of hornem and vehicles; while at the
thennd, and in the rwar of the oeh eatood the building
appropr iated to the mBnday-heol. The members of the
ongregation thought too much of the health and comfort
of the school to put it into a damp nder-ound banemens,
even if their place of wofhip had been dilsigred by ndh,
which it was nost and ina ercting a separte building f










its use, they had known too well what they were about to
arrange the premises in mch & manner as to divide the
school, and compel it to meet in different roof. In oppo-
eition to this mistaken po ly, they had constructed a plea-
sant and coinnodioiei edifie of one storey, oontaiatig a
single ipnrement, easy of access well ventilate, and suffi-
oiently large to allow all the pupils of both sees to naetn-
ble under the charge of one superintendent. Andl with a
view of rendering it more att racive, they bad encircled i
with trees and shrubbery, and had trained roea, ad honey-
mkbles, and other creeping plants, along the window ; so
that in wammer time the children et there with the breath
of fowers stealing in upan then. Prom thie .muroh several
footpathe led off i various directions to the faMrn and
dwelling in the viointy; and a broad enclosed lane, hined
with maples and poplars, conneo ted it with the main road
and with the village.
Towards this sweet apot the pupils of the ehool were
now approachig from different points. Some ovae up the
alley by the river bide; some from residence near at
hand; some from scattered bbitatos a ntilo or two away
anong the buils. They came one by one, and in companies.
Here might be seen a curly-headed boy, with cherry cheeks
nad a laughing eye, walking leirel" y along by himself,
topping now and then to pick up a hining pebble, to trae
the flight of bird, or watch the gaibols of a Msurrel;
and there a band d ot b r ter.s ing on together
and chatting merrny, the younger once often starting fro
the path to chao e a buttery, or gather a wild-flower, and
the older ones waiting for them, or calng after them t
oomea back. They come with light steps and joyous eon
tenanoes. But while they were evidently very happy, and
showed their sympathy with the gladness of everything
around them, a quiet Testraint seemed to hang upon the
natural eanberance of their apirite, as if they felt tha noisy
frti woa ill salted to that holy day.
Although it wal not dte thme to open the ecoobl, yet
moee of the scholar were already there, when COlr and











Frank arrived. Considerable srprse vwa felt, na there
well might be, at seeing her enter so attended; for it is
scarcely possible to imagine a greater contrast than that
whichth te two children presented. Clara was about eleven
years old, rather small and slender, but with a form of the
most perfect symmetry. Her face ws lightly oval, and
the features fnely chiselled. Her eomplexioe had that
delicate, transparent tint, in which the rose struggles faintly
with the lly; and her rich aSburn hair, unfettered by braid
or coemb, broke out from under her ipsy bonnet, and fell
in golden waves upon her shoulders. But that which nmoe
truck the beholder was her eyee. They were of the purest
azure, and so vivid in their expression, that they seemed
to refect from their clear depths all the bright though
that were constantly bubbling up in her mind, and tow
from her tongue. She vws a most beautiful child;
evory look and motion evinced the ease, ntlligene, and
grace of a rare and fted nature, fostered by maternal care
and developed by skilful culture. Frank, on the contrary,
was rather a rough specimen of humanity. He wan not
misshapen or deformed, nor was the general ant of bis
countenance repulsive in itel. But he was extremely
uncouth. His tfee and hands were deeply embrowned by
the tsn and wind; and hi wild, untrimmed looks, from
frequent expoesre without & hat, had been scorched into a
dull yellow. His gait was esha bling, hi gestaures ngainly ;
and his whole appearance bore marks of the ignorance and
negleeo in which he had lived.
Little did Clara notib of all this, or if she did, little did
she care for it. As the poor, untaught lad, startled by the
new faces before him, and aenashed by a feeling of awk-
wardness, hesiLated and a~runk back, it was beautiftil to
see how kndl' she encouraged him, and how gently she
spoke to him, and with what winning ways she stroveato
reassure and put him at his ease. Scarcely less interesting
was it to observe the pleasure which she showed in hafinf
been the means of bringing bra. there, and the ainoeeut
tripeph with which she regarded her succeed.










Leading him up to the snporintendent, who was standing
at his desk preparing to commence the exercise, se said-
O, Mr. Lawrence, I have brought a new schola. Here's
Frank Haynes come to join uP.. Are not you glal"-
"Yes, Clae, I am very glad, and 1 thank you for the
pains you have taken to per suae hin to come, and hope
God will reward you for it. I am always pleased when
any one is added to the school; and I am still more pleased
that our dear littl pvupUi show anch an It reo t in its
increase.'
Then tu g to Frank, he gave him an ffectionate
greeting, and said-
I am moet happy to seo you, my young friend, and in
the name of the whole school bid you a cordial welcome.
You have done wisely in resolvn to unite with us in the
study of God's holy Word; and you will never regret it.
My dear children," he continued, addresmng the school,
"here is a fresh re ruit co to enlist in olPr little armny
Are you not all glad to receive hInto'
The girls said Yes with a pleasant smile, and the boys
said Te" with a hearty ehout, and crowding up around
the new comer, and shaking him warmly by the hand,
seemed so glad to see him, end aid so many kind things to
hm, that rank thought they were the fSest fellow in the
world, and began to forget hi beahfn nese, ad to feel hbi-
elf quite at home.
These demonstration over, the sierintnaden. began to
consider in what aniner he should dispose of Frank so as
beet to secure his improvement. After reflecting a while,
he called Up to him ne of te teachers, a young man by
the name of Seymour, who was distingushed for his intelli-
gence and piety, and pos e a remarkable talent for
onioiunati$ng instruction.
SMr. Seymour," he said, hae you a Tacan seat in your
client"
Yes, sir," waP the reply-
Will you undertake the charge of this ladt yon will
finS him very i~orant, I sa afraid, and may have mnob










trouble in making him comprehend what you wish to teach
him:'
I do not fear trouble, when a soul is to be enlightened
and saved'
"I now you do not; and IX therefore, commit him to
your hands with entire conidnce that you will take all
possible pains to inatil into his mind the truths of th
Gospel."
Thus the matter was arranged; and Mr. aBeymor ad-
dressing Frank in a very kind andncouragg manner, led
him to a seat with the class of boys over which he pre-
sided.
The bell now ang for the exercise to commence, and
the children at once took their places The superintonden
then gaio out from a little book which they used, alled
The Hanp, the beautiful hymn beginning with the lines-

Thtnrcuon'. fwrnin volce.
And who oUklti Finesdo mnke,
Hfl rly,. only chofe."
When the kym, had been read, the teacher and sholars
all joined in it singing rank was very much affeed.
He had heard rude boys ad ruder men dreaming out
coarse vnlgr ballads at fairs and other merry-making;
but he had never before Itened to anything like this. The
words were no solen s; the tane wa So sweet, the voices of
the children, espcialy of the little girl blended so prettily
with the deeper and fuller notes of the teachers; and the
combined harmony broke forth o richly on the still morn
ing air, and flaoted away so delightfully amid the sanhine
and the powers, tat Frnk hardly knew what to think of it.
Ne looked up at the ceiling. He looked out of the win-
dows. He rubbed his eyes with hi aleeve. He ft
strangely. Where wa ha In a new world, sure
When the singing was oonmleded, the whole conpny
kneeld down by their forms, and covered their faes with
their bands. Frank imitated the movement, though he
scarwely understood what it meat. oon he heard the











voice of the enperintondent, as if speaking to some one-
Ho raised ml eys to iea, who it was that he was addres-
ing; but he osw only bowed heads on every side of him,
and Mr. Iawrence standing by his flee, and talking ear-
nestly. He buried his face in his hand again, and listened.
In a few moments, he discovered, from the expressions neod,
that Mr. I iwrenos was praying. e was onverning with
the great God who lives in heaven, who know all thing,
and can destroy s in a moment. Frank was ,wed. He
thought it a solemn thing to be in the ame room with a
man who was talking to qod, ad talking, too, as if God
was very nigh and heard him.
The prayer being finished, the scholar resumed their
seats, and opened their Bibles. The loeson whioh they
were to study that morning, was the rParble of the ro-
digal Son. Frank could read a little, having been far a
short time in the public school; but he had rarely opened
the Bible, and knew almost nothing of its content. The
subject of the lesson was, therefore, quite new to him; and
an his teacher proceeded to explain the parable, and to put
questions to the class concerning it, and to pren home upon
them its practical application to their own state, hi atten-
tioq was gradually aroused, d hi intereb awakened.
He did not understand very clearly much of what was aid ;
for although Mr. Bsymour used the plainest language, and
studiously endeavord to adapt both hi thoughts and his
expreaaiona to the capacity of the youngest and least ih-
stoted of his pupil yet Frank was so unfamiliar with
religions idea%, sad with the terom in wWhch they are 0on-
veyed, as to be able to forn only an indilbint conception
of tir meaning. ut the atory f the prodigal affected
him. It seemed like a ploture of himelt e thought that
he, too, bad been .k his life fr away- from good. The
sweet words and simple eloqu eno of th inspired narrat
touched his heart ad strengheed within him the dtesie
and ithe hop of amendment














CHaATEU VI.
A PAbAfLS EXPOUNDED.
WanH the teacher had gone through the lesson with their
classes, the superintendent rang his bell to call the attention
of the school, and then, taking up the subject with which
they had been occupied, made one of those addresses of
which Clara had spoken in aooh high praibs
SWell, children," he said how do you like your lesson
to-day '
"Very much indeed they all answered.
"What has it been about?"
"A parable"
Can any of you tell me what a parable isl
All were silent, except a little bright-eyed girl, whoo
blushing, and looking hurriedly round upoa the ret, as if
frightened at her own boldness, limped out-
A pretty story, sir."
SWell done, my little ary ; you have hit it exactly.
Yeq a parable is a story, or short narrtive of incidents, ml
or supposed, intended to ilustrat spiritual truths. In this
parable, our Lord tells us of a father that hade twio soe
whom he loved very tenderly, and to whom he showed every
proper indulgence. the young men might have been very
happy, for they had a delightul home, where they were
allowed a goat many comforts and innocent pleasures, and
had nothing to do except what woa for their good. L ut the
younger son became dissatisfied. He dd not like to submit
to his father's authority. He got the foollh and wicked
notion into his head, that he was kept in. too mobchand that
he should be happier if he could net up for himensel and o6
as he pleased, without any one to control him. So he asked
his father to give him that portion of the family property
which would one day be his, and oe would go and soek his
fortune. The good man was eoooedingly grieved that his










dear boy wanted to leave him, but judged it bat, on the
whole, to let him hIave hi way, hoping that experience
would soon cure him of Is folly. Having obtained this
reluctant consent, the ungrateful fellow packed up all hi
money and clothes, and turning his back npon his kind old
father, and on the pretty spot where he had been born and
brought up, without caring whether he ever saw them again,
went off as fast as he could into a fo country. What do
you think of such a fellow as that 1"
He was very naughty," they all aid.
Yea, he was not only very naughty, but, lie most boys
that wish to escape from parental control, he was very milly
too, as the result showed. For, instead of engaging in some
useful and protable business, by which he might husband
and in reaso what he had brought with hiMt, he fanoied him-
self emces ieely rich, and squandered hiU siubtance an ifthere
was no end to it. What with the careless way in which he
kept it, the gay clothes he bought, the sumptuous wmanet
in which he lved, the disolte company he entertained, he
made i6 fly very fia, you may be snre. While his money
lasted, he had plenty of friends. Crowds of idle and proli.
gate associate followed him whereverhe went. Little did
they care into what extravagance they led hiMa; it was no
concern of theirs; he pai for all. Hio patrimony, ma you
Imry suppose, was soon gone ; and then all these wicked
companions that had f pon him, flattering hi- vanity, and
telling him wht fine, generous fellow he was, dropped o
one by one, and left him alone in his shai and beggary.
To agravate hi distress there arose a great famine' ju
about this time ; s that food was dearest when he had the
least means of procuring it. He was poor and mierable
enough nrow. He had not a penny to buy himelf a dinner,
or get a new cot, or a poir of shoes and not one of those
whod ha ele h helped im end i money while he had it,
would lend him a farthig. What was he to do Should
he go bach to his father, and tell him how wiked and diso-
bedient he hta baen, and ask to be restored to hi favour
Should he anbmit to the mortifiotion of hearing his former










eaquaintanoe say, Here's that youngster thab hold his head
so high, and went awayso grandboasting what groat thiin
he woulddo. Poor work he has mado of i I Thre he ie,
all in rags, without a penny in his poet, and looking as if
he had not slet in a bed, or eaten a meal for weeks' 2o,
he would not do that. le would beg, he would setrve, he
would even work first So he looked abott h~m for employ-
ment. Ut he found it verydiult to get any The famine
made business ery dull; and decent people did not like to
hire a person whose face, and tremliun limb, and tattered
finy, told so strongly of recent diesipation. At length he
beard of a man that lived a long way of in a wild part of
the country, and had a great estate on which immense
herds of cattle atmd Swine were kept, Having no other
re source left, he resolved to seek on& this man, and see if he
would not give uhm something to do that would keep him
from starving. Afer a long journey over rough and hilly
roads, he reached the place t last, so weary, footsore, nd
hungry, that he could hardly stand. The man had a great
many labourer already, ant did not need any more; hut "
the applicant see" p helpless and foroaen, he thought it
good chance to get work done without paying for it. So e
concluded to take him. An d what s r of business do you
suppose he put him at 1"
"Feeding the pigs," eried a laon-hred urohin, about
seven yests ol, holding p hi head, and looking as ff he
thought he had lsid something very smat.
You ae right, my little man: Ha sent him hito le
fiudsW to feed swine. Now you know, chlldre, that among
the Jews, whom our BSaiour was addressing, swine were
regarded with peculiar abhonence as unelean animtl
whose flea their law forbade them to une. Hence, in their
view, to tend wine was one of the mot degrading occnps
tione in whilk it was possible to engage. We thus aee to
what wretched debasement a comes of disobedloece leads.
eera we thid young man, who, while at honea had always
been ohb ishehd and arewsse, said of whom no service had
ever been required which If wa notan honour to him to pr











form, reduced so low in consequence of hs waywardnees, a
to beo the disreputable caling of twat-
ing upon foul and flthy boas, the very sight of which was
an abomination to all his ideas od feelings. But though he
lowered himself to esch mean tomn, he could not thereby
supply ha necessities-. Hia oaner was an avaricious Man,
who not only renuaed to pay himany wages, but- was Bo roel
as to deny minh the coa'et food. So painful was his hunger,
that he wu ld Sadly have stilled its cravings by eating the
husks or pods of the carob-tree,* wilh ich the swine were
fed; but even this he was not permitted to do.
In the extremity of his suffering, he began at length to
see his poat conduct in its true light. He awoke from h
forgetfnuneh, of home. Be ooiecon cne bok to him, With
agonizing sorrow he thought on the base return which ho
had made for al hi father's ere and love. Recollections
of his fathers hoe-of its anyo s o its plentiful
table, where even the lowest metal found bread enough
and to spare I of its old familiar faces, ad of th happiness
which he once enjoyed there-rose up vividly to his mind,
and made his loneliness and destiution appear more
terrible. His pride and obstinacy gave way. Ie deter-
mined to endure hi present state no longer, He would go
back to his father, Justly aoftndod by his ingratitude, his
father might refte to receive him d a a son ; no matter, ho
would become his servant. Hif early associate might scor
him; let them scon, he deserved it. Home he would has-
ten, whatever his reception.
ll of these repentant feelings, he abandons ha hard
employer ; leaves the wine to take care of themselves, and
to eat as many hiasks a they lke; and start for home. It

The Gafrek w wkord, re asa" In onr Zngar h NSer Testumen,
denosote e ft e ltree wbicdi ery abundant in Itly. Eyp4t, ad Pgin-
na. It bears. a Ereat lumber Ct pod4, or a curved hae na la horn. fom
svI to tght Snchs. in lhsgth. a&at l5l rith ta wMlt jhTe. SeliSgtly Ia
In ta Thapods ane osan g n f- to tattle and .win n aMafl
oetmero eaten by poor people In eon o ain. tmey, iowm, po*-
Ma lele nutrinom ut and are comniderd ver mea e te. Time k M
tihe toree SeeaN, un-tfree, ne st, Enta rne I cwOa.










was a long way he had to travel, for be had wandered oft
to a great distan He had deerts to cross, mountains to
cimb, rivers to wade; but the memory of home stimulates
him to the effort, and nerves him with endnrane. Without
money, without clothes, without food, he pressee forward,
up hill and down hill, through gloomy forests, and over
wide, barren plain; the cry of Home home l father
father' bursting from his lips, and quickening his teps.
Onward-onward still-he goes. Weeks pass. The hot sun
scorches him by day; the damp earth in his bed by night.
Hia feet are swollen and bleeding, and his emanated limbs
reel and totter under his weight. At last the nad journey
is near its end. A steep ascent rises before hin, from the
top of which his father's mansion can be see-n. ut his
exhausted strength can carry him no farther Faint, and
sick at heart, he lies down to die almost within sight of th
goal for which he hns striven so long. And shall he die
thus t No, no. Again the thought of the once loved ones
now so near him breathes fresh vigour into his sinking
frame. He springs to his feet once more, and struggles
upward, shouting as loud as his feeble Tvolo will let him,
I Home I home I father father ?
"Meanwhile the father had not forgotten his still dear,
though erring child. Hia heart yearned after the wanderer,
and clung fodly to the hope that he would yet return. Of
every traveller that passed he mde inquiries concerning
him. He hard of ie raocos driving; then that he had spent
all; then that he was in great want; then that he had gone
no one knew whither. He trusted that his distress would
bring him to Me sense, and load him back to the armn that
longed to welcome him. In thin expectation, he often
walked out along the road by which hie son had departed,
or went up to a turret on the house-top, that commanded a
wide view over the plain, to see if he could discover any
sign of his coming. One day he was unusually agitated.
He moved reatlessly from rom to room. Wherever he
turned, he met something that recalled the lost one. He
thought of him as he had been when a little boy. He fel











again the preswre of his tiny hands clasping his kneoe, or
twining his hair; he heard again the pattering of his nimble
feet and the ringing of hi merry voice.
Unable longer to control his anxiety, he ascended to hi
aonutoned look-ot. There he seood for a long time,
straining hi eyes over the wide prospect, to catch some
glimpse of his returning son. The heavy honrs drag on,
but he sees nothing. The son i king low; the shadows
mwe beginning to fall -tilLthe fond parent continues his
eager watch. An object appears o thle summit of the dis
tant hill. It at6p for a moment. It sinks to the ground.
Itries again, and moves slowly forward. Now it is hidden
from view by intervening trees Now it emerges, nearer
and more distinct. It a man. 'T it-is it my on t asis
the anxious father, throwing his whole soul into his gaze.
, No, no, it cannot be. My aon went forth erect and tell,
with youthful rigour and a bounding step; but thia one is
weak and tottering, and bowed as by the weight of year or
Borrow.' The wayfarer comes painfully down the dusty
path. He raine his heaggad face toward the old house,
and the old turret, and the venerable form that is leaing
out from it. The father sees that face, for a father's eye
can ee far. Changed as it is, le knows it, and exclaiming,
'*t is he t in he rushes from the trret, and down the
stai and out at the door, and p the rod fat se his aged
limbs can bear him. The so, sees his father running to
meet him, and mingled feelings of shaeme, penitene, and
love, swell and struggle in bhi bosom. ie staggers on a
few paces, then falls weeping at his father feeb, and sobs
out in broken wacent, -Father, I have sinned against
Heaven and in thy sight, and am no mor-worthy to be
called thy so,' The father ciaspe him round the neck,
cover him witl kissee, pressee him to his heart, and orie,
while tears stream down his farrowed cheek, My so, my
son, my longa l oaon Then he lifts him up and conducts
him into the honTe. He takes of his rage and olothe him
In holiday attire, with shoes on h-feet-and a ring on his
hand; d an mmomening household, bids them prepare a










feast to celebrate his arrival. 0 what joyous excitement
was there in that house that might I servants running to
and fro-hug fires blazing on the hearth and roaring up
the chimneys-the batted calf roasting-the great table
drawn out in the hall, groaning under its load asSintine
-bells riging--mxuio playing-happy voices soundng-
gladness in every eye, and congratulation on every lip,
because the lost was found, the dead was alive again "
By this time many of the children were in tesar, and-somo
weeping aloud. The superintendent, perceiving how deeply
they were affected, paused a moment to allow them to
become a little more composed, sad then conied--
"You have listened, my dear pupil, to this touching
account, and your look show how much you are interested
in it. But now I w nt you to consider what it is designed to
teach. ]n the misguided young man, who left his father'
house with the vain fancy that he should thus better his
condition, we have the likeness of all those who for ake
God, the fountain of living waters and seek for happiness
in the path of worldliness and sin. Such s naturally the
character of each one of s. We have gone away from our
heavenly Father, cast off his laws, and rejected his serve.
And as the prodigal found only wretchednes and slavery
where he expected deligt ad e nd edom, o we can reap
from the aeed of truangression nothing but a harvest of
shame and wo. The disobedient son, whose history we
have traced, aaw his folly before it was too late, and re.
turned with sincere contrition to his orgiving and loving
father. May the Holy Spirit convince no, in like manner,
of the guilt and miery that attend a state of alienation from
God, and, through faith in the atonement of Christ bring u
back to the footstool of Divine mercy. Our Father in
haven longe to recover and embrarc every wandering
child and if we go to him in true repentance, he will
graMlonsly paeron all our offence s receive us as his sas
and hda mte ; array us in the white rob of the faiom's
righteoness; place on our hands the ring of adoption;
feast us in his banqueting houe; and rejoice over u with










exceedingjoy. And all holy beings will rejoice with him;
for there ie joy in the presence of the angels of God over
one sinner that repenteth.'
*In the pamable which bea been examned, there was one
thing that marred the general gladness. The elder oan
grudged the welcot given to his brother, and refused to
share in it. ae conduct not only illustrates the aeleh
bigotry of the Jews who murmured became the Gentiles
were admitted into the kingdom of God, but administers
reproof to all in every age who, favoured with high advan-
tages, look with contempt upon the neglected and destitute.
While we should be thankful for the ditingished privileges
which we enjoy, and while we should nalve it our first
endeavour to aeore a person interest in the blessings of
the Gospel, it is also our duty to cherish a fraternal regard
for the ignorant and the outcast, and to ue every mean
in our power to gather them into the old of the great
Shepherd"
Many eyeo were stealthily directed towanrs Frank, as
these word were uttered; and if any had been inclined to
tool down upon him, to ridicule his awkwardness, or to
laugh at his ignorance, they ow felt ashamed of the very
thought, and resolved to treat him with particular kindness
and attention.
Another hymn having Ibee sangn and prayer offered by
Mr. Beymowr, the exerisee of the morning wore closed, and
teachers ar d scholaes repred to the church for the purpose
of enagngaging public worship.



CHAPTER VII.

PooanBtB I REFORM.
Wow nnU e te t ortio wro by the u by te Sun-
day-school. It hi the mightieat agency whit the world
has ever een for the right educatoit of youth. Not only










does it tend directly, and with great power, to imbue the
mind with divine knowledge, to open it to religious impre-
sions, and prepare the way for the converting energy of the
Holy Spirit; but its collateral realts-the influence which
it wields in elevating the degraded and reforming the
vioion-are of inestimable value- Under its moulding
hand, the idle become diligent; the church and rude grow
rained; the ignorant acquire intelligence; the profane
learn to reverence the name of their Maker; the dissolute
are reclaimed; and those whose unchecked depravity
would have made them the pests of society, are rendered
virtuous, useful, and happy, the joy of their friends, and the
hope of their country.
These benign effects were soon visible in Fradk Haynee.
He had attended the school but a short time, before his
whole bearing and conduct showed a marked improvement
He left off his habit of lying, swearing, pilfering, and SBb-
bath-bretaMg. His epech became les vulgar, his manners
lees clownish, his appearance more net and orderly; and
so altered was his entire deportment, that the inhabitants
of the village could scarcely recognise in him the wild boy
who had formerly given them so much trouble. Instead of
prowling about the neighbours' premise, boet on mischief,
he employed himself in useful matters at home, and did
what he could to help his mother in her bard struggle with
poverty. He mended the broken windows, repaired the
fences, removed the litter from the yard, weeded the garden,
and hoed the corn and potatoes that were grown in the
little field. And he went to his work not in across and
surly manner, as he had formerly done whenever he could
be indnced to work at all, bnt willingly and cheerfully as
though it were a pleasure o him. His mother vwas or-
prisd and delighted at the change, and thought that if
going to Sunday-school and to church could effect sch-a
reformation in him, religion must be a very good thing for
poor people as well am for the rich. She felt happier than
she had been for sany a long day; and often, a she stood
in the low door of her rude dwelling, washing her aon at










his work, she would say, while a pleased emile lighted up
her worn features, La now, what a nice, steady boy rrank
is getting to be. Who'm a thought it' I wonder what's
come over him.?
The donkey wondered even more than she did, and would
have epresseed his amazement very decidedly, if e had
only known how. It was a lucky day for him when Mrs.
Morton undertook to plead hi canse. Prank remembered
her kind intercession for poor Neddy, and determined to
follow her advice. Of this he oon ave her a very amusing
proof.
One morning, as Mrs. Morton and her daughter were
sitting in the parlour, the sound of a hoof caught Clar's
ear. Rhaing and going to the window, she exclaimed-
Mother, here's Frank coming down the road, and how
funny be looks Is
Mre, Morton went to the window and looked ont. Frank
was approaching on the back of hia donkey. The anima,
for a donkey, seemed in astonishing spirit. le looked
eleek and comfortable. He capered, and frisked, and
scampered al along if running a race; and all, apparently,
of his own free will A glance solved the mystery. Frank
had fastened to the end of a long pole a tin dish filled with
corn, and was holding it out before the donkey's nose. On
coming opposite the cottage, he stopped, and taking off his
hat and bowing respectfully, said-
ho much obliged to you, Mrs. Morton, and to you, Miss
Clara, for getting me to go to the school t's a fine pace,
and I've felt like trying to be a good boy ever snee rve
been going thee there. Im king you're right too, in what
you said about Neddy. I don't beat him any more, and 1
-bmash-h nice, and give laiplenty to eat, nd hle's got a
active a a deer. See, madam, when I put this before him,
how fast ho goes. I give him a bite now and the, and he
likes Itf' and Prank, suitig the action to the word. thrust
the dish before the donkeys mouth; at which eight Neddy
kicked up his heels, and went souring down the road with
his.mnstar.










Mrs. Morton laughed heartily at Franks novel method of
making hi animal go, and then turning to Clara, sid-
0 Now, my daughter, you Oce what a tranfornation in a
bad boy a little kindness can work. Bo true i it, that
SKindness, like the gentle brodth of spring, melts the icy
heart "
several months passed, during which Frank persevered
in the good course on which he had entered. He had
naturally quick part, end a Mr. Seymour took great pains
in instructing -him, he made rapid proges. e soon
learned to read the Bible with ease, and to give intelligent
answers tohe questions addressed to him by i, ts e her.
A thirst for knowledge sprang up in his mind. He became
very fond of reading, and loved to occmuy his evenings and
other inervals of rest, with the books which he procured
from the Sunday-school library, or suoh as he could borrow
from his friend. These he would often rad aloud to his
mother, as she at plying her knitinneedles or repairing
some arile of clothing. By degree, she became so much
interest di what interested him, and we so rejoiced by
the new mode of life he was leading, that he fond little
difficuty in persnading her to go with him to church, and
to attend reularly upon the instruction which had proved
so bentolanl to himself. And it was a most lovely aeght to
see this once turbulent and refactory boy quietly leading
his mother to the house of the tord; hitting by her side,
with an attentive and reverent countenance, while the
message of divine truth was dispensed; turning round, and
nodding to her, or touchli her arm now and then, when
something was sid that he thought particularly good, or
especially sited to their own ease. Not lesu delighttl
was it to see him on te Babbath evening at home opening
the sredd volume, sad reading to her its words of life;
often Slttopping o tell Ar what Mr. Inwnoe or Mr. ey-
smou had sd said about such a doctrine, or ablt, lot i th
SBriptfoe hiaaror wliat e had leeaed about the birth,
and works, nd' death b Christ; and then, when a chapter
or two had been.finlhed, taking up the Pigrm's Progrpes,









or later's Call, or the Saint's Zest or the Dairyman'
Daughter, and going over their thrilling page. with a
pushed cheek and an earnest utterance; while the poor
woman a an d listened, full of wonder at the new things
she heard. The order of nature was reversed. The child
had become the guide and teacher; the mother the learner,
whom hi lips counelled and his example led.



CHAPTER VIII.
TBB TOUn, TEMPTERS.

Oun friend Frank had much to enoonrag him in the better
way whieh he had chosen. Many hands were extended to
help him; many voices cheered him on. The neighbours
were pleased at his amendment and spoke kindly to him;
and most of his young companions told him they were glad
he was becoming a good boy, and hoped he would go on as
he had begun.
Thhs, however, was not the case with all BSome there
were who laid snares in his path, and endeavoured to draw
him back into his old course. It s one of the penalties of
evil habits, that they bring the siner in contest with wicked
associates, who, when any better feeling prompts him to
reak away from his vices, srive to tighten his cords and
to old him fast The people of Green Hollow and its
vinity were remar le for their sober- and religious
character; and their children were generally well governed,
and brought up in the fear of God. But there were some
exception. A few youths were to be found in the village,
who puorued a profigate career in defisna of public opinion
and parents control, Foremost among them were three
ls, uamed Hugh Thompson, Ben Stiles and Jim Savage.
With these Prank had formerly been vory intimate; bat
aloe his resolution to reform, he had withdrawn him"nlo
and sovglh o shua theSr socia y. They were oet inclined,
D









however, to let him go so uSony, and resolved to make an
effort to regain their influence ovr him.
The fathers of these boys were fanners and near neigh-
bours. On an afternoon early in the ensuing autumn, it so
happened that all three were called from home on busi-
s and loft the lade at work each in a field by himself.
No sooner were their fathers gone, th.n the disobedient
youngsters abandoned the tasks assined them, and got
together, determined on a frolic. Various plans of ani ue-
ment were proposed and rejected, when it was finally st-
tied that tey would go fishing. Sotheyall rt to get their
fishing-tackle, and then went down to the river, and, taking
a boat,.paddled out to the place where they intended to
pursue their sport. While thus engaged, they kept up an
idle conversation whioh wa of no profit to themselves, and
would not be to the reader were we to repeat it. At las
Ben Stiles said abruptly-
SWhat on earth'ss become o' Frank Haynet I haven't
seen him but once or twice for ever so long."
Nor I neither," repfled Jim FSaage, and when I do
cross his track he looked another way, as if he fots too bi
to speak toa feller. I can't think what's the matter with
him."
"Why, don't you know," said Hugh Thompson, "that
Frank's grown steady lately, as they call it 1"
"No I He baon't, though exclaimed the othen.
"Te, h h ha. He's joined the Sunday-school, and read
the Bible; nd when a chap does that, it's easy to ee
wbht'll be the end on't. I met him t'other Sunday walking
with his mother to clhrch, with a Bible and palm book in
his hand, and looking a sober as Deacon lParons himself.
He] t ke to religion, I e'poe, and then maybe they'll
make a minister on him, one oa those days."
SWell, I'm sorry fort, said Jim .* Frank usae to be
one of thU fine hands is he world for a spree; ats t here
ar so few of the boya her6 that are up to any fan, tht I
don't alke to have him leave tna.
don't Jholve he wil"' odt Ben. He's not in










earnest depend on't. Xt' only one o' his tricks, he's tryn'
to make game of the people. Well bring him out on't,
somehow."
SIf we ogld manage to get him into one of hie old
rapess/" aid Jim, "that would do the business for him.
ie wouldn't dare show his fane either at ohuroa or Sunday-
school arter that."
"I've thought ofjust4he plan," sad Hugh. "Yon know
Squire Goodwin who lives in the white house about hal a
mile down the river. Well, he's got the biggest lot o'
melons that-ever you seed They're away on the back
edge of his orn-field, and not in sight of the house at al.
I was along there yesterday, and looked at 'em. They're
just about ripe, and there's o many that the ground's all
covered with 'em. Now, I tell you what boys; I've made
up my mind to have some o' them mtelon. Come, let's go
there to-morrow night carter the folks are all a-bd. We'll
try and persuade Flran to go with Uv. He's terrible fond
o' melons, and can't refuse. And if le joins n1, we'll con-
trive to have him found out some way. He'll e shamed
then to make any more fas about being good, and will be
a wild, rttt ln' fuller aain, as he nsed to be.
n* ura, Oat'e capital shouted the two other boys;
Sthat'll f him, sure as a gn. But who's to udertake the
job? Who'll get him to got"
SWell, perhaps I'd better be the one to ry, answered
Hugh. "Frank and I were once pretty thick, and I guessa
ce come it ovr him yet."
To this tthe them agreed; and the young reprobate
ending the fish had left off biting, and thinking moe of the
fish they wanted to catch on the land than of those they
couldn't cath in the water, drew up their hoolks and went
home.
The next morning, while Fanik was sbsily at work weed-
ing hi mother's little patch of corn, so as to lae the sum
in po the ea rs, that they might ripen the fIster, Bogk
Thompson came mlaunteing down the lane and seeing rznk
in the feld, got over the f e, and went to him.









"l ow are ye, Frank How've ye been this long time"
Frank had no wish for Hugh's society, knowing what a
tiolous fellow he was; but remembering the scriptural
command, Be courteous," he answered civilly-
"I'm very well, I thank you. ow've you been getting
along t
SMerry a cricket. Beut, Frank, it seems o me you're
'maziug industries. What's got into you lately t I've
hardly seen you this summer, You haven't been fishing or
boating with us once. You wasn' t t he last training, and
there' been two or three sprees up on the hill, where they
had lots o' flnt and Ban, and Jim, and I were there, and
we thought you'd be too, but you wasn't. Why oi the
world do you keep yourself so closes
I haven't much time for play. Mother's very unwell,
and needs all I can do; and when I have a little leisure,
1'd rther spend it in reading than in tramping about the
country."
SBut you might have a little port now and then, on
Sunday, as you used to do."
"O no. I've seen that all that was very wrong. I now
go to BSnndy-sohool and chuch, and the res~ of the day I
read the Bible and good books to mother; and I'm a greet
deal happier than I w when I di differently.
"But you'll nope yourself to death, if you go on so.
All work and no play '11 make Jack a dull boy.' Come
now, let's hav e one good froli for the k of old times.
Bome of us fellers are going' to have a real bit o' fun to-
night. There's Squie Goodwin has got a famoeu melon-
patch, i n n out of the way sort o' place, where nobody ca
soe you. Well, vwe'r going' there, and we want you to go
with ms. There's heapa of 'em, more than he knows what
to do with, and he'd give us as many as we liked, if we only
asked him; but that, you know, wouldn't e half so plea-
ent as to take 'om ourselves. It ain't no hzm to pick a
aew melons without leave, when they're so plenty. Every-
body does it and people only laugh at the feller that loe.
'em"











No, I can't o. It wouldn't b right. quire Goodwin
is an honest mau, that does well by all, and is very kind to
the poor. Only last winter, when the enow was so deep
and everything so dear, he sent mother three bushels of
wheat and several bags of potatoes, and a great load of
wood,all out and split for the stove. And do you think r l
be o mean a to go amd steal his melons I No, I'd eooner
never taste one as long s I live, cried Fraink, energeti-
cally. "Ive doe e suh tricks, I know; but I'm anhIamed
enough of'em now. Besid, it's downright stealing, after
all your smoothing it over. It's an mOuh stealing to take a
man's melons without his consent, as it is to take his home
or his cow, and the Bible asys, 'Thou shalt not aeal. I
danm'b do it, and I won'tand you mustn't."
"Mustn't! VId like to know how you're goi' to stop u
Well, I hall be sorry to have to do it, but if you don't
promiee to let this business alone, rl go ao Squire Boodwin
this very day, and toll him what yom'reup to. He'll con-
trive some way to stop you. I geers."
"You willll, will you Now jut you look here, Frnk
You're a mean, tattling coward, and havue't a bit o' pluck
in you. Were goiu to have them melons to-night, and
you, nor all the Squire Goodwin in Green Hollow, shan't
hinder us. But if you dare blab one word about ib to him
or anybody else, we'll give you the be thrashing you ever
had in your life. So you'd better take earem"
Im no coward, Hugh," said Fran, quietly but fianly,
"for I'm not afraid to ao right."
Hugh, turning awayleaped over the fence, and ran up
the lane in great wrath, sbakng his ists, and uttering the
most outrageous threats and imprecations. When he was
out of eight, r ean arrided hie hoe into the houe, and
breaking his hr, and putting on his coat, walked down to
Squle Goodwin's.
h qe qre was a regular old hero, of true, native, nn-
adulterated breed. e was now about sixty-five years of
ae I ale and vigoroe, with a tall and munelaer frmae, on
which the rosta of time seemed to make a little Impression











as the winter snow did on the cliffi of his own mountain d
He had been a soldier, and had fought bravely for his
country on more than one well-foght field. After eace
was declared, he purchased his present farm, then mostly
an uncultivated common, and labored hard to clear his
land, and bring it under cultivation. In process of time, he
married, trained il i-lrlae and promising family of chil-
dren, and, by frugality and industry, became opulent. BHi
intelligence and good charter made him one of the leading
men of the place; and he now held the office of justice of
the peace, and was muck cornuted on local affaira. With
the gravity suitable to hi years there was mingled a sly,
quiet humour, that often showed itself in hi sayings and
doings. He was apt to indulge in hartmles practical jokes;
and when he caught unruly boys committing depredations
on his premises, he would frequently inflict on them some
amusingpuinisbhent which, without hurting, would expose
them to so much ridicule, that they seldom repeated the
offence. And thin he would do in the most good-natured
way imaginable; for there wa not a particle of harshness
or severity in his disposition. He was very open-hearted
and hospitable, had a large house, and appeared to be never
so happy as when he saw his friends and neighbours enr-
rounding his weI-furnlshed table. He delighted o do kind
thing%, such as sending bahketl of early fruit or hre vege-
tables to ho se who were not in a situation procure them;
while to the sick and the needy he wa as a ministering
angel. Everybody loved the squire, and well they might;
for a more frdnk generous old fellow never walked. In
addition to these estimable qualities, and as the crown and
glory of them all, he was a sincere and devoted Christian,
the right hand of his pastor, active in prnyer-mnetang,
prompt and liberal in religions enterprises, always devilsng
good, and always foremost in awcomptishing it. The Sun-
day-sc ho, however was his special favourite; and rarely
did he allow & Sabbath to pass without dropping in to give
a word of encouragement to the teachers, or of counsel to
the scholavr











The require wan at work in his gearde, pulling onions
from their bede, and tying them in strings ready to be hung
up for future ue. He know Frank very well, and had
taken lively interest in his ree fhaeaiour; and as the
latter now approached, he met him with a cordial smile,
and a warm shak of the hand.
U Fm glad to see you, my boy; how are you "
Pretty well, I thank you, sir."
And how goes the school now I Do you i t as well
as evert"
0 yea,, irI like it better and better. I wouldn't leave
it on any account-"
I'm happy to hear you nay so. What did you think of
the ast book I let you, the Pilgrim's Progress, was it
not I"
0, air, it's the most wonderful book--jnst like a pietu
all through. They call it a dream; but I don't think it's a
dream at al. It seems as real as lfe to me. I can eeo al
the places and all the people there, just as plain as if they
were painted. And I can we Christian g ing up to the
Wickeb Oste, and pasingf through it, and then walking on
towards theis et Celetia ity; nd every step he takes, I feel
as if I wanted to go with him. I'm glad he got rid of his
great packm though; it mst have tired hn dreadfully to
have carried that all the way."
"Yes, it is a famous description of the believer's journey
tkom this world of sin to the kingdom of glory-a Journey
which I hope yo will travel, Frank. But what brings you
here to-day I Your mother is not worse than common, is
she I"
a"o; she's about as umnal. rve come, require, on a bnal
enes I don't like at al. Hugh Thompson, Jim Saage, and
Ben Stile, hate agreed to rob your melon-patch tonight;
and they wanted me to be one, bt I rafnaed, and threatened
if they didn't give it up I'd tll yo. They wouldn't listen
to me, and so I thought I ought to lAe you know."
"You've done rght, and I'm much obliged to you. Ah
they're sad fellows. I've tled to them often, and tried all











I could to persuade themto mend their ways; but they
only laugh, and get more headstrong every day. So they
meoa to steal my water-melon, do thlyl I don't think they
will. You see, Frank, it isn't the melons I care for; there's
enough of 'em, and they might have as many as they can
carry for the asking. But after I've worked hard to raise
the fruit, I don't like to lse the pleasure of giving it away,
if I've a ind to do so. And worse than that, if I let these
chaps steal my melons, they'd grow bolder by success, and
steel something of more value; and then my neglect will
help them on to ruin. I won't ave it so; they shan't do
it; I'll fix 'eam* said the old man, throwing his huge arms
about, and pretending to look very blustering, while a sly
twinkle crept into the corner of his blue eyes, as if some
comical thought had just oroaaed hi m-din
a tou won't hurt 'em, will you 9" inquired Frank.
No; I never hurt anything if can help it. But PI'
give 'em such a taste of water-meloe, that the very nmne
shall make them'feel siok ao long as they live."
Frank knew, from the expreslo o0 the sqire's ow%, that
some very queer chasiseent wee in store for the plunderers
aud he would have liikt much to stay and see the fun, only
he thought it wouldn't do, As hbe ws turning to leave, the
squire sad to him- -
"Well, y boy, seeing you have taken the trouble to
come and tel me this, go out into the patch and pick your-
self the biggest melon yon can nd
- I thank you, r, but lfjs oi-lase d rather not."
What's the reason I thought7ou loved melons."
"So I do very much; but I wouldn't lke you bo give me.
I don't want 'em to say you paid me for telling."
"Whew I You're getting very nice idea there at the
Sunday-shoool, I see. Mtybe you'e right, though. But
you con take a hbaket of apples to yonr mother 1"
No, I think better not, now. Some other time I
will, and thank you kindly. Good day, squire."
SGood-by, Frank. There's more i5 you tha I supposed,
though rF, begun to have pretty strong hopes of you.











You have shown a high ense of integrity ad honour, and
If you go on in this way, you'l make a fir t-erte uan when
you grow up."



CHAPTER IX.

TaR MeLOX-PATCH.

DuRaN the day, the acquire kept busily at his occupation,
without saying anything of what he had heord, or of what
ho intended to do. He appeared grave and serous as wusul,
exept that occasionally he would rub his chin with his
hand as if thinking; and then an odd kind of twitching
motion would go Qver his faco, ad puhker up th1e covers
of his mouth, and pull at his eyelids till they were half
shut. Whether it was the pungent odour of the onions tht
disturbed his organa, or whether certain ludicrous fancies
that had got into hi head, were thus peeping out at the
windows, our young readers cn guese as well as we.
The old gentleman had two eons living at home with him,
broad-shoulddled, long-legged, stont, hardy boy, standing
more than ex feet each in ha stockings. Their names were
John and William When the young men came in from
the field in the evening the father called them out after
supper to the lawn in front of the house, and told them of
the meditated invasion, ad of the manner in which he pur-
posed to receive the foe. All three seemed amazingly
tikled. The father chuckled, and poledh fagers into the
nbs first of the one son and then of the other; and the sons
haw-hawed, and shook their vast Ifames, and twisted their
broad, good-natured countensnces into all sorts of merry
contortion. WRhen their mirth had a little subelded, they
sot about their preparations. Abright fire was built in the
Idtohen, and a table spread aot covered with large quan-
tity of melons, nio6y out into soes, of which they all par-
took besartly and then the require sprinkled profisely a











solution of tartar-eme n the reminder. Then three
enormous gnns were mruiaged out and brought down frm
the garret. The patriarh of the lot was an old military
musket, of immense size and weight, which the squire had
borne in his youthful campaigns, and whose huge mouth
had blazed and roared ovar many a battle-field. The others
were ducking gens, with long harrela and wide bores. These
the young men loaded with powder only, making the charge
as heavy as the saout tubes would bear, and ramming it
down smartly to increase the report. These arrangements
completed, the squire ordered his wife and daughters to
keep up the fioe, and then, calling Pompey, a mastiff of
monotmrone bulk and power, he and his sons shouldered their
muskets, and departed for the Boone of action.
The melon-patch, ra Hugh had said, lay at some distance
from the house, nd was concealed from it by rising ground,
and an interrveing corn-fild. It was situated at the far-
ther end of this field; and on t three sides of it, the tJl stalks
of the maize shot up thick and bushy, and completely hid
itfrom view. On the other side ran a deep ditch, which hadi
been dug for the purpose ofdraining the low land adjoini
and which, as heavy rain had lately fallen,was now nearly
filled with muddy water. At the outer edge of the field,
this ditch was e ossed by a narrow foot-bridge leading Into
a pastue, and a strip of woods beyond.
Such was the spot destined to become memorable by the
exploit of the squire. Arrived on the ground, he posted
his forces very judiciously. John he placed on the side
next to the bridge; on the opposite side he stationed Wil
liam ; while he and Ponipey took up their position on th
side nearest to the hoae. erae screeened by the high corn,
they' lay in ambush waiting the approach of the enemy.
Meanwhile Hugh and Is party, stealing away from their
homes as soon as the dusk of evening iad spread lt obsoucr-
ng veil, met at the outskirts of the village, and et forth
on their expedition. They che a eiroitous route that led
them t of eight of any dwellings, and by ,hch theny would
come in at the back of the sq re' frm, and pas through












the woodland and posture,reach the scene of teir intended
plunder. A they were walking long, Jim suddenly in-
quired-
"Why, where's Frak' Isn't he with usn"
"No', answered Hugh; "the chicken-hoarted feller
wouldn't come. And he talked big too, and preached me
quite a sermon about teaming, and al that, ha I he[r h
and said if we didn't promise to stay away he'd tell the
require. But he'l not do that; he knows we'd thrash him;
and he's a great coward, as all these Sunday-school boys
are."
-I don't know; Prank's pretty resolute, when he's
roused."
Well, I don't care if he does tell. I'm not afesred of
the qusire, nor of his big sons and his big dog neither
I'll have some water-melons to-night, i they're all there to
stop me."
Soon they emerged from the woods, and came out into the
upper part of the pasture from which the squire' house
could be seen.
t Look, boys," cried Ben. What a light there is in the
Bqniro's window. I wonder what makes his folkr stay up
so late to-night '
"Maybe Frank's told 'em," said Jim, "and they're
watching for us. Let's go back, and try it some other
time."
"Pshawl" exclaimed Hugh, inmpatently, "I thought
you'd more epunk, Jim. What if they be npt They can't
see us from the hoe." -
So they kept on through the pasture, and crossing the
little' bridge, crept cautiously to the melon-patch. In
passing the strip of corn in which John was posted, they
came so near his hiding-place, that he thought they wonld
certainly discover hi ; nt they did not. Having reached
the vine they got down o ti cAr hand and knees, an
began to feel about among the melonsand to thump teem
with their fingers in order to selet, as well a they could
in the d&rk the largest and Speat











0, here's a whopper cried Ben. "It's as big as a
pumpkin, and it's real ripe too, I know, 'cause it rings so
dull. can't carry more than two such fellers as this."
At that moment, Pompey, whom hs master had restrained
with the itmon difficulty ever since the intruders made
their appearance, uttered a low growl, and rattled the corn-
leaves with his taiL The boys sprang to their feet.
SWhat's that said Jim and Ben, in a suppressed whis-
per, and shaking all over-
"O, it's only the wind, or maybe one of the squire's
hogs that's got into the corn-feld," rephed Hugh, in the
same stifled tone, striving to keep up his courage, but find-
ing it fast oozing away-
An instant of silence followed, when the squire, who Lad
fought with Indians in his youth, and ad learned to imitate
their yell, gave a tremendous war-whoop, and thundered
out
I Thieves I Thieves r ire, John I Bhoot 'em, Bill I
seize 'em, Pompey I"
Whiz---zWhang I went the old musket, fasing at the
pan, and then going off with a nose like a cannon, and
belching out fire and mnoke enough to do credit to a small
volcano. Bang bang! went the quicker and sharper reports
of the newer pieces. Bowl wow wow I roared Pompey,
mapping his teeth, and tearing through the corn like a
whirlwind.
1 0. I'm killed! I'm Idlled I" creamed Jim, falling flat on
his face, thetheres thra bullet and ever so ny buck shot
gone right through me!' And there he ly, bellowing like
a calf, till Pompey s y seized h by he back, tor hi coat,
and covered him all over wEit froth from his great month,
and might have done him some miaehief, had not the squire
come up, anfic-ade the boy his prisoner.
Thinking in his terror only of the shorteat way of escape
Ben ran straight towards the ditch, forgetting it was there ;
and the first he knew of it was when he plumped into it up
to his neok in mud and water. Here he puffed, and onn-
dored, and tried hard to gain the opposite side, his foot









stioling in the soft bottom, and sinking deeper every
minute; when William saw htm, and shouted, with a loud
laugh-
A water-rat a waterrat I Here, Pompey, here i"
The dog plunged in, and seizing the struggling lad by the
hair, pulled him so near the bank, that Willam got hold of
him and dragged him an dry land; whore he lay dripping
th me iverwith h ivericold, and looking a forlorn an a
half-drowned ptppy.
Elgh, though nearly as much frihtened as the others,
had rather more prevent of mind, and, therefore, made at
once for the bridge. John nearly caught him as he passed
but he managed to alip by, and to get over the bridge, and
into the pasture, with John after him. Hugh was a lithe,
vigorous lad, and light of foot as an antelope; and fear
now lent him speed. But he might as well hve tried to
run from the man in the seven league boots as from the
long lege of John. On came the young giant, swinging his
great arms like the Bihafc of a windmill, and striding over
the ground like an avalanche. Hugh saw and heard him ;
he heard the sound of those tremendous leaps coming
nearer and nearer; he strained every muscle to its utmost
tension; his breath grew shor and thick; his heart beat
like a hammer; a little farther, and the wood wil be
reached-but in vain: a heavy hand is on his shoulder,
and a voice, half choked with laughter and running, says
in his ear-
"Why, Hugh, you're a smart one; but you're caught at
last; and you're not the first roge I've caught, neither."
"Is that you, Jahn" said Hugh, wriggling and striving
to twiet himself from the strong grasp that held him. 0
let me go; Ill not come here any more/'
"I don't think you will; but I've not done with you yet.
Father wanted you all brought up to the house, and we
always obey father." And lifting Hugh as if he had been
an infant, he bore him bak to the melon-patch.
The enemy were now all captured, and the squire and
his sons, collecting their prisoners, le them towards the









house, Pompey marching behind, and sDffing at their legs
as if he meant to bit them. Having arrived there, te
squire compelled the lado to go in, and placing chairs,
invited them to be seated, observing that they must be
tied after their long walk.l Mm. Goodwin and her daugh-
ters also spoke pleasantly to them, and asked them where
they hod b eed been nd why they were out o late, and whether
they wouldn't come nearer the re. The boys were greatly
perplexed to know what was going to be done with them,
and would much rather have declined all civilities; but a
they were completely n th power the power of their pt, they
thought it beat to comply. After they had been sated
a while, the old gentleman sid-
SYou see, yonngaters we rather eupected Soine of our
friends might oall on us to-night, and would like a few
melons; so we thought we would have some all cut and
ready for them. Come, draw upp and eat us much as you
please- We won't take any, aa we htd them at supper."
The involuntary visitors begged hard to be excused.
Tey mae rt objection hey made all o did not wibh any.
They had plenty at home. But as the squire persiatod,
they dared nob refuse- They looked round at the great
guns, and the great dog, and the two great young men;
and would have eaten their own fingers if they had been
told to do so. They, therefore, gathered round the table,
and began to partake of the fruit. After the first tte, they
hesitated, and glanced oddly at each other. But the squire
did the honours so courteously, and urged them to help
themselves with a manner Bs cordial, and yet so imperative,
that they went on swallowing the pieces of melon, till they
could hold no more. Then the squire, releasing them,
said-
Now, boys, you may go lsome; if you want any melone
again, let me know, and rni have more ready for you.'
On mhaching the road, te boys ran a fast as they could,
till they were almost out of breath. then, getting a little
over their fight, they slackened their pae, and began to
rave in no measured term. Their spite as espeall









directed against Frank, and they made many threats of
what they would do to him.
"I know he told on us said Hugh, "and I'll pay him
fort; see if I don't. What re you lagging behind there
for, Ben Why don't you keep up "
"I-1-don't feel well. I'm klnd o' eicklhb, somehow."
"Pooh I t's your ducking; you haven't gT oer ti
yet."
And I'm sick too," said Jim.
STYou I no wonder-you were so scared."
And wasn't you seared I I thought you looked like
ito
"Me 1 To, only a little surprised, that's all."
They walked on for a time, moving lower and slower
Hugh remaining silent, and seeming very downcast. At
length he spoke.
I tell you what, boys, I believe we're poisoned; the old
feller has put something' into them melons; I thought they
tetbed queer."
0 dear 1 0 dear r" cried the others, "let's ran to the
doctor's."
But they were too ill to run. They lay down upon the
grass by tle rowawde, a good deal ack, nd terribly
frightened. They supposed they wre .going to die; and,
lie most sinners when arrested by the prospect of sudden
death, they were greatly alarmed in view of their pst
conduct and made many p may pr s to lead better live
should they recover-promiss, alas, how oftep mrde, but
how seldom kept I After a while, the distressng gause
passed away in part, and they rose from the ground and
went home feeling very weak, mean, and diseointed.












CoAPTER X.

TME ASSAULT.

ON the next Sabbath morning, a frnk was walking quietly
to the Sunday-school, Hugh and his comrades sprang over
the fencee nto the lane, and encountered him. Their fright
had done them little good. Their shame and remove had
anbsided, and given place to a feeling of intense male,
which they were determined to wrek on him who hd been
the means of defeating their wicked design, and exposing
them to mortifiation. With this view they had met since
their return fom the squire's, and concerted a plan by
which they hoped to gratify their spite; and it was to carry
out this plan that they had now waylaid and intercepted
frank where they knew they would at that hour be are to
find him. Approaching with clenched fise, Hugh thus
accoBted him-
So you told the squire, did you?
SYes, said I should, End I moean what I said."
WeIl, and I told you we'd lick you if you did, and now
we've come to do it."
SYou have no cause to be angry with me; I have done
you no wrong. I tried all I could to persuade you to give
up your social purpose, and when you wouldn't be per-
suaded, I took the course I thought right to prevent your
acting it out. I kept you from doing a wicked thing, though
I couldn't keep you from attempting it."
But don't you know you got us into a play scrape, and
that everybody's laughing at us?"
I did not get you into a s rpe; you got youselves into
it. If you had listened to me, yeo wouldn't have been
there at all, and nobody would have laughed. So don't
charge me with the consequences ofyonr own fault."
," t' no nse talking. You told the old chap, and he laid











a e trap for us, you may be sore. Be, and them ever-
laLing big boys o his, and that monster of a dog he keeps,
got into the cor, and yelled at us like avage Injins and
blamed at us with their guns, and might have hit us too, if
it hadn't been so dark Then they sketched us and dragged
us up to tohe house, and made us eat such a mes1 ugh I it's
made e eick tho ink o' melons ever since And its all
along o' your telling. So, off with your coat, and we'll soon
see which is the best mao."
Frank could hardly help amiling at this description of the
equire's performances, but knowing i6 would only excite his
Bailan ts t mohe ore hecommanded hi cotenane well
as he could, and answered-
SThat you might be too much for me is very possible, as
you are three to one. But I shal not fight. I won't disturb
the quiet of the Sabbath by naming rawl And it
is sinful to do it at any time; for the Saviour ham said,
' Resis t t evil.'"
It may surprise the reader that Frank should have been
capable of feeling such sentiments, and of expressing them
in auch language considering his former character, and the
short time since he had been the ebj et of better influences.
It is true, he had not yet experienced that great spiritual
change which alone makes us the children of God, and
brings the affections and conduct into real and thorough
submission to the law of his grace. But, even before the
heart is renewed, the principles of the gospel sometimes
become so imbedded in the mind as greatly to modify its
modes of thinking, Thus was it with'our young fried.
Of a plas ti and impresslble nature when once his interest
was awakened, he had yielded himself eagerly to religions
instruction; and that instrction had rapidly improved his
knowledge, recited his judgment, and enlightened his
conscience, so that he clearly saw what was right and was
resolved to adhere to it. And of this process we think h
history by no mean a solitary example.
His answer made Hugh more angry than before.
"Whati" h e mlaimedin "sfry, "You won't Sght! Y o










play a fellor a mean trick, and then refuse to Stand up to
him like a man I I always thought you a toward, and now
I now you're one."
"It isn't beuse I'm afraidof you. I fear God. Hoe ha
commanded us to honour hi holy day ; ad he has forbid-
den es to get angryt ry, nd et nd injure ech other."
"Well, we're going tothrmall you, whether you'll ght or
not."
a You can strike me if you Hke, but I won't strike baek.
I can't help your doing wrong, but 1 try not to do wrong
myself."
So saying he walked on. Tue others were so much nur-
prd at hise conduct, that they allowed him to peas without
any attempt to molest him. But when he had gone a few
steps and t hey w that he was likely to- escape them, their
rage became eingovernable. They ran after him, hooting,
and calling him all the opprobriou names they cold think
of. They pelted him with dirt and mud. Several stones
were thrown, one of which struck him on the back of the
head, and laid open the flesh, so that his hair was matted
with blood. Poor Frank wa, sorely tempted. The smart
of his wound, and the eight of his clothes, his Sunday suit
too, all bespattered with filth, were very hard to bear. In-
dignation boiled within him. More than once he was on
the point of tuning fierely round, and paying his persecu-
tore in their own coin. But then the thought of how sorry
his teacher would be to know he had allowed himself to be
drawn into a fight, and how grieved Mrs. Morton and Clar
would be to hear it, and,bove all, rwhat a gret g in he
should commit against God, would cross his mind and choke
down hie Swelling passion.
His tonnormenr at length grew tired and left him to hlnx-
self. He reached the school in a. -d plight, his dress
sa aned and disordered, his face red and swollen with
weeping, and the blood oozing from the wound in hi. head,
and dripping down upon his collar. Great Bsrpriae nd
concern were expressed at hi appearance. At the request
of his teacher, he related what had happened, wit the sir-











uenmtances which led to it. AD manifested the liveliet
sympathy. Clara went ap t iitm, and spoke to him sooth-
ingly, told him how muchA she pitied him, how much Bhe
was grieved for him, and yet how glad she was that he had
been able to command himself, and refrain from retaliating.
He was a noble follow, she aid, and she was proud of him.
The pain he now offered woid-last-but a hnttol while, and
then he would have always the pleasure of remembering
that he had done right. Soft and healing fell her words on
the lacerated heart of the young martyr. They calmed his
irritated feelings, made him les sensitive to the outrage he
had reooived, ad seemed to wipe away all its shame. e
became more collect ; and by the time that his lassenates
had bandaged hie hurt, nd istaaed him to remove, as far
as possible, the stains from His garments he was prepared
to engage in the duties of the hour with almos~ his usual
composure.
Mubh wae said that morning, both in the school and in
the church, that Frank thought appropriate to himself, and
ftted to strengthen and comfort him. But when the service
was concluded, Mr. Seymour, hinduig it po sible that Hngh
and his co mpamons might attack hima a a d, d wishiDg
for an opportunity to oonverse more particularly with him,
offered to attend him ho e. After they had got into the
lane, where they could no longer be overheard by the
people returning from hurch, hb thu began-
o, my dear boy, you had rbther a severe trial this
morning, had you not I"
"Yes sir, they eued me pretty baL."
Do you not regret that you informed the sunire of their
intentEon,.sinoe it has exposed you to so much mfadering I"
"No, air; I am orry they were o angry, but I am not
sorry for what] did, because I think I ought to have done
so."
Yes, you 1did eight. When we know that any one
designs to injure another, and we cannot induce him to
relinquish the-attemtp it i early our duty to inform the
perat against whom the rong Is intended, nd to put hiss











on his guard. Otherwise, we should become, by our silence,
partakers in the crime Bft how did you feel while they
were treating you so cruelly I"
"For a time I felt very angry, and wanted to throw
stones at them as they did at me; and once or twice I
stooped down, and almost got hold of one."
"That was wrong. There is no sin in being sensible of
abuse, or in feeling aggrieved when w e or subjected to it;
but to desire to injure others because they Injure us, is
contrary to the spirit of the gospel; it is rendering evil for
evil, and is an intraion upon the prerogative of God, who
has said, 'Vengeance is mine; I will repay? "
Yes, I knew it was wrong), and I tried to chok it, and
at last succeeded ; but it was hard work."
"It i1 often hard work for us to do what Christ com-
mands; not, however, because his commands are hard in
themselves, for his 'yoke is easy and his burden is light;'
but we ae naturally so depraved, and so full of pride and
self-will, that anything which confiots with these cherished
passions must necessarily cost us a severe struggle. The
difficult lies in the corruption of our heart, and it is a
difficulty which divine grace only can overcome."
To this remark Frank did not imnmediately reply. He
had obtained sufficient knowledge of religious truth to for
correct views of what it taught in reference to external
conduct, but h h ahd not yet learned "the plague of his own
heart." He believed, indeed, that "the heart was deceitful
above all things and desperately wicked," becaua the Bible
said so i but his opinion on this subject was a theory only,
and not that experimental, vital eonse of it, which the Holy
Spirit prodoues when it convinces of sin. At length ho
said-
I know that we ought not to resent affront, because
tho Scriptures forbid it. The Saviour has sid, Whosoever
shall mite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other
also. Buat I do not quite understinit."
"Perhaps not, and persons older and more experience
thin yourself Iave been equally in the dark. Thera m4










probably few commands of our Lord agtaina which more
objection has been felt. This crises in part from the per-
verted meaning which has been given to the precept itself.
Many have understood it as implying thba we are not only
to suffer injuries patiently, but even to court their repeti-
tion. But the command was not intended to be so minutely
and literally applied, It simply la down the general
principle, that we are to bear wrong treatment with a mild
and unrevengeful spirit. It does not teach that we may not
guard against receiving sucn treatment, Nor does it forbid
us to defend our lives and property, when aseailed under
circumstances in which human laws are unable to protect
us. Most -persons, thus straining and distorting the re-
quirmeeno look uon it as unreasonable, and as impossible
to be obeyed in the present state of society. But thp chif
cause of thte opposition which it has called forth, is to be
found in the prevailing ideas and feelnge of men. They
think it noble to be vindictive; mean-epirited and cowardly
not to avenge an insult; and the unsanctified heart, inflamed
with such passlon, views with extreme repugnance a rule
of action which enjoins good for evil, blessing for cursing."
*Why did Christ teach ua to do hlel"
"Because such conduct is demanded by the very nature
of the gospel which brings to us peae and good-will from
God, and requires us to imitate him in exerciing the same
disposition towards our fellow-men. The course which it
precriee is also the w alod seafee for ourselves. The
instanoes are very rare in which an individual would be
attached when it was lnown that he would not retaliate.
And in the few ones like your own, wheat the unresisting
are assailed, the advantage is still on the side of foreer-
ance. Do you not think that you would have been more
injured this morning, if you had undertaken to repel vio-
lence by violence 1"
SI uppone I should.
SAnd there is another view of the matter yet morn im-
portant. You would hare placed yourself on the came
Iaond level with your aailants, and have last the power










of exerting any good influence over them hereafter, should
Providence give you the opportunity. Now you stand on
ovry different ground, ad Iaro ,pquir ad he ure a periorty e
them which they themselves mst acknowledge. It is thu
by meekly enduring wrong that we conquer the wrong-
doer. 'e that i allow to anger Si better than the mighty;
and he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh & city. Do
you feel that you should be willing to do these wicked lads
a kind service, should an occasion offers"
SI did nob thie morning, but I do now."
Well, it may be that God has allowed you -to-meet wit
this cruel perfection, in order to make you the means of
good to its author ; and if so, I am sure you will acquiece
in the ordering of~Hi will who can cane even the wrath of
man to praise Him."
By this time they had reached the door of Trank's dwell-
ing, and Mr. Seymour, bidding him an affectionate adieu
returned to his own home.




CHAPTER XI.

LOST IN THE MOUNTAfIN

WHae Hugi and his a ociatoe had left Frank in the late,
after their cowardly asault upon him, they wmadored about
the elds, discontented and restless. True, they had vented
their rage mo the poor boy who had dared to expose their
mnischievoue purpose; but this did not afford them the
satisfaction theyeeehey xpeted. y felt or uncomfortable
than before. They could not stifle the unwelcome con-
aciousnese that they had done a very mean thing, and that
Frank, in refusing to fight, had shown mor true courage
than they had in attacking him. The thought of the dna-
tardly lght in which they would appear when the transao-
tion should become known, annoyed them. Their former










adventure had got wind, very little to their credit; and thio,
they werere are, wond add indignation to ridicule. What
to do with themselves was now the question. They did
not like to loiter around the village, where they would be
exposed to the observation of people going to church or
returning from it; for a feeling of guilt and shame made
them wish to shun every eye.
As it was yet early in the day, they f i ly decided to
execute a design. which they had long entertained, of pay-
ing a visit to a emall lake, or pond, stated a few miles
distant among the mountains. The waters of this lake,
formed by numerous springs gushing out from the rocky
sides of the hills around, ar very sweet and clear, and
furnish in their cool depths a favourite haunt for the
speckled trout which at certain periods are caught there
in large numbers. It being now the middle of September,
when the fis% are m ost readily obtained the boys deemed
the moment a propitious oe. That it was the Sabbath
gave them little concern; and they had been eed to having
their own way so long, that they did not mind going with-
out the const o ent of their parent. Hurrying k to their
homes, they collected the implements they needed, and*
wrapping up such provisions a they could conveniently
find, managed to nmak their way out of the little steet,
without attracting the nodce of any one, their parent and
most of the inhabitants having gone to church.
When they had left the village behind them, they pro-
ceeded for a time in silence, or echanging only here and
there a word. Each seemed to hWe something on his mind
which he could not banish, but of which he was reluctant
to speak. After a while, with evident hesitation, and a shy
look round at the others, Ben sid
I wish we had not done wat we did this morning. I
can't leave off thinking about it"
SNor I either," replied Jim; "it's kind o' haunted me ever
sine. It eem to me a if I could see Frmak now eust as
he looked when we aet upon him, and how be put his hand
to his head whn the great atone hit him. ad how he tried










not to cry, though it mnit have hurt him very much. 0,
ram sorry we did it, and we shouldn't, either, if Hugh
hadn't urged us on
"Yes, that'sjust the way with you," said Hugh, "always
laying everything on my shoulder You were as erce as
I was then; but now, because you feel a little squeanmsh
after it's done, you want to throw all the blame on me."
Polk will talk vey hard about us, whon they come to
know it, won't they I1 asked Jim.
"I suppose they will; but I don't care if they do. We
san't hear them to-day at any ate ; so say no more about
it," answered Hugh grufly, and in a tone and manner that
showed very clearly how distasteful the conversation rwa
to hib.
They were now drawing near the mountins. mad the path
became steep and broken. They climbed one rugged ascent
after another and crossed any a rude bridge, beneath
which wild streaNm from the hills leaped and tumbled in
akes of tglttering foam. The sky, whAih had been clear in
the morning, was beginning to be overa huge banks of
clouded were rapidly gathering in the horion ; and the
rising wind moaned warningly among the tree-top, nd
roared in hoare munmurs up the glens. Bnt notwith-
standing these eigns of an approaching storm, our young
adventurers pressed on. hey reached at length the last
piece of cultivated land that lay in their wy, before enter-
ing the rough and unceared region surrounding the lake.
Calling at the flm-house, they aksed for a glasa of milk.
The owner had gone down to the village to attend churc ;
but his wife was at home, having been detained by the 1il-
ness of a child. She recogised them at once, and after
complying with their request, inquired, in a tone of con-
siderable surprie-
0 Why, boys, what in the world are you doing up here
today" -
SWe're going to th to la fis Ms. Barton/, awered
Hugh.
0 But don't you know it's the Sabbath '









0, we don't care for that"'
SY ou ought to cre. Xt's very sinful, and yo had bettor
go back at noe. Besides, don't you see there's a storm
coming on I The wind's been getting higher for ome time ;
and a great cloud ha been hanging ll the morning on the
top of the hill, and now it's creeping down his idee. When
he puts his cap on in that fashion, we always know what to
expect. We shall hare one of our iatumn tempest cer-
tainly; i's about the time of the year for them ; and they
are often very long and violent up here."
Over mind; were not afraid of a little rain."
"But it is dangerous for you to go to the lake in auch
weather. here's no road, you lnow; and the course you
must follow is so blind, and the woods are so deep and
tangled, and so full of winding ravines and precipices, that
if a storm should come on, you'll be snr to get loat, or
tumble into a gul, or be crushed by a falling tree"
Get loebt hi hal has that's a good one I Three boys
like un, with eyes in their head, getting lost among the
mountains I Wouidn't that be something to tell of 1
But of what use would your eyes be, if it was so thick
and foggy that you could not see ten rods before your"
"Why, if we couldn't see, we'd feel ; we'd fnd our way
out somehow, you may bo certain,"
SWUll, if you will go, do not stay too late; and if when
-yon geo back ere, you find you cannot reach home before
night, come ix and lodge with us. My husband will have
returned by that time and though he will be very cory to
hear how you have been pending the Sabeath, yet he'll
maeo you welcome to anch fare as we an give you."
Thank you, well do so should it be necessary. At all
haven't, we'll call as we pags and let you now we haven't got
lost:"
Turning away fom the kind womnm, and disrgarding
her iendly admonitions, the rash yontlh went forward.
The slight iro ad hih hadguided them thus fa, teinated
here; and climbing a fence, and crossing a Mall strip of
stubble ground, they plunged at once into the trinkless










forest. Entering a narrow goge between the hblla, and
picking their way up among rocks, and gullies, and thickets
of underbrnsh,ey toie they tole towards thlae, and reached
it at last, nearly exhausted with their long tramp, and the
diffi ltiee they had encountered. To a mind prepared to
feel the wonder of creation, and to trace in them the ohnd
of their glorious Author, the scene that burst on their view
must have been strikingly grand and impressive. The lake
lay enireled in A setting of mountains, that guarded it like
sentinels on every hand. From its eastern shore, the stern
monarch of the group, called Cameles Rump, rose bold and
sheer, his bald hed and jagged sides now covered with a
dense mist, rolling and billowy as on angry sea. On the
north, west, and south, less elevated heights shot up, broken
into many separate cones by intersecting ravines. Within
this rugged belt slumbered the deep waters, looking dark
and unfathomable beneath the shadows of the low descend-
ing cloada, and of the overhanging cliffs.
Hugh and his companions having rested a while, and
recruited their strength with a lunch, betook themselves
eagerly to their sport. Seeking such spotp on the bank as
were clear of bushes, or walking out on protruding loga
where they could handle their rods more freely, they cast
their lines among the finny inhabitants. Each had soon
quite a string of the shining captives. Elated by their
Success they entirely forgot how fas the houre went by,
and heeded not the threatening aspect of the heavens.
Ehus they continued till near sunet. In the meantiUme,
the omens of he storm had become more distiont and fear-
ful. The clouds that had at first skurrned across the sky in
detached and flying squadron, were now gathered into one
solid mosa, overspreading the horizon. The vapours hung
low down the bases of the mountains; a nduky hue crept
over the e lad the tall pines rocked in the Insreasig gale;
and the tfet drops of the tempest fell pattering on the
faded leaves and the rippling waters.
Startled by th he sod, he fiaher looked up, a nd were
astonished to ind how dark it had grown, and that the








1.osT 14 Tt ROwWoTAI, 75
storm had actually commenced. Calling hatily to each
other, they collected their spoils and started to return.
flut in their hurry and confusion, they entered a different
ravine from that by which they caie, and one that, instead
of leading to the settlements, wontd far away into the
depths of the wildernmee. Misled by the deepening gloom,
they perceived not their error, and preeod forward as fast
as the feeble light and the nature of the ground would per-
mit. The rain now descended in torrent and night net in,
rendered still more intense by a thick fog- On they groped
amid the darmnees, drenched to the skin, scratching them-
selves with bushes and bramblen, floundering through
swamps, wading brooks, and falling over roots nd stones.
At last, completely wearied out, they stopped, and won-
dered why they yet saw no sigen of the open land. After
taking breath a little, they again set forward, and continued
the struggle forhours, till their sinking frames could endure
it no longer. They were then forced to admit that they
must have taken a false course. How they had done so,
they could not tell. Nor were they able to form any aon-
jecture as to where they were, or in what direction to trn
to retrieve their mistake; and they feared to make the
attempt, knowing that in their uncertainty they would be
as likely to go wrong a right. The rain still poured down
with unabated ary, and swollen streams began to rush
along the bottoms of the deep gorges- It become highly
dangerous' to proceed, lest they should be swept away by
the rising oode, or be precipitated down some yawning
chasm.
In this extremity, they perceived a large rock so placed
as to aford them a partial shelter from the sterm. They
crawled under it and tly down, exhausted y fatigue and
paralyzed with tenron. Their situation would have been
much alleviated, could they have indled a fire. They
might then have dried their wet clothes, and cooked ther-
solves a warm supper from the fish they had cnght. ut
as they had no means of doing this, they appeased their
singer as well a they could with the remains of tleir










noon-day and then, d then hddling as closely together a
possible, stretched their shitering limbs on the damp, cold
earth.
Long and dinsml was the night The chill air and the
drenching rain made them too nncomfortasbe to sleep; and
as they lay and listened to the wild sounds of the forest ,
sensation of mortal dread came over them. In every roar
of the tempest, they heard, as they imagined, the howl of
some beast of prey coming to destroy them. The creaking
and groaning of the trees as they swayed to and fro in the
bLIst; the rendingand crashing, as one here and there fell
headlong to the earth; and the noise of torrnas chafing and
foaming through the rocky glen-kept their fancy busy
with dangers all the more terrible beenase unknown
The morning broke at length, and they rose, hoping that
now they should be able to find their way. They ascended
a high hill, to see if they could discover the village, and
learn how to shape their course. But the storm was yet
raging, and the heavy mista obsomred the whole prospect.
They saw nothing but a wilderness of mountains, over whi
rolled a me of fog. Disappointed in their search, they
descended, resolved to push on till they should reach some
outlet, and thinking that progress in any direction was
better than standing stilL But they were utterly beil-
dered. How far they had wandered. or towards what point,
they knew not. As no sun was to be seen and there were
no landmarks with which they were acquainted, they had
only their own contfued foulties to guide them. Striking
into a dark, rugged glen, which, from the make of the
ground, they judged might eondnob them to the open
oonttry, they determined to follow it little suspecting that,
like the one they had followed the night before, it led the
wrong way, and would bring them to no human dwelling,
until they had gone entirely round the principal mountain,
and reached the settlements on its eastern lope. Ignorant
of this, they wandered on, weary and frightened, changing
their course when afraid to putre it any longer, climbing
over rugged steeps from valley to valley, and often, fro











the numerous burning among the hills, going about almost
in a circle, while they thought theoselves moving- in a
straight line. As the day advanced, their hunger becam
pain l. The provisions which they had brought with them
were all onsunmed; and as their fish, without any means of
cooking them, would hare beei only an en nmbrance, they
had left them behind. They fond a few roots and berries;
but these could give only a light relief. Daylight once
more departed, and abandoned them to the terrors of n-
other night in the mountains And here we too mue leave
them, while we relate what measures were in progreo for
their rescue.



CHAPTER XIL

TUBE SEACH-

ON the Babbath evening, the parents of these youths fist
learned their absenoe- Thongh displeased, they felt no
serious concern, as they supposed they would be in before
bed-time. HBt as the night wore on, and they did not make
their appearance, they began to be very anxious- In the
morning, they sent round to all the neighbours to make
inquiries concerning them; but no one could give them any
information. The storm being yet at its height, they en-
deavoured to comfort themselves by thinking that the
missing lads had been detained at some distant fanr-houie,
and were waiting for it to subside before they returned.
To cling to this hope was all they could do for they wore
utterly at a lose to unow whither they had gone, or where
to look for them.
In-the afternoon, however, %Mr. Barton name down from
his place onge g the ills. is wife had informed him of
the visit of the boy, and of their having started for the
lake ; and as no one had seen them pass on their way back,
his apprehensions were wakened, and ie bad ridden all











the way through the rain to certain whether they had
returned. i ia statement filled the little hamlet with the
utmost alarm. It was evident that they had been overtaken
by the storm, and had leot their way in the dark labyrinth
of the mountain, where, unless help could reach them.
they must inevitably perish with hunger. The news spread
rapidly, and soon a group of men collected to devise means
for their rescue. Some were for setting out at once but as
it was now late, and a night search through the mountains
would be usele sit was decided by the larger and more
judicious portion to defer the undortaking natil the follow-
ing day. In order to ensure sumces, it was deemed requi-
site that there should be a sufcient number to scour the
remotest corners to which it was possible that the wanderer"
might have strayed; and therefore it was determined to
raise the whole neighbourhood, and to invite as many as
eould go, to meet early the next m rning, equipped for th
expedition, and prepared to renumi out a long as might
be necessary.
Thatevening, sevel mounted d messenger lef the village
in different doretions, and rode furiously away amidst the
pelting storm. Some spurred through the hlls; others
galloped along the rlver road. They were clad in thick
shaggy over-coats, with oil-loth cape on their heads; and
eaeh d in his hand a long, straight, tin horn, which he
Sble er and anon, to call attention to his tidiogs. There
w something indescribably solemn in those shr, piercing
notsd as they rose wallingly on the might air, and mingled
with the hoarse uproar of the gale. The tenants of nsy a
tarm-ho, e, sitting around their kitchen fre, and litoning
the splash of the rai on the roof, or the whistling of the
id as it shook the casements, were roused by the clatter-
ing of hoosf coming at ful speed along the stony road;
then, distinct above the howling of the tempeat, came the
summons--
To -t, t, toot, toot-to. --t Boys lost in the
mountains oI ioys lost in the mountains I Meet at Gren
lollow-six o'clock-to-morrow morning."










And on flew the foaming steed and the dripping horse-
man, to carry the same startling message to more distant
dwellings.
Whenever these rider came, they left excitement and
bustle behind themn Preparation. were at oneo commenced.
Horses were caught and fed, saddles and brdles examined,
gans inpeot d ed nd lead provisions cooked, clothing and
blankets brought forth, and everything got ready that could
be needed by men about to go on a search so toilsome.
At the appointed hour, a strong party asembled in Green
Hollow, composed chiefly of hardy, stalwart mountainees,
to whom a tramp among the wild craga and glens wa a-
the breath of their nostrils. Among them were the father
of the three lads, Mr. Lwrenoe, AMr. Seymour, Bquire
Goodwin, and his two sons. Nearly all carried ries or
fowling-pieces. Pompey sauompanied his master; and
several of e men h t men hd wi them large deer-hand trine
to follow the woods. Mrs. Morton, thinking old Peter's
limbn too stiff for such service, had chosen Prank a her
deputy; for though young, he wao very athletic, and his
former roaming habits had made him an excellent woods-
man. Her pony stood at the door ready for him to mount;
and she herself was bualy engaged packing into a knap-
sack uch articles as she thought he might want. At this
moment Cara came bounding into the room, carrying in
her hand a large woollen cap of a bright red colour, which
Peter was accustomed to wear in the winter.
Here, Frank I' she cred, holding it up, and laughing,
"here is something to keep your ears warm when you lie
down m your carp at mnght."
An excellent idea, Clara, said Mrs. Morton, taking the
eap and putting it into the nack, "this will be very s comfort
able; I wonder did not think of it"
I only thought of it jut now, and ran to fetch it. Bul
Frank," she added, "you must not wear it in the day-tinme
for if you go stalking through the bushes with such S red
top-piece, some of the me will take you for a wild turkey,
and give you a shoa "










"There are no wild turkeys in the Green Mountain
now," answered Frank
"Ahi! but they would think you were some stray one.
And, Frank" she continued, "if you see any Indians up
there in the woods, tll them to bring me some nice baskets
and moccasins, and III buy them.
I shan't see any Indians; they'd all gone too, like the
turkeys. iut maybe I'll see a bear, and if I do r shall tell
him to come, and if he won's come himself. Ill bring you his
skin."
,t No, no. I do not want him to come, and I don't wonl
his skin. I don't like bears, they are such ugly heasts; ead,
Frank, if you see one do not go nigh him."
Frank said he would be very careful, and only go nigh
enough to give him Miss lara's compliments. Mrs. Morton
ealo entreated him to be cautious, and not to ran into
danger, adding that if any mishap should befall bhi, she
could never forgive herself for sending a maer lad on esch
a buioees, and that even now she would not venture to do
it, had not the squire promised to keep special watch over
him.
The cavalcade now mounted andw t out. After riding
about two hours, they reached the residence of Mr. Barton,
here, an the nature of tho ground they were to explore
rendered it impossible to take their hores further, they
turned them looee ino a pature, depositing the saddles and
bridles in a barn. Shouldering their paeks and rifles, they
proceeded to the lake by the eane route which Hugh and
his companions hada tken. Arved there, they halted for
the purpose of completing their arrangements, and. dier-
tiing the course and method of the search.
They divided their company into two bands. The first
cosisted of the squire and de a es, the father of Hugh,
Mr. Lawrence, Mr. Seymour, Frank and six others, making
thirteen i all. To this the squire was chosen leader. The
other, comprising an equal number, with the faturs of Ben
and Jim, selected as its chief an old experienced woodana
whose ae name wa Williams A there were no man of









ascertaining which way the lost ones had gonae it was
decided that Wiliamne' party should make a ircuit round
the northern end of the lake, and Goodwins round the
southern, and then, taking an easterly direction, proceed
along the bae of Cameel's ump, until they met on its
opposite slope. It was agreed, moreover, that as oon as
either party had found the wanderers, mcesenger. should
be detached to inform the other. Certain rules were also
adopted for the guidance of each division. Eery quarter
of an hour the leader was to give two quick blasts of a
horn, to point out his position, and- prevent individuals
from straying. Three blasts in saeoesimo were to be the
signal for encamping; and three gne, fired at intervals of
a minute, were to denote that the boys had been found-
Thesepreliminarie having been settled, the bands departed
on their respective routes. An our narrative connects itself
with the southern party. their fortunes alone will be re-
heareed.
The storm bad ceased when they set forth, though heavy
masses of clouds still shrondbng the aky, prevented them
from marking their come by the sun. Yet, as they were
supplied with 4 good compass, they had no difficult ia
atsertaintng the direction they wished to follow. Morning
along the aike till they reached its southern shore, they
entered the forest and, alerpenetatfng ito oonaderablo
dintane, turned to the east, with the design of exploring
the wild tract of country that etretehed before them i that
quarter. They arranged the order of their search in suh a
manner as to extend it over as wide a space a possible
The squire occupied te centre; while the raet spread
themselves oat on either hand as far as they could, without
getting beyond the reach of the appointed signals. Thna
they went on, blowing tbeir haors, allag to their dogas
shouting to each other, and startulin the wild tenants o th
woods with so sod strange and unusual.
Their progrees was necessarily slow, for the ground wa
rugged and diff oult. Sometimes their way led them along
low, marshy swalesN overgron wi th ticket aed Matte4










brake. Sometimes they had to climb heights eo steep, that
they were forced to drag themselves up by grasping hold
of baushe and saplings, the loose stones and gravel sliding
from under their feet at every step. Now, on the uplands,
their path would be obstructed by wind-row, or stripe of
the foreet through which the hurricne had swept, and
piled up the prostrated timber into a almost impenetrabl
barrier. And now a mountain torrent would Ise in their
course, which they could pass only by fellHng a tree saro
it, and crawling over the precarious bridge on their hands
and knees Against all these obstacles they struggled
onward during the day, making only one short pause for
nedfli refreshment.
Towards evening the sky cleared up,and the sun, shining
out amidst golden clouds, gave promise of far weather. A
the afternoon was now fr advanced, the squire thought
it tie to call in hi scattered band, that they might prepare
for the night. Having selected a suitable plaem for ca mp
he ascended a neighboring bill, ad sounded the summons.
The blast, thrice repeated, rang out sharp and clear in the
pure air of that elevated region, ead floating in may
vibrations ove the leafy expanse, died away among the
distant winding of the mountains& Seaicely had a moment
elapsed when, from as many different point a dozen
answering blata oame beak, swelliog and reverberating
from side to aide, till rook and stream, and liff and hollow,
seamed all alve with the leaping echooe. Shouting to the
men to oin him in the valley below, the leader descended,
and began leiserely to survey the ground while waiting
their appearance.
They soon arrived, showing i their wiled garments and
jaded lookI no doubtful ndirks of the labour they had
undergone. Many carried t ings of pheasants ths they
had hot John and WJ illiam came loaded with the
obroe e of t f bneek whe the rile of e former had just
brought down. But Frank bore the most precipoutrophy
In, swampy ravine, about half a mile bhak, hle had tfod.
fasgmeit of the, ichrt fa coat, wifrom itecolofur sad










pattern, he at once recognized a belonging to the one worn
by Hugh on the morning of the asault. He related also
that he had seen in the soft bottom the foot-prinst of the
three boys going eastward, and that they musa have passed
emuce the rain, as the markB were quio fresh. This intelli-
gence greatly encouraged the party, and they went about
their arrangeinats for the night, cheerea by the asurane
that they were on the track of the wanderer and would
probably come up with themearly the nest day.




CHAPTER XIII.

oAMPrum our.

Tem spot in which the quire proposed to encamp his party
was well chosen for the purpose. It was smituted in a sor
of glade, or open space, at the bottom of a deep valley
through which flowed a sparkling brook over a bed of
smooth white stones. The ground, onsidig te amount
of rain that liha fale, wle was tolerably dry, oear of nder-
brune, and covered with a bhort greon meos. Severe large
hirhes w he nd other trees rew around and a monstrou elm,
thrown down by the tempest, stretched its Ihue bulk alone
the edge of the stream. On this aide, the glea was shAt in
by a high Ledge of rocks that rose almost perpendicularly
like a wall. The opposite aeaolvity waa more gradual, the
hill dwelling up in a rounded form, mantled with a thick
growth of s~ted firs and pmes.
Our wayfarem. were charmed with this smug recess, and
began at once to provide the necess accomodaion
The first thing to be done was to build a fire. oome of the
men went in seeh of dead trees, whose limb, esaoned in
the an, they a t into fteL Frnk found two or there dry
pine lnaote, ad putting them fne with a hatchet lhid th
wpiees against the laden elm above describeds while the










squire, witl fnt and steel, ignited a piece of tochwood,
and laying it on the pitchy splinters soon set them all in a
blaoe. When these were surffiently kindled, the stout
limb e re piled on, stick after stick. sa nful after armful,
until a huge fire was raring and crackling along the trnnk
of the old elm, lighting up with its faBsee the dark faoe of
the rocks, and the shadows of the surrounding foliage.
The next step was to construct their camp. Ag a very
large one was required to shelter so many, a piece of
ground, about twenty feet long and ten wide, was marked
out between the fire and the ledge of rocks, and carefully
freed from whatever rubbish encumbered it. Along the
outer sides of this space, they drove a number of rotched
posn, making these in front higher than those in the rear,
so that the roof might elope like a shed. In the forks of
these uprights they placed four strong poles, and then lad
croewise u pon these a great number of smaller poles, at
short distances from each other. Having 'preeded thus
far, they judged it beat to divide their remaining labours.
John and William applied themselves to skinnig and
cutting up the deer; and Frank war Bet -to pluck ther
pheasan ts. and get them ready for the spit. The reat went
down the glen to a grove of young beingule, and returned
with as many of the clipped branches a they could carry.
These they spread thickly over the roof of the camp, the
small, fanlike twigs foning covering almost as impervious
as thatch. They also se larir branches elantingly agarft
the back and cnds leaving the front open to the fire. Then
they brought several ljed mor of the boughs, and strip-
ping them very fine, strewed the saft, feathery leaves all
through the inside, to a depth of iz or eight inches; thug
converting the whole eanclosre into a fragrant and delicioh
coach.
leaving nisthed their lodging place, they commeaned
cooking their wappers. Although their paek contained a
good supply of oold menas gad other kinde of sTbstantial
fuod, yet the more dainty fare which the tfrest had ent
the m re dered these stores rather unattrative; and sele











ing only a few loaves of bread an some light articles,
they reserved the emainder for a time when game might
not be so plenty. rUsing as skewers long stiok with many
sharpened prongs, they broiled their venison steaks rnd
wild fowl over the hot coals Some nmde tea or coffee, which
they drank from tin porringers; but most preferred to
quench their thh the pUrs cdl water othe h rook
that gurgled and asheod at their feet. Well might the
heated epicures of cities envy this primitive repaet, to which
hard labour and the fresh mountain air gvoe a relish that
the most refined cookery and the rioheet condiments would
see in vain to impart.
When their meal was ended, and the fire replemnihed with
fresh fuel, they Bat down on the soft boughs in front of the
oamp, to roL themselves after the exhausting toils of the
day. The deep solitude of the scene and of the hour was
well fitted to inspire serious thought. The night was
cloudless; wnd the moon, now nearly full, had risen Sbove
the eastern heights, and was shedding its bhoan over the
valley, marking the open spaces with streaks of silver, and
tinging with its pal, bickering light the brown sides of the
crgi, and the gloom of te embowering woods. silence
reigned around, interrupted only by the low murmur of the
stream as it glided along it pebbly bed, the plaintive note
of the whip-poor oroowill, or the hooting of olitry owl from
his perch in the top of a deoyed tree. The circumstances
which had brought the party into their present position
barmonmied vith the solemn mood awakened by the time
and the place, and tended to increase it, Aler they had
at musing for a while, Frank aaid to Mr. Seymour-
wislh those poor boys had such a warm fire and nice
supper to-night as we have. It makes me feel very sorry
to think how cold and hungry they mut be."
I wik so too," ifawered Mr. Seymour. Though they
have beenvery wicked, cannot but pity them. I am afra
they must have snffered a great deal by this time. Their
case strikingly ilustretes the statement of the Bible: The
Tay of ftnsg rst ist hbard.- "











"Doing wrong," aid Mr. Lawrence, joining in the con.
vereation, is attended with much greater discomfort even
in this life than doing riglt The path of duty i sometimes
rugged ad toilsome; but the path of sin is far more so.
And I think this is especially tre of the sin of Sabbath-
breaking. I have frequently had occasion to notice that
excursions for aimsemoen on the Lord's day not unfro-
qunntly end in some diesater, ma if God meant to frown
particularly on such desecration. The case of these lads
is only one of many similar instance that I have known."
WeU, I think they deserve all they have suffered," said
John Goodwin. "They ought to be punished for abusing
Frank as they did, nd then running away to the lake to
fish on Sunday. It would have served them right, if, instead
of coming up hee after them, we bad left them to find
their way back a they beea could."
"John, replied his father, "what yon say may be just,
but it is not iotated by a Christian spirit. That was not
the way in which our Saviour acted. hen we had all
wandered from God by disobedience, he did not leave us
to the consooquonce of onr folly, but came to seek and to
save that which was lost.' "
SThat is a very interesting thought" said Mr. Lawraece,
Sand one that has often occurred to me during the day.
The business in which we are now engaged seem well
calculated to remind us of Onr To*s misSion into this
world, to bring a lost and alienated race back to God, and
restore it to the enjoyment of his favour. What astonishing
grace was manifested in this ripendone ahiBvement of
Divine love I We had no claim to mercy. It wae of free
choice that we foraook our Pather's house, and went forth
into the howling wlderness of in ; and most jntly might
he have left e to wander on in darkness and gltls, nutil we
plunged into eoerelasing perdition. But, moved by com-
pasinon for our nisaery. he gave his only begotten Son
to seek and to h ; ad tt only begotten n e aid
aside the glory of his Godhead, and cone down frm heaven
on the sublime errand of kIindnes. e enme to dwell in










our nature. Hte came to endure poverty, opposition, and
reproach. He came to fulfil the law which we had broken,
and by o tiofyig it penalty with his own blood, to remove
every harrier which it interpsed to our return to God.
Having thus opened the way for our recovery, he rose from
the dead, and aesended to the right hand of the Majesty on
high, there to plead the merited of his atoning acrifice, and
to send forth his Word and Spir to incline our hearts to
accept his salvation."
"And how affectingly," added Mr. Seymour, doee he
desrlbe, in the parable of the lost aheep, the pity which
led him to undertake the work of human redemption, and
the satisfaction whioh he feeCl when a strayed and erring
sout is brought home to his fold. *What -an of you,
having an hundred sheep, if he low one of them, doth not
leave the ninety and mne in the wilderness, and go after
that which sm lost, until he find it I And when he hath found
it, he layeth it on his shoulders rejoicing. And when he
cometh home, he calleth together his friends and neigh-
bours, saying uto them, Rejoice with me, for I have found
my sheep which was lcat. I y unto you, that likewise joy
shall be in heaven over one sinner that repenteobh"
SYes," replied Mr. Lawrence, the tenderness of Christ
towards such sinful and worthless oreaures as we are is
most wonderful, d ul and ld melt u in lowly contrition
before him. And while we humbly rely on his merls for
the pardon of our own offences, let us follow hi steps in
endeavouring to reclaim te rebellious and the ountest.
We ae now seeing to rescue thoes whom their own o-
wardnee has led into trouble. May we not ope that, in
answer to or prayer the Holy Spirit wi l make the distress
which they have thus brought on the!aelves the means of
opening their eyes to the cri ty of eir condt and
leading them to tre repenteane I"
In thie manner they continued to convere or a timse the
whole Cemauny itening wth fixed and pleased attend ;
same because they flt a deep personal itereat in the shb-
jeot, and others became they respected religion, and m-











knowledge its necessity, though they were yet strainer
to its vital power.
At length, as all were extremely weary, they prepared to
seek the needful repse of sleep. Before doing this, how-
ever, they united in a hymn of praise to God, who had
guided and protected them during a day of so much labour
and anxiety. For this purpose, they chose the following
beautiful lines of Addison -

'The Lord my pasture salaprpepsr?
And feed mew lth a hepherda ce;
His presence shall my wets supply,
And g oar o with a watchtll eye;
My noonday alks hoe ha att en
And al my uidawlit hore defend.
rWen a, the adiry glebe I hit,
Or on the thirely mounti pt
TO reUrtle vad~ and dw ea
My w0ry, wndering sftep hoe leads
Where peaceful rlers, soft fned sloW,
Amid the verda nt Indcape IowI.
ThOigh ln a bare and "nggMd wary
ThrouPh devioua. only Jds I stray,
Thy prw'ce halll My pau besgael;
The barren Wildoerne shall emile,
Wth sudden greel ,nd herbag acrowned1
and striah e monlialn anmr. aei msn *

All then lonelt down, and Mr. Lawrence offered a short,
fervent prayer, thanking God for hie sunnubered blessins,
beseeching him to pardon their eins for Christ's ake, and
stll to grant them his upholding canr Nor were the poor,
misguided tanderers forgotteIn Most ea eet was the
petition presented on their behalf, that God would be
mercinfl to them, and iot only shield them from danger,
and restore them in safety to their friend, but lead their
feet into the way of holiness and peace.
This done, they once more renewed their fe, supplyiag
it with such a quantity of fuel as would keep it burning
brightly through the night; and then wrapping their bla-
kets around e th ey lay down ththei leafy conch
beneath the watch moon and start, feeling tha the
-r










unslumbering eye of the All-seing could fiard them as
seurely amid the wild solitudes of the mountains as in
their own beloved homes.



OAFPTER XIV.

FOUND.

As soon as the first gleams of morning began to show
themselves in the east, the wayfarers awoke. Their sleep
had been sound and uudisturbed, and they rose refreshed
and invigorated for he exertione that yet lay before them.
Baling together the still glowing brand of their last
night's fire, and heaping on fresh wood, they prepared a
hearty breakfast from the meat of the deer, not forgetting
to reserve several large sheen to take with them ready
cooked for the ffmished boys when they should be found.
The remainder, together with such heavy luggage as they
thought they should not need, they concealed safely under
theboughs f their cmp-bed, hoping to accomplish their
object so as to return in the course of the day. Then, after
a brief prayer by Mr., Seynmor, asking God's blessing and
direction, they set forth'to rTene their eearch.
Led by Frank, they first went back to the spot where he
had seen the footprints on the preceding evening. They
soon discovered them, and found no diffiolty in tracing
them up for a onsiderable distance along the wet bottom
of the ulley. But after a while the trail divrgeod ito
higher and drier ground, where they were no longer able
to follow it. They then spread themselves out as they had
done the day before, holding a nearly as they could the
direction of the foot-mark when last observed. In this
manner they continued to move forward, clambering over
hills threading valleys, beating thlkets, and marching
into every dark and hidden ook, till the sn had risen high
towards th med heeri y were now tar adva&ned along











the southern border of the mountain, and had reached a
point where the ontlying spurs and intervening hollow
began to trend round in a line with its eastern base
Frank, to whom Pompey, as if guided by some peonliar
instinct, aattad tth imse all the morning, was at this
time picking hia way up a deep, narrow ravine, overhung
by beetling precipices. At length he came to its head,
where a tall porpendioeuar cliff, shooting down right across
it, seemed to bar all further progress. While looking
around for some break or opening in the rocks, the appear
ance and movements of Pompey arrested his attention.
The dog stood with hair erect, and eyes dihtended and
fishing, gazing intently at a clamp of high blushe that
grew near the Foot of the crag. UTttering a loud growl, he
bounded off towards the thicket, but, as if repelled by some
mysterious dread, instead of entering It, he began to ran
rapidly round in a circle, stuffing the ground and barking
furiously. Frank was a good deal startled. He feaed
almost as much as Pompey to go into the bushes, les they
might contain sose wild animal, perhaps a bear or a pan-
ther, that would spring suddenly upon him. But being
naturally a brave boy, he pnlcked up hs courage, and
advanced slowly Into the cover, coong bi ggn and grasp-
ing it iAmly in one hand, while he parted the t'Mik ebranche
with the other: He had not proceeded far before he die.
covered the lost boys lying partly covered with leaves and
brush behind an old log. At finr he thought they were
dead, so haggard and ghaetly were their falce, and so
motionless their postBgre But at this moment, Hugh, de.-
turbed by t ing ofhe arlg of he dog, raised his hd and
looked around with a frightened and bewildered glance
till his eye fel on Frank.when, trying in a faint voice, a
Frank! is that you he turned to his comrades, and shak-
ing them with all his mremainngstrengb, e Tclaimed, "Jimat
Benu wake Up-here's Frank-we're found, we're ved 1"
And the poor, starring lad, overcome by the sudden hope
of deliveranoe bowed his face in hi hands, and wept like
mn infant










Frank was beside himself wOith joy, He clapped hie
hands, he hallooed, he leaped up and down like one frantic.
Enger to Comznunicat the glad intelligent to the rest of
the party,,he caught up hs gun and fired it off; then seiz.
ing his horn, he began to blow with might and main. stop-
pig now and then, not to take breath, but to shout; aid
thus he went on blowing and shouting, shouting and blow-
ing, tir the dark ravine rang and echoed with the sornds.
The squire was on the tzrther rade of the ridge that bor.
dered the glen on the right, and his two aon just over the
brow of the oppose opposite one. All three heard rank's signal,
and a soon as they cme near enough to learn their import,
they fired their guns as a token to their associates, and
lurried to the apot as fant as they could munko their
way down the ragged face of the rocks. The others
soon followed with hasty steps, and in the highest excite-
oent.
The feelings manifested by Hugh's father were Inde.
scribably touching. He was t the extreme end of the line
of search, when he heard the three sccessive reports which
had been agreed upon ae the signal that the boys were
found. Forgetful of all else, he rushed with headlong
speed in the direction of the rfing. A deep bog lay in his
way, but he pinhged through it uaneoosious that he often
seun to his knees in the trecherous mir. He wadd tor-
renta, leaped aroSe oChmst, flung himself down frightful
seeops. His clothes were rent, his limbs bruised by many a
fall, his hands out by the barp edges of rocks, his face
lacerted and bleeding. Yet he knew it not-hnewnothing
but that his child was found. Arrived at the place where
his son lay, he clasped him in his ama, and sobbing ont,
SMy.boy I -y boyl[" fell painting by hi s ide.
The bystanders soon recovered b and then proceeded
to give more pmnetioular attention to the state o the reseeu
lads. Their condition, a might be expected, was most
pitiable, Their gearenns were soiled and torn ; and their
feet, bareting out through their rent ahoes, were wsunded
and ewollen. For nearly three daye they had not tasted











food, and they had become no weakened by exposure and
famine, as to be scarcely able to stand. On the preceding
fternoon they had reached the spot where they bad been
found; and perceilvin their ay shut up in the direction
they were going, and feeling themselves too muh spent
either to climb the oliff or to retraee their step down the
glen, they had reapt into the thicket, as affording the best
shelter they could Cfnd for passing the might. In the morn-
ing, their limbl were so siff sore, and their strength so
exhausted, that it became impossible for them to renew
their wanderings- Several ties they attempted to rise
and move forward; but their heads grew giddy; a deadly
sickness nes over them; and abandoning all further effort t
they lay down In despair to die. In this state, they soon
sunk into that overpowering sleep in which Frank had di
covered them.
asing them up, their deliverer administered to each a
few spoonsle of cold strong coffee, which they had brought
with them for the purpose. When this had revived them
a little, they were supplied with more solid nutruente in
very ema l quantities, and at short intervals. In giving
them food, it was necesary to use gret caIuton at dret,
since they were so debilitated by long faeting, that sudden
repletion might have been fatal As they were too feeble
to walk, litters were made for carrying them, by weaving
the branch o res of tree around light, elonr pole, deigned
to serve as handles for the beares. Strewing those with
coats and garment and placing the lads in them, the whole
band, with the exception of two of their number who were
eant forward to infora the other party. set out on their
return to the camp, where they arrived about the middle of
the afternoon
Here they proposed to remains during the night, as it
was too laee to think of proceedings to the settlement.
Laying the boys carefully on the bed of fragrant homlook,
they bathed their inadted feet with cold-ester, chafed
their benumbed and weary limba and applied such other
astolratlves a their experience arggented and their means









could furnish. Tho, building a great ire, they gave them
hot tea and coffee, and a nice supper of broiled venison, a
jauny and steaming from thoe oals. Soothed by the tender
nursing, and invorated by the nourishing food, the tired
ramblers soon fell into a sweet and refr oshuig lumber.
That evening, as the company kanel once more in prayer,
they reemebered the sleeping ones before them; and with
the warm thanks. tht went up to God for their rescue, was
mingled a fervent supplication, tht their deliverance from
physical danger might be but the prelude and the type of
their deliverance from the far more tremendous perils of
irreligion andin.
In the morning, the objects of their care were found to be
so far recovered by food and rest as to h able to walk with
considerable eae; and, therefore, the party, as soon as
they had breokfaated, left their encampment, and proceed
by moderate stages towards their homes. As they moed
leisurely along, the three lads appeared very grave nd
serious. They spoke but little; and it was noted that
whenever any allusion was made to the scenes through
which they had passed, a perceptible shudder would go
over them. They were evdently oppressed by a sense of
the great danger from which they had escaped; and that
they were very grateful to their deliverere, especially to
Frank, was seen in the imaniest preference for his com-
pany, which they showed by keeping as near to him as they
could. As he had been the rst to discoer them, they
seemed to regard him aw the ohief instrument of their
resone; and this, contorted with their erael abuse of him,
appeared to affect them deeply, and to draw them towards
him with strong attachment.
In this mannerit happened that, on one occasion during
the journ, ey they were eparated from all the other, except
rank and Mr. Seymour. The lattbrwho never neglected
a favourable opportunity of doing good, comtenced a con-
versation with them, in the hope of making their late .d-
venture the mean of impressing religious truth on their
minds.










"Well, my' young friends," he said, "you have had a
pretty severe time of it, have you not I "
Yes, sir," answered Hugh, I never want such another.
The fright, and cold, and hunger were terrible. 0 those
nights in the mountain they will haunt me on long as I
live."
Thoy mrst have been dreadful iddeed, and we all felt
for you very munh, knowing what you must sufer. And
bihjs mlkas me the more anxidou that the hardships which
yon have undergone should not be without somine atary
result. Will you be offended if I tell yon a few thing
which they seem to me strongly to suggest "
The boys asmured him that, as he had been no kind to
them, they would hear with pleasure whatever he might
wish to any. Mr. Seymour then continued.-
Yor recent experience appears to me a striklsg emblem
of the state and conduct of unconverted minners. Man has
lost himself by transgession. He is an aimen from his
Maker-oubcast from heaven and happinesa-bewildered in
thB-marea of error-following the devices of his own cor-
rupt hear-tand liable, every moment, to fall into the
abyss of deeobrction. This is naturaJly the condition of all
-of each one of ournsves-util brought by Divine grace
from the ignorace and folly of our ways to the wisdom of
the just. But, as there were those who went forth to seek
and recover you, so there is One who searches after the
wanderer from God. Jean Christ hau come to bring back
the aeiles, to reclaim the outcasts, to save the lot. He
oglle you by the monitions of his providence, by the teach-
ings of his Word, by the drawings of his Spirit. If you
hear his voice, and go to him in repentance and faith, ho
will lead you away from the paths o the destroyer, and
guide you in safety and joy to hi eternal home. But if
you refuse to listen to his imitations, yon will continue to
plunge deeper and deeper into fi, and filly siak into
everlasting rio. Thus Jehovah by his prophet uttered
the warnio of ol ear ye. and give ear be not prm d ;
for the Lord hath spoken. Give glory to the Lord your









God, before e caue darkness, and before your feet
stumble upon the dark mounsainn and while ye look for
ligt,h he turn it into the'shadow of death, and make ft
gross darkness! You remember vell, when, after long
striving to find your way, it became evident that you had
missed it, what horror the conviction brought, and with
what agony the words, 'We're lost'.burst from your lips.
But far more awful is it to be lost in the delusiois of usae-
lief and impenstence; and unspeakably more awfol still
will it be to take up at last theg lamntatio, oetI lest for
ever l'1"
To thia solemn appeal neither of the boys made any
reply but the nervous working of their features. and the
tears that ome into theai eyes, proved that they did not
hear together without emotion.
In the cours of the afternoon, the party arrived at the
plate where they had lefb their horses. Here they all
mounted and rode down to the village, which they reached
about~ Bmnset. Great was the excitement produced by their
coming, As the news spread, the whole population e ooed
together to welcome back the wanderers, Hot a whisper of
reproach was uttered; not a reference muade to the sin and
folly of which th7e had been guilty. All shook them
warmly by the hand, and with kind looks and words con-
grntulated m them their safe return But who shall de-
esribe what their mothers felt 1 The long eaony of mpense
was over; and they olasped their nons in their argm,
tears and sobs alone told the deep transport of their hearts.
Attended by a group of symnpatusing friends and neigh-
bora, each led her child to her own house. he crowd
then dispersed, and night and silDene settleK down upon
t behamile
The anexh d4y, Frank was engaged in his stomreary
avoctions, he was snzprised by a wvit froum the three lad.
They saluted him very cordially, and he retuned their
greeting with equal warmth- After convesing a few
ininntea, Hugh, who seemed to have been deputed a
spokeeiuant for the rest, ad-











"We have come to toll you, Yrank, how sorry we are
for whba we did to yon last Sunday morning. We knew ab
th e te that o we t yo were ghtad we wrong, though we
were too angry to own it. But your kindness since ba
made us heartily aslamed of our conduct, and we sincerely
ask your pardon."
"I forgive yoa moot cheertflly. and let na now be
fiends," replied Frank, grasping their hands, and fairly
weeping for Joy.
aSo we wish to be. And, Frank, we omen to leave
off our bad ways as you have done; and we have made up
our minds to go with you to the Bunday-cehool, and we
should be glad, too, to have Mr. Seymour for our teacher.
We like him very muoh. We have thought a great deal of
the advice he gave us coming home; and what he said
about stumbling upon dark mountains' and being 'lot
lost-for ever I' has rung in our ears ever sinee?
Frank was delighted at this proposal, and still more at
the feeling which appeared to dictate it. He did all he
could to enourage and strengthen them in their resolution,
and told thoe how rejoiced he should be to have their
company.
Accordingingly, ting him on the following abbath, not
far from the very spot ere they lhad stoned him only a
week before, they wenwithl him to the school. Their
appearance rested a great sensation. All were alike
pleased and astonished. The anperlntendent received them
in the most affectionate manner, and, at their request, con-
signed them to Mr. Beymour's are. And wa not PFran a
happy boy then I Did he not feel, as he sa is former
persecutors sitting so quiet and friendly by his side, that
forbearance oas the arrest way to conquer, and that kind-
no no w c fighter than wath And did not little Clarn's
eyes look brighter than ever at the sights Our young
reader know they did, though none of them were there
to see,













CHAPTER XV.

Tfa nraiEn &SnB COMINO rP.

AnIrarn winter and spring had passed, and the early
summer had come again, with its gree wooda anfields,
and its bursting w ngowe. g the interval which had
ths ea pe he subjects of our narrative had continued to
sendy the Scriptures, and to receive cleua iad faitnl
loatruotion n the great truths which they unfold. The
effects of thi training were visible in the correai deport-
ment of those who aid before been disorderly, and in the
advanelig knowledge of all, lnt as yet the work was
outward only. There were no deeded tokens of that in-
ward renewal bhieh s the grand end of religious culture-
For some time, however, a growing interest in the con-
cerns of the soul had become manifest. An unusual anxiety
for the conversion of their pupils animated the teachers.
With stronger faith, and more frequent and importunate
prayer, they they ed the heavenly eed. With increasing
urgency, they admonished, exhorted, pled. Soon indica
tions of good began to appear; and often, as they pressed
home upon the objects of their solicitude the wamringu and
invitational of the geopel, the heaving sigh and the starting
tear would tell that the germs oF spiritual life were stirring
and quickening in their booms.
Nor were ee thee sign of promise confined to the Sunday
school. They gradually spread through the entire com-
munity. The members te church were roused into
unwonted activity. Meetings for prayer and mutual ne orb
traion we re me fully attended, and breathed a deeper and
livelier zeal The lukewarm were revived, the sluggish
kindled into fresh energy, backsliders searched out and
reowaimed. The pastor, n his addresee rom the pulpit, and
in l visits from house to houe, laboured unremittingly to










awaken the people to a sense of eternal thing, and warned
the wicked'to flee from tthe wth to come, with peculiar
eamestnees and power. A striking solemity, a still and
brooding thboghtfnlnes-the usual precursor of spiritual
showers-huDn over the whole place; a thoughtfulnese that
not only showed itself in the Sabbath assembly, but eat on
the countenances of men in their week-day wIaks, and
seemed almost to pervade the very uir they breathed. At
length the cloud of mercy unlocked its treasres; and the
long hidden seed, fructifed by the rain of the Spirit, swelled,
and sprouted and shot up int the tender blade.
Clara was the first in whom the bud of gree expanded
into full blossom. Nurtured from her earliest childhood in
the principles of Christian truth, she had long evinced a
tondernesaso conscience, and 4 sensibility to religious sub-
jects, wh ch showed that a Divine influence was silently
operating on r mnd. her mid lately those feelings had grown
more permanent and engrossing. Eternal realities occupied
her thoughts more exclusively, and rested there with greater
force. Her views of the honlmes of God, of the justice of
his claims of the evil of singing against him, and of the
absolute impossibility of being saved in any other way than
by faith in the atonement of Christ, became iore distinct
and powerul, Trawn by the gentle yet rosietless hand of
the Celestial Sanctiflar, she placed her whole trust in the
blood of propitiation, and found fopee and joy in believing.
Well taught and seriously disposed as she had always been,
still the change wrought in her was very sbrkiung What
had before been the result of education, of eaanile, of
habit, now flowed from a purer and more abiding ource-
from the graeion affections of a regenenated heart. She
manifested the meot ardent desire to honour her aviour,
and to lead her companions and schoolmates to soek at
interest in him ; and young as she was, her lonm efforts
proved a bleaing to many.
On Frank, especially, her inuence was marked and
deloire. As the preceding pages have shown, he had
improved greatly under religious teaching, and had become










a very intelligent mnd promising youth, exemplary in be
behaviour, mild and amiabl in hi disposition, and nunier-
sally respected. But there he stopped. Although he had
acquired a speculative knowledge of the gospel, and often
felt the necessity of that internal change which it demands,
his heart was still unenewed. Recently, his concern on this
subject hd even begun to subside. The commendations
which his excellent conduct had called forth, had tended to
nourish in him a feeling of self-righteousnes; and the idea
insensibly tole into his mind, that he had don&all he could
to severe the favour of God, and was about good enough
This woa not owing to any neglect on the part of his teacher
and other Christian fronds; for they had been vry emplheit
in pointing out to him the danger of resting in mere outward
reformation, without that iward work of the Spirit, which
alone cant the eol for heaven. Nor did he knowingly yield
himelt elto deion so perilous Yet it was there-latenL
and unconfemsed indeed, but still there-blinding his eyes
and stifling hie convictions. From this f snare it was
the pleasure of God to make Clara the instrument ohis
dehlverace.
Meeting him soon after the happy transition whiob had
taken place in her own faelhnge she told him how preotion
the Saviour now appeared to her, of the sweet peace which
she enjoyed, and of her delightful hope that she had passed
from death unto life.
Why, Clam," he answered in surpr I I thought you
had been religious a long time. You have always behaved
so properly, and have shown so much interest in the Bible,
and in the Sunday-ehool, and in doing good to others, that
I never supposed you needed anything more."
0 ye, I needed a great deal more. It iW true, that my
dear mother's care ad example have kept me from open
sin, and taught me to esteem religion, and to take a certain
pleasure in it. But I hd a very wicked heart after all-
a heart that wao at enmity wiMt God-though I never enw
it so clearly as I have lately- But I trust that God hoa now,
for CIbrit's sake, taken away my old hear that was alway




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