Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Half Title
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 The word in season
 One step in advance
 A friend
 An unlooked-for difficulty
 The journey
 The arrival
 The new home
 A walk to the Sunday-school
 Out in the snow-storm
 The resolve
 Once more at Evedon
 Parting words
 The temptation
 The escape
 Back Cover

Title: Frank Russell, or, Living for an object
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00081950/00001
 Material Information
Title: Frank Russell, or, Living for an object
Alternate Title: Living for an object
Physical Description: 174 p., 1 leaf of plates : col. ill. ; 15 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Frederick Warne and Co ( Publisher )
Billing and Sons ( Printer )
Dalziel Brothers ( Engraver )
Publisher: Frederick Warne and Co.
Place of Publication: London
Manufacturer: Billing and Sons
Publication Date: [1892?]
Edition: New ed.
Subject: Christian life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Boys -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Adventure and adventurers -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Sunday schools -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Temptation -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Bildungsromane -- 1892   ( rbgenr )
Prize books (Provenance) -- 1892   ( rbprov )
Bldn -- 1892
Genre: Bildungsromane   ( rbgenr )
Prize books (Provenance)   ( rbprov )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
General Note: Date of publication from inscription.
General Note: Frontispiece printed in colors and engraved by Dalziel.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00081950
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002229963
notis - ALH0303
oclc - 212375326

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Front Matter
    Half Title
        Half Title
    Title Page
        Page i
        Page ii
    Table of Contents
        Page iii
        Page iv
    The word in season
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
    One step in advance
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
    A friend
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
    An unlooked-for difficulty
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
    The journey
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
    The arrival
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
    The new home
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
    A walk to the Sunday-school
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
    Out in the snow-storm
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
    The resolve
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
        Page 118
        Page 119
        Page 120
        Page 121
        Page 122
    Once more at Evedon
        Page 123
        Page 124
        Page 125
        Page 126
        Page 127
        Page 128
        Page 129
        Page 130
    Parting words
        Page 131
        Page 132
        Page 133
        Page 134
        Page 135
        Page 136
        Page 137
        Page 138
        Page 139
        Page 140
        Page 141
        Page 142
    The temptation
        Page 143
        Page 144
        Page 145
        Page 146
        Page 147
        Page 148
        Page 149
        Page 150
        Page 151
        Page 152
    The escape
        Page 153
        Page 154
        Page 155
        Page 156
        Page 157
        Page 158
        Page 159
        Page 160
        Page 161
        Page 162
        Page 163
        Page 164
        Page 165
        Page 166
        Page 167
        Page 168
        Page 169
        Page 170
        Page 171
        Page 172
        Page 173
        Page 174
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text

The Baldwin Library
J Univ' erity

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pibing for an Object.



co1ut tfIs.











. 15

S 25

. 35

. 44

. 56


.. 83




THE RESOLVE. ... ... 109


PARTING WORDS . ....... 131
TIE ESCAPE .. . . 153


ONE warm summer's afternoon, a boy about
fourteen years of age was lounging upon the
edge of a wooden trough in front of a public
house. The trough was connected with a
pump, and had been placed there for the
convenience of horses. The large swinging
sign, standing out upon the road in a con-
spicuous position, made known, no less than
the writing above the door-way, that the
house was kept open for the Entertain-
ment of man and beast." Here the latter
was refreshed with a cool, pure liquid; whilh
.within, its owner was supplying himself with
a burning poison. The boy possessed a natu-


rally active turn of mind, and was idling, as
we described him, only because just now
there was nothing special for him to do.
Presently, a traveller appeared on horseback,
turning a corner of the load. This sight
aroused the lad in a moment from his list-
lessness; and, taking down a painted bucket
from the side of the pump where it was
hanging, he stood ready to hold the reins
while the rider should dismount.
"Will you stop, sir ?" he said, in a quick,
business-like way, as the traveller drew up
before the door.
"Just while you give my horse a drink,"
replied the gentleman.
"Hadn't you better go into the house,
sir? Mr. Conner keeps the very best ales
and spirits, sir; and I will take good care
of your horse till you come back," urged the
boy, in the same tone as before.
"No, thank you," replied the gentleman.
"My horse is thirsty, but I am not; and, in
my opinimo the drink which Mr. Conner
would give me in the bar-room is not half
so good as what my horse is getting here."
The boy looked up steadily in the gentle-
man's face at this unusual speech, and for


the first time noticed him particularly. A
professed physiognomist would have been
instantly struck with the features which met
the boy's upturned gaze. The whole cast of
the face showed distinct marks of a high
degree of intellectual strength, mellowed by
a mild and pleasing disposition. The lad
was no physiognomist, yet he too was at-
tracted by the countenance, and felt its in-
fluence. He had a strong desire to know
more of the stranger.
This is a first-rate horse of your's, sir,
and no mistake," said he, as he smoothed
down its glossy coat.
"Yes, he is a very good horse," answered
the gentleman; and, then looking intently
upon the intelligent and pleasant face of the
boy, he inquired-
Is Mr. Conner your father ?"
Oh, no, sir," replied the boy; my name
is Frank Russell."
And what is your business here ?" asked
the stranger.
I hold horses for the customers and
water 'em, as I am doing now, go of errands,
do nearly all the odd jobs about the house,
and sometimes 'tend the bar," said the boy.


Do you mean to follow this kind of trade
all your life?"
Frank hesitated, scarcely knowing how to
reply. He had often indulged in a vague
sort of fancy that some time or other he
might be a respectable-looking middle-aged
gentleman, owning a fine farm and driving
his family to church in a one-horse chaise,
or be the proprietor of a thriving shop or
factory. But when he was to make the first
start towards this great change in his pros-
pects, and how it was to be brought about,
had never been seriously thought of; both
were still far on in the dim uncertain future.
The gentleman was waiting for an answer,
however; so the boy replied, hesitatingly-
No, I suppose not, sir."
Then I should think it was quite time
that you were looking round for something
better to do," said the gentleman..
Again the boy paused, while an expres-
sion of doubt settled upon his features. For
the first time his fancies began to assume a
positive shape; and such a huge pile of
difficulties arose between him and their ac-
complishment, that he felt half inclined to
relinquish them for ever. The stranger


seemed to read the changing expression of
his face, and to understand it.
You would not wish to become such a
man as that?" he said, pointing to a miser-
able-looking being who lay upon a bench
close at hand, sleeping off the effects of a
drunken bout.
The boy drew back with a shudder.
There is no need for you to make any
exertion to be like him," continued the
stranger. All you have to do is to remain
as you now are, and you may slide into that
condition naturally enough."
The boy looked concerned and troubled,
and, without speaking, he began slowly and
mechanically to empty the bucket,-as by
this time the horse was quite satisfied.
"Depend upon it, my boy," added the
gentleman, taking the reins and mounting,
yet still looking intently in his face, no
one ever yet became rich, or great, or good,
without making an effort and overcoming
many serious difficulties; and I should think
it not impossible for you to do what others
have done."
The next moment, after putting a piece
of money in the boy's hand, he was riding


slowly down the road. It was a whole
shilling; more than double the amount
which the lad had ever before received for
so trifling a service. The liberality of his
unknown friend pleased him; yet the words
which had been spoken left a far deeper im-
pression upon his mind. He stood for some
minutes looking after the horse and his
rider, as they slowly disappeared, vainly
hoping that something might induce them
to change their course and return. Just as
they were becoming lost to sight, a voice
from a window was heard:-
Frank! Frank! it is quite time you were
taking that keg over to Mr. Sellars's."
With a quick movement the bucket was
replaced in its former position, and the keg
taken in charge: but for the first time he
felt an uneasiness at knowing that it con-
tained whisky instead of some more harmless
beverage. The words of the stranger had
taken effect.
The early morning found Frank wide
awake. He had on his mind an indistinct
idea that there was something new for him
to be thinking about. The words of the
stranger still sounded in his ears, in the


same impressive tones in which they were
I should think it not impossible for you
to do what others have done."
In a moment another scene was recalled
to his memory,-the inside of a district-
school; for he had once attended school at
intervals for two or three years. The teacher
had given his class an unusually difficult
question in arithmetic, which none but
himself had succeeded in answering cor-
Yes, the traveller was right. I can do
anything which another boy could do. At
all events, I will try!" he exclaimed, with
energy; and, springing from the bed, he
began to dress.
During this process, however, his mind
was still intent upon the same subject.
There were many difficulties in the way of
becoming rich and great and good, and he
saw them at a glance distinctly before him.
But the gentleman had said that no one
ever became either of these without making
an effort; and, as he intended to be all
three, his desire could only be accomplished
by an effort uncommonly strong,


The first thing for him to do was to get
freed from his present employment as soon
as possible. Mr. and Mrs. Conner had both
been very kind to him in their way; but
no step could be taken towards promotion
while he remained with them; and it was,
therefore, quite certain that he must leave.
When this should be, and where he would
go, were matters for reflection, and must be
arranged according to circumstances. He
must be constantly on the look out for a
better occupation, for if he did not find it
this week, he might next; and, his naturally
hopeful disposition assuring him of final
success, his eye brightened with the anti-
He had a father to be consulted; yet,
strange as it might seem at first sight, this
fact presented no important obstacle to his
imagination. No one, however, who knew
Jem Russell (as he was universally called),
would have been at all surprised at it. His
wife died when Frank was but a few months
old, and since that time he had led a wander-
ing and unsettled life, living in no place and
keeping to no employment long at a time.
Sometimes he would be working for a farmer


or following a drove of cattle, and again for
a few weeks acting as hostler at an inn.
Added to his roving propensity, and perhaps
one cause of it, was another and worse
habit,-the love of strong drink. If he
ever possessed any natural energy of cha-
racter, this habit had long since robbed him
of it, leaving scarcely sufficient strength of
mind to enable him to keep above actual
beggary. He called Evedon-the neigh-
bourhood where his son lived-his home,
and he occasionally returned to it when he
had earned a pound or two; but even then
his only child was scarcely noticed at all,
except in the bestowment of a few pennies
when in an unusually good humour.
Thus poor Frank had been early thrown
upon the tender mercies of the charitable,
and forced to shift for himself at the period
of life when other children are generally
guarded still by earnest parental care and
solicitude. Notwithstanding his father's
utter carelessness about his welfare, he had
a strong conviction that it would not be
proper to take any very important step with-
out telling him of it; although, as was said
before, he did not anticipate any difficulty


in gaining his consent. As he was in
the neighbourhood at that time, Frank
determined to take the opportunity of see-
ing him that very morning if possible. Ac-
cordingly, as soon as breakfast was over,
he got leave from Mrs. Conner to go and
see him.


FRANK sauntered slowly down the road to
the place where his father lodged, and as he
went, was still busily pondering his new
plans. The house was a good distance out
of the village, and a little way off the main
road. Mrs. Grey, the owner of it, took no
other boarders; but she was a distant con-
nexion of Jem Russell's mother, and kept
him only on account of an old friendship
which had existed between the two families.
She had outlived her husband and three
children, and her oddity of manner caused
her to lead a very retired life. Frank found
the old woman, who was an early riser,
already seated upon a bench in front of the
house, busily occupied with her knitting.
Well, Frank," she exclaimed, as he ap-
proached, "what brings you here at this
time in the morning, when you ought to be
at your work ?"
"I wanted to see father," replied Frank.


"Well, then, I fancy you can't do it,"
she said, sharply; for he isn't here to be
Can you tell me where I can find him,
unt?" he inquired, as with a very disap-
pointed look he was about to turn away.
What's the use of running off in such a
hurry?" said the old woman, quickly, (for
he had already reached the gate;) "your
father has only gone down to Nat Jones's
for a few minutes, and will be back before
you could get the length of the wood-pile,
maybe; and it would take a great deal to
make him hurry in that way after you."
Are you sure he'll be back soon ?" asked
Frank, taking a seat by her side.
Of course I am: did you ever know him
stay long in one place ?" said she, tartly.
Frank took up a piece of chip from the
ground, and began whittling it with the only
whole blade of an old knife, while the old
woman continued her knitting. Presently
she peered at him over the top of her glasses.
I suspect you and Mr. Conner have had
a few words," she said. Boys are always
quarrelling with somebody or other; and now
you've come to see if your father will help


you out of the scrape. But it isn't worth
while, I can tell you; for Jem Russell hasn't
wit enough to take care of himself, let alone
looking after a great, tall boy like you."
"No, aunt," replied Frank, promptly,
you're quite mistaken; I have never yet
quarrelled with Mr. Conner, and never in-
tend to if I can help it. Besides," he added,
a little proudly, "I expect to take care of
myself soon, without any one's help."
The old lady shrugged her shoulders and
muttered "Humph!" at this display of inde-
pendence, and again there was silence; for
though naturally talkative, Frank was never
disposed to say very much about his own
private affairs. But Mrs. Grey was possessed
of a pretty large stock of natural curiosity,
and the silence did not last long.
"If you want spending-money," she re-
sumed, this isn't the right place to come to
for it: James Russell never did and never
will have one halfpenny in his pocket to
spare for anybody."
I don't expect any money from father,"
Frank answered, in the same independent
manner. I mean to try and make a fortune
for myself "


A pretty fellow you are to talk of making
money," said the old woman, glancing down
upon him with a contemptuous expression,
as if measuring his size. "You had better
wait till you grow a little larger before you
begin to talk like a man."
"Why, aunt," replied Frank, good-hu-
mouredly, you called me a great, tall boy
not a minute ago!"
"Well, child, you may be too big for
some things and too little for others. But
what does bring you here at this time in the
morning ?"
'I wanted to talk to father about leaving
Mr. Conner," he replied, after a slight hesi-
There it is! Just as I have always said
boys are never satisfied,-always wanting a
But it isn't any harm for a boy to want
to make a change for the better; is it ?"
"' A rolling-stone gathers no moss.'"
A stone might lie for ever in one place,
too, without gathering any moss," returned
Frank, quietly.
There was another pause in the conversa-
tion, which was again broke by Mrs. Grey.


"Why don't you like Mr. Conner ?" she
"I do like Mr. Conner," was the answer.
Then why don't you like Mrs. Conner ?"
she continued.
"I like Mrs. Conner too; they have both
been very kind to me."
"Then why do you want to leave them ?"
"I don't like the business very well,"
said Frank, hesitatingly; "I would rather
do something better when I grow up to be
a man than keep a tavern; and now I think
it is time for me to begin looking out for it."
"Oh, I dare say you expect to sit idly,
with your hands in your pockets, while gold
and silver come pouring in upon you of their
own accord."
"No, I do not; I expect to have to work
harder a great deal than I do now; but I
don't care for that if I can only be---"
Rich and great;"-(he paused for a mo-
ment, and then added, what he had almost
forgotten,)-" and good too. I know I must
work hard to be all these, but I am ready
for it."
The knitting fell upon Mrs. Grey's lap,


and in the fall several stitches were dropped;
yet for once this was quite unheeded, while
ncr gaze was intently fixed upon the boy's
face. It was slightly turned from her, yet
she could easily see the expression of deep
and earnest purpose that glowed in every
feature. He evidently meant what he said,
and she believed him. Her whole manner
towards him was altered, when she again
addressed him; and but few of her acquaint-
ances would have recognized her in the new
character in which she now appeared.
"You are right, Frank," she said: "and
it would have been better, a great deal better,
for you, poor boy, if your father had had
something of your notions when he was your
age. But cheer up, lad, and keep a good
heart; if you are determined to try hard, and
don't get put down by trifles, there is no
doubt but you will succeed. Others have
done so, and why shouldn't you?"
"I am not afraid," he answered; "I am
strong and healthy, and there is nothing to
prevent my getting on in the world."
And never be afraid or discouraged,
Frank," she continued, with energy. If
you get a fall now and then, just make the


best of it. Get up again, and trudge along
as briskly as before."
Frank was about to reply, but the approach
of his father prevented it.
A careful observer would have been struck
with the great contrast between the father
and son. Years of habitual drunkenness
and idleness had marred the countenance
and figure of the former, while the latter
was still rejoicing in the buoyancy and
freshness of health and youth. Yet they
were not naturally alike; for in the days of
his youth, though possessing superior advan-
tages, James Russell had been lazy and care-
less, and had had scarcely sufficient energy
to awaken even a desire to be any better
than he was. If the father could have been
taken back to the days of his youth, and pre-
sented before you side by side with his son,
the difference would have been wide indeed.
Time and habit had not produced the con-
trast, although they had strengthened and
increased it.
"Well, Frank, my boy, what brings you
here this morning ?" he inquired, in an in-
different tone.
I came to see you, father, to talk with


you on business," replied Frank, after a
quick glance to ascertain whether his father
was sufficiently sober to converse rationally.
What's the matter now? I hope you
haven't got into any scrape withMr. Conner?"
returned Jem Russell, with some slight dis-
play of arrogance.
"No, father," answered Frank, "Mr
Conner and I agree very well; but I want to
leave him and try something else."
"What do you wan't to do ?" inquired
the father.
"I don't exactly know yet," replied Frank;
"but I should like to do something better;
one-half the time now I have nothing to do,
and the other half is spent in doing things
that are of no use to me, as I do not intend
to keep a tavern when I am a man."
The father looked a little surprised. He
took off his old hat, and placed it upon one
end of the flat step where he had seated
himself, and passed his fingers through his
"You are not one bit like me, Frank," he
said; I would just have stayed on with Mr.
Conner as long as he and I could have got on
comfortably together. If he chose to give me


enough to eat and drink for only half my
time, that would have been his business
and not mine; and I shouldn't have cared,-
not I!"
But I am wasting the time that might
be spent in learning what would be of use to
me by-and-by," replied Frank.
What do you want to do ?" his father
again asked, in an indifferent manner, and
as if but half understanding him after all.
I am not quite certain yet; but I want
to be looking out for something better,"
answered Frank.
"Well, I suppose I must let you do as
you please," said his father; "and when you
do make a change, if I am not here, you can
let Grandmother Grey know all about it, and
she will tell me where you are."
It was time for Frank to return to Mr.
Conner's; and he had reached the gate on
his way back, when Mrs. Grey called to
Here, Frank, is a shilling; and some
time this afternoon, when Mr. Conner can
spare you, I wish you'd bring me some wool
from the shop. Mr. Strongman knows the
kind I use for knitting."


Am I to buy a whole shilling's worth?"
inquired Frank.
"Yes; and tell him to give better weight
than he did last time, or I'll have a quarrel
with him when I see him; and to remember
to give me the smoothest skeins he has, for
I don't like knots."
Mrs. Grey's face now wore again the same
shrewish expression that it had done during
the first part of Frank's interview with her;
-the same, indeed, that it habitually wore.


IT was nearly dark when Frank had executed
Mrs. Grey's commission; and he once more
found her alone, his father having gone to
spend the evening with some of his com-
Here is your wool; and I hope it wil,
suit, for Mr. Strongman let me pick out the
very nicest," he said, as he handed her the
parcel done up in brown paper.
She shook out the wool, and examined it
as carefully as she could in the dusk.
"It looks pretty smooth; but did you
watch him weigh it? Shopkeepers give
light weight sometimes, and you've to keep
a sharp look-out that they don't cheat you."
"I don't believe Mr. Strongman would
cheat you," replied Frank. "I think 1
could trust to his honesty."
I dare say he is as good as any of them;
but, for my part, I like to watch them all.
and then I'm sure not to get cheated."


Father is not at home, I suppose ?" said
Frank, after a moment's pause.
No, nor ever is many minutes at a time,"
replied she. "But, Frank, if you expect
your father to help you get on in the world,
you'll be disappointed. It's more than he
could ever do for himself."
This was plain speaking; but Mrs. Grey
had only given expression to a fact of which
Frank was well aware.
I don't expect help from father," he
said;-and then, as his entire want of friends,
upon whom he could rely, flashed upon his
recollection, he added, "nor from any one
These last words were spoken in a tone
that touched a tender chord in Mrs. Grey's
bosom; for there were tender chords there,
although those who knew her but slightly
would scarcely have believed it.
"Isn't there some good, clever man that
you could talk to, who would be willing to
stand by you, and be your friend ?" she in-
"Yes, I know of one," replied Frank,-
instantly thinking of the kind and friendly


"Then why don't you see him?" she
asked hastily.
"I don't even know his name or where he
could be found," he answered. It was a
gentleman who stopped a little while at Mr.
Conner's door yesterday, and talked to me
in a nice sort of way. I think he would ,i -
be my friend, if I could only find him."
God will be your friend, if you are a
good boy, and say your prayers regularly,"
said Mrs. Grey, in a serious tone.
Mrs. Grey, as may be seen from these
words, was not an enlightened Christian, but
she was so far acquainted with the nature of
religion as to know that God has promised
to be a friend to the righteous; and Frank's
utter friendlessness affected her so deeply as
to make her desire that he should avail him-
self of the merciful offer. The boy was so
surprised to hear such language fall from her
lips, that he returned no answer.
"I hope you say your prayers regularly,"
she continued.
"I don't say them every night and morn-
ing," he replied; for I'm often in a hurry,
and sometimes I forget; but I do every now
and then."


"You ought to do it always," she said, in
the same serious tone; for you know you
have nobody to look to for help but God."
Both were silently engaged in reflection
for some minutes. Frank was looking over
the vast uncertain future that was before him.
In the far-off distance he could readily see
the bright light which he hoped some time
to reach; but the broad dark space that lay
between,-how should he travel safely over
that, unguided and alone? His faith was
not strong enough to grasp the truth of God's
promised protection, and there was no human
arm upon which he could rely.
His companion had another subject for
contemplation. Her thoughts were wander-
ing far back to the past,-the days of her
childhood and youth. She was once more
seated, in fancy, beside the huge fire-place
of a comfortable farm-house. Not far off
sat a boy nearly her own age, with a serious
cast of countenance, studiously conning the
pages of a Bible The blazing fire shed a
brilliant light over the boy and his book.
Since then no household-hearth had ever
appeared to Mrs. Grey so comfortable, nor
had any flame ever thrown out such beautiful


radiance as that one. The boy was her
only brother, and, though young in years,
a firm and consistent follower of the Re-
deemer. Her mind passed rapidly over the
lapse of years, until it reached the time when
that boyish figure had grown to manhood's
height, and she herself had reached maturity.
Again they were side by side; but now his
face wore a pained expression, as he tried to
convince her of an error which she was about
to commit; while she, stubbornly refusing
to be convinced, angrily defied him. A
gloomy cloud rested upon the subsequent
years, which she did not wish that even her
own memory should penetrate. Since then
she and her brother had been almost as
strangers to each other. For a very long
time she had deeply resented his interference
with her projects; and although, ere long,
circumstances must have compelled her to
admit that it would have been better if she
had followed his advice, yet she had never
been willing to acknowledge it openly, or
seek a reconciliation. She knew, however,
that he was still living at the old homestead,
and that through the long course of years he
had never once swerved from the religious


principles which he had adopted in his youth.
She felt sure that he would be a safe guide
for Frank, if she could only manage to get
the boy under his protection.
"Would you be willing to work for a
farmer ?" she asked.
"I should be willing to do anything," he
quickly replied; adding, almost immediately,
-"at least, anything that would be re-
Again there was silence. Mrs. Grey was
wondering how she could contrive to place
him under her brother's care. The place
was nearly twenty miles off, and it would
cost no trifle to get himr there. Mrs. Grey
was very careful in spending money, and she
was thinking she should have to advance a
still larger sum than this; yet her main
difficulty did not lie here. To be the means
of introducing him at all to her brother's
notice, was an overture of peace. It required
a strong effort to bring down her pride of
heart sufficiently to do this; but to take him
there herself, and be thus brought face to
face with her brother, was more than she
was prepared for. Before she could decide
which was the best course for her to pursue,


ner musings were disturbed by Frank's in-
Do you know of any farmer who wants
a boy?"
"No, not exactly," she replied; "but I
know one very good farmer, and I was just
wishing that he would take you, and wonder-
ing how I could manage to get you to him."
"Who is he, aunt? and where does he
live ?" he asked, eagerly.
It is my brother. He lives at our old
home, some fifteen or twenty miles from
It seemed strange to Frank to think of
Mrs. Grey as being any one's sister. She
had lived so much alone, and appeared so
entirely without family-ties, that he could
scarcely imagine such a near relationship
between her and any other human being
had ever existed. Some days before, Mrs.
Grey's brother would not have seemed to
him a very desirable person to live with;
but her recent kindness led him now to
regard the proposal in a very different light.
"My brother is a very good man," she
continued,-" not at all like me, for he is
very religious, and would teach you a great


many things, besides farming, that would be
very useful to you. Do you think you would
like to live with him?"
Oh, yes! very much," replied Frank,
quickly and heartily.
"I rather think he would take you for
my sake," she answered: although I haven't
seen him for many a long year, and we did
not part very good friends."
"What is his name? and where does he
live ?" repeated Frank.
"His name is George Thorne, and he
lives a little on the other side of Grantham.
When do you expect to leave Mr. Conner's?"
"I haven't made up my mind yet," re-
turned Frank. "I should like to go pretty
soon; but it wouldn't do to leave Mr. Conner
till he has some one in my place."
That's right, my boy; never do a mean
trick to any one as long as you live, and
then you'll have nothing to be ashamed of,"
replied Mrs. Grey, with energy. Give Mr.
Conner fair notice, and let him look out for
another lad. He needn't look far, I'm sure;
for they're not scarce in these parts, any
more than the blackberries are scarce on the
bushes. It was only yesterday, when I had


turned my back for a little while, that half-
a-dozen or more of them got into my garden,
and nearly stripped my best cherry-tree.
And one evening last week I wondered my
cow didn't come home; I called, and called,
till I was hoarse, but could see nothing of
her. At last I heard her bellowing a long
way off in the wood, and I went to see what
was the matter with her. After a hard
search, I found her tied fast to a tree with a
thick rope, and the poor thing had been try-
ing to get loose till she was quite worn
out. The rogues! I only wish I could
catch'em some time, I'd pay'em well, that I
would !"
"It was too bad," said Frank, taking the
very first opportunity to put a stop to the
new topic Mrs. Grey had introduced; for he
knew that of her own accord she would not
soon leave off.
"But I'm afraid I shall have to wait a
long time," he continued, before I can get
money enough to take me so far as Gran-
"How much have you?"
"Two and sixpence," he replied; "and
I know that's not enough; but there's a good


bit likely to come in next week, as so mania
will be going t. Lincoln races."
"The more fools they," said the old
woman: but, true enough, as the saying
is, A fool and his money are soon parted.'
Don't you get running after such nonsense,
"No, aunt, I'm not likely to do that, I
think. Only let me get into the way of
making money, and I'll spend it on some-
thing else than wagering and laying bets."
"Well, just tell Mr. Conner what you
are thinking of, and then drop in and see m
about it," said Mrs (Gr.



" WHY, you surely don't mean to run off and
leave me in such a hurry? I'm sure I've
always tried to do well by you!"
Frank had just told Mr. Conner of his
new plan; and the above was the answer
he received.
I don't intend to leave you till you have
been able to get another boy in my place,"
replied Frank.
There was considerable surprise as well as
annoyance expressed in Mr. Conner's manner,
when he gave his first answer; but now he
spoke in his usual tone:-
"Well, don't be in a hurry. I'll see about
another boy after a while."
"I hope you will see about him as soot
as you can, if you please, sir; for I want to
leave the first good opportunity," replied
Frank. But before he had done speaking,
his master was out of hearing.


A fortnight passed away, and everything
seemed to be going on as usual. Mr. Conner
made no allusion to Frank's leaving; nor
(so far as Frank could ascertain) had he
made inquiries for any one to fill his place.
This silence was extremely awkward; and,
if the boy had not fully made up his mind
as to his future course, he would have been
tempted to continue where he was, and say
nothing more about it. But this would not
do; and he determined once more to open
the subject to his employer.
"Have you heard of any boy yet who
will take my place, Mr. Conner ?" he said,
one day, when he found him alone.
I didn't think it worth while to be in a
hurry," he replied, in an indifferent tons;
"but I'll look round some time soon."
Frank did not like the manner in which
this answer was given. He began to fear
that he was likely to meet a formidable
obstacle where he had not expected it.
I am sorry to leave you, for some reasons,
Mr. Conner," he said; "but I must go;
and I should be very glad if you would get
some one in my place soon, for I can be
ready to go now at any time."


I'll see about it," Mr. Conner replied,
in the same careless tone as before.
Another week passed; Frank began to
grow quite disheartened, and consulted his
" aunt" as to what he should do. Mrs. Grey
grumbled awhile at Mr. Conner's perverse
delay; but she had too keen a love of justice
to advise Frank to do anything that was not
perfectly fair and open.
Just tell him to-night," she said, that
you must go away in a week's time; that
you hope he may find some one to take your
place before then; but that if he does not,
it can make no difference in your arrange-
ments. He has had plenty of time already;
and I am sure there is no scarcity of boys
good enough to water horses and carry pots
of beer for him. I'll see about getting your
things ready for you," she continued, finding
Frank hesitate. You do just as I tell you,
and I'll attend to all the rest."
The lad did as she told him, and in so
decided a manner that Mr. Conner felt,
annoying as it might be to dispense with
his services, he must submit. He differed
from Mrs. Grey in believing that Frank's
place could be readily filled: and he would


willingly, if possible, not only have postpone
the time of his departure, but prevented it
The end of the week came, and Frank
began his preparations for leaving. His
amount of worldly goods was so small, that
it did not require much time to pack up in
a cotton-handkerchief what remained, after
having reserved the suit he was to wear in
travelling. When this was done, he called
to pay a farewell-visit to Mrs. Grey and his
father. The latter was just about to leave
the cottage when Frank entered.
I've come to bid you good-bye, father,'"
he said; and his voice faltered, as he began
to feel that "good-bye" was a harder word
to say than he had expected.
"Why, you're not going already, boy,
are you ?" said his father, with some little
"Yes, I'm going away early to-morrow
morning, and I was afraid I should'nt have
time to see you before the stage leaves."
"What stage? Where are you going?"
tsked Russell.
He had already been told; but, owing to
the half-stupefied condition in which he


happened to be at the time, he had s-arcely
heard it.
"The stage for Grantham, father. 1 am
going to Mrs. Grey's brother."
Oh, ho! Well, I suppose he's a clever
man, though a little too strict in some of his
ways. But good-bye, Frank. Take care of
yourself, and be a good boy. I dare say
we shall meet some time or other."
He held out his hand almost mechani-
cally, and Frank took it, while a momentary
feeling of disappointment chilled him to the
heart. Unconsciously he had hoped, that
when it came to the parting, his only re-
maining parent would have exhibited some
slight token of fatherly affection. Frank
was not a child of God, or he might have been
comforted by a heavenly Father's promise:-
" When my father and my mother forsake
me, then the Lord will take me up."
He was looking sorrowfully down the
road, as his father went away from him,
when Mrs. Grey's voice attracted his atten-
"Well, you've at last managed to get
clear of Mr. Conner," she said. I'm glad
of it; and now I want you to come in here,


that I may show you what I've got ready
for you."
Frank went into the inner room; and
there, spread out upon the table, he saw
various articles of clothing, which, at a
glance, he saw were meant for himself. He
also perceived that they were of much better
material than any he had been accustomed
to wear.
Oh, Aunt Grey! you are very kind!"
he exclaimed; but the old woman stopped
"I'm not rich," she said; "but I've got
enough to keep me above want as long as I
live, and I've no one to save up for, and
I wanted you to look nice when you go over
to your grandmother's old. neighbourhood,
that you mightn't disgrace her memory."
"Did my grandmother live near your
brother ?" inquired Frank.
"Yes; and your grandfather lived in a
pretty house in the town,-as nice a house
as it then had. He was a doctor, a very
clever man, and made a good living by his
practice; but he died before he could lay by
much, and your grandmother was too easy
and good-natured to have the care of such a


bad, lazy boy as your father was; so she let
him do pretty much as he pleased, and you
see what has come of it. Poor woman!
she died before he was quite grown up, and
to the last she was so blind to his faults as
to believe it almost impossible he could ever
turn out to be anything but good !"
Frank's eye brightened, and his cheek
glowed, at the idea that his grandfather had
lived in a nice house, and filled an honourable
and respectable position in the community;
while his own purpose of attaining a similar
eminence in the future grew stronger than
ever. He asked many questions about his
grandparents, and Mrs. Grey's answers satis-
fied him that they were far superior in social
position to any of those with whom he had
been accustomed to mingle. One more
anxious inquiry he made; it was about his
mother; he so longed to know something
about her. But Mrs. Grey was unable to
gratify him. All she knew of her was that
she was a delicate, mild-looking creature,
quite unfit to bear the hardships of the life
she had chosen.
This last evening that he was to spend
with his old friend passed more rapidly to


Frank than any preceding one; and he
was surprised when the striking of the old-
fashioned clock in the corner warned him
that it was time to go. Mrs: Grey packed
up the new clothes she had prepared for
him, in a small trunk, which she gave him
as an additional present; when this was
done, and he had warmly thanked her, he
stood up to take leave.
What shall I say to Mr. Thorne for you,
Aunt Grey ?" he inquired.
Mrs. Grey busied herself in fastening the
lock of the trunk, and the expression of her
face seemed designed to indicate that her
thoughts were wholly fixed upon that one
object; but a slight quivering of the lips
showed that some deeper feeling was at
work in her heart, as she replied-
Tell him I've not quite forgotten that
we were children together, and once sat at
the same table, though many years have
gone by since then."
Frank held out his hand.
Good-bye, Aunt Grey," he said; "you've
been a kind friend to me, and I shall never
forget it."
Be always a good boy," she answered,


pressing his hand; I shall miss you very
much,-more than you think, perhaps."
The last words were spoken so tremulously
that Frank involuntarily looked up, and saw
that there were tears in her eyes, which she
was vainly endeavouring to conceal. He
did not trust himself to say anything further;
but, after another silent pressure of the hand,
turned to go. He had proceeded some distance
along the road, when he laid down his trunk,
and stopped to look back. The cottage-
door was still open; and by the light from
the inside, he could perceive Mrs. Grey still
standing where he had left her, as if intently
looking after him.
Never in all my life will I do anything
that shall make her think less of me than
she now does," he said to himself, with
energy; and then, taking up the trunk, he
continued his walk.


" COME! are you all ready there ? The
stage doesn't wait, you know."
Frank was taking a rather protracted
leave of several members of Mr. Conner's
family, who had gone over with him to
meet the coach on the Sleaford road, for the
purpose of seeing him off. Now that it had
come to the point, it seemed harder to go
than he had imagined it would be. For a
moment he was half inclined to give up his
new plan:-it appeared so much easier for
him to stay where he then was, and let
things take their course. What if, after all,
he made up his mind to do so? The words
of the kind traveller instantly recurred to
his memory, in the same quiet yet impres-
sive tones in which they had been uttered:-
"All you have to do is to remain as you
now are, and you may slide into that condi-
tion naturally enough." Yes; it would be
much easier for him to stay at home, idling


his time away, until he should become a con-
firm'ed vagabond: but would this be right?
Maybe you won't go, after all," said
Mrs. Conner, seeing his irresolution, and
half hoping she might even yet prevail upon
him to stay.
A moment before, it would have seemed
to require but a few more such words to
induce him to remain. But now he whis-
pered inwardly, with fresh determination,
"I cannot stay here at so great a risk."
His answer to Mrs. Conner was prevented
by the resolute call of Ben, the stage-driver;
and, with a hasty Good-bye to all," he
jumped upon the box. A few minutes after-
wards he was rolling rapidly away from old
scenes and old associations;--perhaps for
ever. This thought haunted him unplea-
santly for a while, particularly as they passed
the lonely lane that led to Mrs. Grey's house,
and he strained his eyes to catch a faint
glimpse of the chimney visible between the
trees. A slender wreath of smoke was curl-
ing from its top, and slowly floating away.
Aunt Grey is having her breakfast, and,
I dare say, she is thinking of me," he said
tc himself, with inward satisfaction, pleased


at the thought of being an object of interest
to any one.
Something just then made Ben suddenly
draw up. Frank had been too deeply in-
terested in his musings to observe the cause
of it; and now, before he had time for re-
flection, he heard his own name.
Oh, Aunt Grey, I'm so glad to see you
once again!" he exclaimed, with surprise
and pleasure.
Mrs. Grey leaned over the side of the
stage, and, placing a small packet in his
hand, whispered-
Here, Frank; I quite forgot to give you
this last night. Use it carefully, and don't
let people cheat you. You needn't buy
your dinner, for here" (putting another and
larger packet upon his lap) is something foi
you to eat, as they always overcharge at inns."
Frank had hardly time to utter his thanks,
when she .was gone and the stage was again
on its way. The smaller packet contained
money: he knew that by the feel of it; so
he slipped it quietly into his waistcoat-
pocket. With a sensitiveness natural to
him, he disliked the idea of having any
third person aware of its contents. The


larger parcel could not be so easily con-
cealed, nor was he so anxious about it.
The old woman has got to be very care
ful of you lately, young chap," said Ben,
looking down upon the packet in his lap.
Yes," replied Frank; she has been
very kind to me."
"But she's a crabbed, hard sort of old
body, at the best," returned Ben.
I don't think so," said Frank, warmly;
"she is very good-hearted indeed."
"Very stingy, and hard as a flint," per-
sisted Ben.
Indeed, you're mistaken," replied her
champion, with increased warmth. "If you
knew her as well as I do, you would know
she's very generous and kind."
"Anything but old Mother Grey getting
a character for generosity !" exclaimed Ben,
with an unbelieving laugh.
Frank's face was of a deeper crimson.
He was indignant at the charges against his
friend; but, feeling that it would be useless
to attempt arguing the point, and yet de-
termined to let it be seen that his own
opinion remained unchanged, he replied-
You may think what you please, Ben;


I can't help it. But Mrs. Grey has been as
kind to me as if I had been her own child."
Oh, well, we won't quarrel about the
old woman; if she's been good to you I'm
glad to hear of it, and it's quite right for
you to stand up for her: I like you all the
better for it."
As if to convince Frank that he had no
ill-feeling towards him on account of their
differing in their opinion of Mrs. Grey, Ben
took extra pains to entertain him by point-
ing out various places of interest on the
road, and relating many little incidents
which had happened to him in the course
of his life as a stage-driver. They had gone
a few miles, when he reined up the horses
in front of a public-house.
"You're not going to stop so soon, are
you, Ben ?"
Yes; I always stop here a few minutes
to water the horses, you see."
I don't believe the horses want water
already," observed Frank.
Well, if they don't want water, we must
let them breathe, you know. And you'd
better get down, too," added Ben, and
stretch your legs a bit: riding on the top


ot a stage is tiresome to them that's not
used to it."
Frank did not feel at all tired; but he
determined to follow Ben's advice, for the
purpose of looking round him for a little
while. The coachman proceeded straight
to the tap-room, while Frank stood before
the door, looking over a handbill, which
contained some brilliantly-coloured pictures
illustrating the wonderful agility of a famous
rope-dancer, who was expected to perform
in the neighbourhood in a few days. He
had not quite finished it, when Ben inter-
rupted him:-
Come, young master,take a drink. What
would you like to have ?"
Frank turned, and had advanced half-way
across the room, when his eye fell upon a
figure very like the one to which the kind
traveller had directed his attention at Mr.
Conner's,-a miserable, wretched toper, such
as may be found in almost every neighbour-
hood. Frank started back. He no longer
hesitated as to whether he should accept Ben's
offer. This warning vision decided him.
I've not got out of danger yet," he
whispered to himself.


Come, say what you'll have ?" repeated
A glass of water," replied Frank.
With a little gin and sugar to give it a
relish ?"
"No; a good glass of cold water doesn't
need anything to give it a relish," answered
Frank, following the example of his old
friend the traveller, although not using the
very same words.
Nonsense," said Ben, looking annoyed.
"Come; take something."
Frank wavered for an instant, not wish-
ing to offend the good-natured driver. But
a moment's reflection made him as resolute
as ever. He would much rather be like
the gentlemanly traveller than the poor
disgusting creature whom he saw before
I will take nothing but water," he re-
plied firmly; "for I'm determined never to
be a drunkard, if I can help it."
The boy's more than half right," said a
voice from behind him.
Frank turned, and saw a woman, who
was standing at a door which opened into
the sitting-room, and who had been an un-


observed listener to the conversation. It
was the inn-keeper's wife.
"I'll give him a glass of fresh water, if
no one else will," she continued, filling a
tumbler, and handing it to him.
He thanked her, drank it, and then re-
turned quietly to his seat on the box.
"A queer sort of a boy that must be!'"
said the bar-maid.
"Yes; there's no such thing as making
him do what he don't mean to do," replied
Ben. "But, however," he added, not wish-
ing to do him injustice, he's a very clever
boy, with no mother, and a drunken fellow
of a father."
Heaven help him !" ejaculated the land-
lady; for she was a mother, and knew how
to sympathize with the motherless and the
Ben gave way to no open or violent anger
when he returned to his old station; yet his
silent and reserved manner presented quite
a contrast to his usual chattiness. He did
not ask Frank to alight at the next stopping-
place, nor to drink with him; yet this was
in fact a relief, as Frank very much dis-
liked being obliged to refuse what was in-


tended as a kindness. When they stopped
to change horses and to lunch, Frank looked
out a quiet spot where he might eat his
own meal unobserved. Then, for the first
time, he found a convenient opportunity of
examining the smaller packet which Mrs.
Jrey had given him. The contents amounted
in all to one pound. He had been able
himself to pay the stage-fare through to
Grantham, and had even a trifle over; so
he should not be obliged to break in just
yet upon Mrs. Grey's present. It might
have been a temptation to most boys to spend
the money in selfish gratification; but Frank
had been thrown upon his own resources so
early in life as to accustom him to habits of
self-denial, and teach him the necessity of
strict economy at an age when most boys
know but little of the importance of money.
I must take good care of this, for it may
oi a long time before I get any more," he
said, as he folded it up carefully and re-
placed it in his pocket.
The horn was blown to let the passengers
know that the stage was ready, and Frank
hurried back to the inn to see after his trunk,
secure his seat, and bid good-ble to Ben;


for he had now reached the place wheie he
met the Grantham coach. The trunk was
in the new driver's hand, and Ben was
giving him directions about putting it in
front of the stage, when Frank appeared.
That is Frank Russell, the owner of this
here trunk," said Ben. You must take
good care of him, Jones, for he's a pretty
good boy, although he came rather hard
down upon me a while ago, and I was half
inclined to get angry with him."
Frank's countenance brightened up at
this speech of Ben's, and he held out his
hand to bid farewell.
Good-bye, Ben," he said, while tears
moistened his eyes at the thought of parting
with this last familiar face.
Good-bye," replied Ben. I hope you
may find good friends where you're going;
I dare say you may grow up to be a con-
siderable gentleman after a while, and quite
forget poor old Ben Thomas."
"No, no, Ben! I could never forget you
as long as I live!"
"Ah, well! time brings strange changes!'
said Ben, as he helped Frank to climb up to
his seat.


The stage rattled on, bearing him away
from the last person that reminded him of
Evedon; and now he was completely sur-
rounded by new scenes and new faces. For
the first time, feelings of doubt and dread
crept over him. Perhaps it might have been
better to have remained with Mr. Conner!
Had he not been too easily led to follow
Mrs. Grey's advice? People thought Mr.
Thorne strict, and he might find him a
severe and hard master! Or, perhaps, he
might refuse to employ him: what should
he do then ? Mrs. Grey had assured him
that the fact of her sending him would be
enough to induce her brother to see after his
welfare; but she had not met that brother
for years, and, accol ding to her own account,
they had not paited friends. It seemed
wonderful to him now, that he had ever
consented to leave Evedon under such cir-
cumstances. It was too late for him to turn
back, however; he must look forward to
meeting Mr. Thorne, and facing the danger,
whatever it might be. And what was he
to do, if his fears should prove well-founded?
Take care of myself, or, at least, try to
do so," he said, with energy, as his natural


feeling of independence regained its in-
fluence. There was no need to fear, he
thought. He would hand Mr. Thorne the
small slip of paper upon which Mrs. Grey
had written a few words to tell where he
came from, aind to prevent the possibility
of his story being doubted. If the farmer
did not choose to employ him, well and
good;-there were others who might be glad
to do so, and he would try somewhere else.
Are you going all the way to Grantham?"
inquired the driver.
Yes," said Frank; "I understood Mrs.
Grey that her brother lived at the other end
of the town. Do you know Mr. Thorne ?"
Oh, yes, there aren't many folks in
these parts that don't know him."
"What sort of a man is he ?"
I like him right well. Some folks thinI
him a leetle too strait-laced in his notions;
but I never saw that it hurt him any."
Frank fell into another train of thought,
suggested by that one word "strait-laced;"
and wondered what sort of a person lie
should find in Mr. Thorne.



Tlii sun, which had been overclouded for the
last hour, now burst forth, gilding with its
rays the trees, fields, and houses. The town
looked very pleasant and cheerful; but Frank
scarcely observed it as the stage rattled along
the main street. He was too deeply engaged
in thinking how Mr. Thorne would probably
receive him. It was strange; but even the
recollection that his grandfather had once
lived there was quite forgotten, until some-
thing suddenly reminded him of it.
"Have you lived here long?" he inquired
of the driver.
"Yes; I was born in this town."
Frank looked at the man for the purpose
of judging whether he was old enough to
be able to give him the information he
wanted. One glance proved quite satis-
factory: the shrivelled, time-worn face of
the man looked old enough to have seen two
o three generations.


My grandfather lived here a very long
time ago," he said. His name was Russell
Could you show me the house where he
lived ? Mrs. Grey told me he was a doctor."
"Well, now!" exclaimed the driver, in
some surprise, looking intently at Frank
whilee he spoke; "I should never have
thought of your being Dr. Russell's grandson!
Yes, I can show you where he lived in a few
minutes. The house is just a leetle ahead;
you might see it now, if it wasn't for the
A moment's pause, and he added quickly-
Here it is, on the right side of the road,-
The quick glance, which Frank was able
to take, disclosed to him a beautifully-culti-
vated space of ground, ornamented with fine
trees, through the branches of which he
could discern a large, substantial stone house
To his inexperienced eye the place looked
most magnificent.
Oh, what beautiful trees!" he exclaimed,
"Yes, there are some very nice trees in
that place," replied the coachman; "and
Dr. Russell planted every one of them."


I wonder if I shall ever grow rich enough
to buy it," said Frank to himself. Then
almost immediately he added, "I'll try:
other poor boys have grown rich; why should
not I?"
This new thought turned his attention for
a time from the awkwardness of his approach-
ing interview with Mr. Thorne.
Here is my stopping-place," said the
driver, drawing up before an inn much
larger and more stylish than Mr. Conner's.
"How far is this from Mr. Thorne's; and
which way must I take ?" inquired Frank.
"It's not very far," replied the driver.
"Keep on this road till you come to the
first farm-house on the left. You'll know
it by the large barn and stables."
Frank took up his trunk, bade good-bye
to the driver, and went on his way, his mind
filled with the old feeling of discomfort.
"I wish it was all over!" he exclaimed,
"even if Mr. Thorne had refused to take me."
Very soon a large barn and other out-
ouildings met his eye, and he felt that his fate
would soon be decided. There was a large,
pleasant-looking, white house,-larger than
he had expected to see. The broad walk was


neatly gravelled, and bordered with pretty
flowers, while the smooth lawn was decorated
with a pleasing variety of fine spreading trees.
He paused anxiously at the gate, while he
got out the little note of introduction which
Mrs. Grey had given him. A moment's
thought re-assured him. He had nothing to
fear; let what would happen, he felt able to
take care of himself; so, with a firm hand
ae opened the gate, and entered the enclosure.
'Then, for the first time, he observed that
under a tree on the lawn there was grouped
a lively family-party. He walked hastily
up, and presented his paper to the elderly
gentleman, whom he rightly presumed to be
Mr. Thorne. The latter took it, read its
contents, passed his hand rapidly across his
eyes, and seemed slightly agitated for a few
moments. Then, handing the paper to his
wife, who sat near, he turned to Frank, and
inquired, in a clear, distinct tone-
"When did you last see Mrs. Grey ?"
This morning, after I had left Evedon."
Why did you leave Evedon ?" was the
next question. "Mrs. Grey only says that
you wanted to change your place."
I was living with Mr. Conner, who keeps


the public-house, and I wanted to get into
some better employment," answered Frank.
His embarrassment was vanishing, and he
was fast recovering his natural manner.
Why didn't you like that line of busi-
ness ?" asked Mr. Thorne.
I don't think it a very respectable one,"
answered Frank. "Besides, I was a little
afraid that I might myself take to drinking."
You are James Russell's son, I under-
stand. Where is he now?"
He is at Evedon. My mother has been
dead for a long time,-longer than 1 can
recollect; and my father---"
Here Frank paused. He felt a great
dislike to telling his father's faults where it
was not needful they should be known; but
Mr. Thorne was waiting for him to finish;
so he continued:-
"My father couldn't help me any, so I
had to go away and try for myself; and
Aunt Grey-I always called her aunt-said
that she was sure, if you wanted a boy, you
would take me when you knew she sent me."
Mr. Thorne seemed to be in deep thought,
but soon said, in a hesitating manner-
I am not particularly in need of a boy


just now. Indeed, my custom is to hire
none but men."
But maybe I might be able to do as
much as some men," replied Frank. "I
know a great deal about horses, and Mr.
Conner was very sorry to have me go away."
"How old are you?"
"Past fourteen; in my fifteenth year.
But, if you don't think you have enough
work, and don't want me, perhaps you might
know of some one in the neighbourhood who
would like to have me."
"Suppose we wait till I have had time
to think the matter over," answered Mr.
Thorne. And in the mean while, mother,"
he continued, turning to his wife, I dare
say Frank is hungry. Couldn't you give him
something to eat, and a bed to-night ?"
Frank turned for the first time, and looked
up at Mrs. Thorne. Her's was not a young
face by any means; but it wore so sweet an
expression, and the mild blue eyes looked so
kindly upon him, that it was beautiful in
his view. He thought his own mother
must have had just such a countenance.
She left them for a few minutes, and then
returned and asked the new-comer to follow


her. He did so, and was taken into a room
where a table was spread with the whitest
cloth he had ever seen; and upon it were
some nice biscuits, cold ham, and stewed
fruit. He was hungry, and ate heartily; it
seemed to him to be the best meal he had
ever tasted. Mrs. Thorne sat beside him,
asking him questions, and talking kindly to
him all the time. She was not less kind
than Mrs. Grey had been, but was much
more gentle and refined in her manner.
Come with me, and I will show you your
room," she said, when Frank had finished
his dinner and was rising from table.
He followed her up-stairs to a small but
cheerful-looking room over the kitchen.
neatly and plainly furnished with every ne-
cessary convenience, and in all respects
vastly superior to the one he had at Mr.
Conner's. There was a small book-shelf in
one corner of the room, containing a Bible
and several good books. Frank hastily
glanced at their titles; after which he washed
his face and hands, and brushed some of the
dust from his clothes. When this was done,
he went in search of Mr. Thorne, to whom
he had not vet delivered Mrs. Grey's last


message. He found him still where he was
before; while his youngest child, a little girl
several years younger than Frank, was seated
on his knee.
"Mrs. Grey told me to tell you, sir, that
although so many years have passed since
she saw you, she has not quite forgotten
that you were children of the same father
and mother," said Frank, repeating Mrs.
Grey's words as nearly as he could recollect
Mr. Thorne stroked his little daughter's
hair, and returned no answer; but Frank
saw that his face looked grave and serious
Mrs. Thorne turned to a pleasant-looking
boy, rather older than Frank, and said-
Frank Russell spoke just now of having
had the charge of horses. Suppose, George,
you take him to see your new colt? But
do not stay too long, and be sure you are
in by tea-time.
George laid aside the book he had been
reading, and the two boys went together to
the stable. The colt was a very beautiful
animal, and Frank was very much pleased
with it; yet there was something that won
his admiration even more than this. It was


the quiet, gentlemanly behaviour of George
Thorne,-so like that of the kind traveller
whose words had induced him to leave Mr.
Conner. He wondered at this resemblance,
not knowing that it was because they were
both influenced by a lively spirit of benevo-
lence, and of active kindliness toward all
around them.
While George was showing the various
objects of interest about the barn and stables,
his parents were holding a consultation in
reference to the best plan to be pursued with
regard to the stranger.
Do you mean to keep Frank Russell ?"
"I don't know what to say about it."
Mr. Thorne replied slowly and deliberately,
as if trying to make up his mind while he
answered her question. "I should like to
Jo him a kindness for his grandfather's sake
as well as his own; but I have a sufficient
number of hands at present to do all my
work; and it would be a doubtful kindness
to the boy to keep him here in idleness."
I thought you told me that Roberts was
going to leave you, when his week is up,"
said Mrs. Thorne.
Yes, Roberts did say that he intended to


follow a trade. But Roberts is eighteen, and
can do a man's work., while this is a mere
Poor child He seems anxious to work,
and quite confident of being able to do it,
Couldn't you try him for a few days ? Per
haps, by making a different arrangement of
the work, you might get on with his assist-
ance, instead of hiring a new man."
Mr. Thorne shook his head.
There is one objection to your plan,
which you seem to have lost sight of entirely,"
*he said. "Roberts did not board with us,
but if I were to take a boy like this, who has
no parent to see after him, I should think it
ny duty to take him into my own family
and attend to his welfare, as I should wish
another to do to my own boy, if he were
placed in similar circumstances."
"Certainly," Mrs. Thorne returned, quietly.
"But what then ?"
"It would increase your cares consider-
Mrs. Thorne was silent for a few mo-
ments, as if considering something in her
own mind.
"You would probably find the trouble


much greater than the profit in taking charge
of this boy; and you do well to hesitate
about it," continued her husband.
I was not hesitating," she replied," but
thinking over the kindness of God to us
lately. How He has seemed to bless you in
everything, and prosper all your under-
takings ; so that now we have not only abun-
dance for ourselves, but enough to spare for
another! I could not help thinking of the
text we heard preached from, a few weeks
ago:-' If thy brother be waxen poor, and
fallen in decay with thee, then thou shalt
relieve him: yea, though he be a stranger,
or a sojourner: that he may live with thee;'
-and also of the striking passage that was
read in the course of the sermon,-out of
Deuteronomy, I think it was:-' Thou shalt
surely give him, and thine heart shall not
be grieved when thou givest unto him:
because thatfor this thing the Lord thy God .
shall bless thee in all thy works, and in all
that thou puttest thy hand unto.' I was
wondering whether it had not been that God
had prospered us purposely that we might
have it in our power to help this poor boy
He giveth to the beast his food, and to the


young ravens which cry. Not even a sparrow
may fall to the ground without His notice.
Then certainly He has been caring for this
poor, deserted, motherless child, and has
sent him to us for our sympathy and aid."
"You are right," replied Mr. Thorne.
"This is an opportunity of doing good which
Providence has thrown in our way to be im-
proved and accounted for. We will, at all
events, keep Frank, until some better situa-
tion offers; and in the meanwhile we will
try to do our duty by him. I hope, however,
that his principles are good; for, although I
believe George to be a true child of-God,
and under the influence of restraining grace,
still I should not wish him to be unneces-
sarily exposed to the temptations of evil com-
I dare say the boy will have many bad
habits to overcome," answered Mrs. Thorne;
" for he has not been placed in a situation
where he was likely to learn much that is
good. But, from the interest your sister has
taken in him, and from the little I have seen
of him already, I am inclined to believe that
he wishes to do what is right, and that he
will prove an apt scholar."


Mr. Thorne expressed a hope that his wife's
impressions might prove correct; and they
went on to converse about other subjects,
until, at the appointed hour, the boys came
in sight. As Mr. Thorne looked at the fine
open countenance of the stranger, the hope
increased almost to a certainty. After making
a few inquiries as to what Frank had seen,
and what he thought of the horses, Mrs.
Thorne proposed that they should have tea
on the lawn; after which they immediately
went into the sitting-room for worship. This
they always had at an early hour, that
neither the children nor the servants might
be too weary to pay attention. Frank un-
derstood but imperfectly what this term
"worship" meant; but he saw that he was
expected to follow the family, and he did so



IHE gathering of a household for the put.
pose of seeking the blessing of the Lord was
something new and strange to Frank; but
he supposed this to be one of the peculiarities
which he had heard attributed to Mr. Thorne,
and he set himself to observe with attention
all that went on. The chapter read was the
fifteenth of Luke, which contains the beauti-
ful story of the Prodigal Son; and although
he did not understand its full meaning, he
could see enough of its beauty to be greatly
interested in it. He knelt with the others
during the prayer that followed, and listened
to the words of each petition that was offered;
yet his feeling was only that of a curious
spectator, not that of an humble and earnest
When the service was over, he felt an
awkward sense of discomfort; it seemed to
him as if he did not belong to the group, and
had no right to be among them. As he stood


a little apart from the rest, uncertain what
to do, Ellen Thoine, the little girl before
alluded to, left her father's side, and, walk-
ing timidly towards him, took hold of his
hand. There was something very winning
in her half-friendly, half-shy manner, and
Frank involuntarily clasped the hand which
was laid so confidingly within his own. She
raised her eyes to his, a d said-
This is my home. Don't you think it a
very nice place ?"
Yes; I think it is."
"Have you a home of your own ?" she
The artless question of the little girl
awakened a new train of thought in Frank's
mind; and, for the first time in his life, he
was fully conscious of the utter desolateness
of his situation in having no home. Almost
all people that he had ever met had some
place that they might call by that name; but
if Mr. Thorne should not see fit to keep him,
there was no house to which he could go with
the knowledge that its doors would be open
to welcome, or even to receive him. As
these thoughts passed rapidly through his
mind, a sad feeling of loneliness crept over


him, and almost forced the tears from his
eyes. It was said by the great Redeemer of
mankind, The foxes have holes, and the
birds of the air have nests; but the Son of
man hath not where to lay his head." Jesus
was more lonely and desolate in the earth
than any of the creatures which His own
hands had created. Jesus, therefore, can
sympathize with the forlorn, and can comfort
them. Once, when Frank had attended the
Sunday-school at Evedon for a little while,
he had learned the verse, Come unto me,
all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I
will give you rest." His teacher, too, had
spoken frequently of the joys of heaven, and
of its being a heme of rest and happiness to
those who were prepared for it. But Frank
had never gone to Jesus for sympathy, nor
thought of heaven as a future home, where
he might receive a welcome from God and
the holy angels. He was seeking only for
human friends, and for an earthly home.
His thoughts, therefore, instantly turned to
the pleasant and spacious habitation which
had been pointed out as the former residence
of his grandparents. It had once been a
home for them; and why might it not be a


home for him at some future time ? lie de-
termined that he would at least make an
effort to get it. There were obstacles in the
way,-obstacles, that to some might have
seemed almost insurmountable; but they
were as nothing to him. His buoyant ima-
gination was leaping forward, regardless of
all hindrances, and intent upon reaching the
one great object.
It did not take so long a time for these
thoughts to pass in rapid succession through
his mind, as it has done for us to note them
down; but it was long enough to make
little Ellen wonder at not receiving an answer
to her question, and she repeated it:-
"Say: haven't you a home of your own
like this ?"
No," replied Frank rather sadly. 1
never had a home, since I can remember,
like this one." He would have added, I
hope, though, to have a happy home of my
own when I am a man;" but, not being pre-
pared to explain himself more fully, he kept
I am very, vere sorry for you," said the
little girl; "but, if you are good and love
God, you will have a home after a while."


"Where?" inquired Frank, imagining
that in some way the little girl knew the
thoughts which had filled his mind while
she was waiting for his answer.
"In heaven, where God and the angels
live," replied the chid, gazing up in his face
with the pleased look of one who has just
communicated some joyful news. But sur-
prise at the unexpected answer he had re
ceived to his question, was the only emotion
which her remark produced in his mind.
One single word of encouragement, with
reference to his final success in winning an
earthly home, would have excited warm
feelings of gratitude and interest; but he
could listen with cold indifference to what
might be said of the holy and glorious city
which God has prepared for those that love
Not understanding his silence, little Ellen
gently disengaged her hand from his, and
took her favourite position on her father's
knee. Mr. Thorne entered into conversation
about Evedon, and vaAous matters that he
thought might be interesting. But Frank,
who had not been used to travelling, was
growing sleepy from the effect of the fatigue;


and Mrs. Thorne, perceiving this, advised
that he should go to rest early, which he was
by no means unwilling to do.
Frank slept very soundly on this his first
night at Mr. Thorne's, and his earliest
thought on awaking was surprise at the
strangeness of everything around him. It
was some moments before he could distinctly
realize where he was, or how he came there.
Gradually he recalled to mind all that had
occurred on the previous evening, and the
kindness he had met with,-from Mrs.
Thorne particularly. As he remembered her
gentle manners, he felt a thrill of gratitude,
and began most sincerely to wish that he had
the power of showing how much he appre-
ciated her goodness. As before intimated,
he presumed the religious exercises of family-
worship to have some connexion with the
dark side of Mr. Thorne's character,-the
" strait-laced notions" of which he had been
told. Yet, after all, this did not appear to
him so very objectionable. It is true, he had
no proper regard for the service as a fitting
tribute of praise to the Lord, or as an ac-
knowledgment of dependence from the crea-
ture to the great Creator; but he thought


tnere was something pleasant and homelike
in the idea of the whole family meeting
together and engaging in the same exercise.
He saw nothing to prevent him from earnestly
hoping that Mr. Thorne would employ him
permanently; for he felt very sure that it
would be extremely difficult to find a house-
hold in all respects equal to this one. Then
his mind wandered off to the old home of his
grandparents, where his father had passed
the days of childhood; and he renewed his
determination of striving with all his might
to make it his own.
But there was no time to lose in idle reflec-
tions or fruitless determinations. If he ex-
pected to gain anything at all, either in the
present or the future, he must be up and
doing. This he knew perfectly well. Mr.
Thorne was evidently an active man; and, if
he wished to gain his favour, he must show
himself diligent in his service. Anxious
to make himself useful at once, he carefully
laid aside his best clothes, and put on
an inferior though still respectable-looking
suit. He had scarcely finished dressing,
when he heard the loud ringing of a bell.
He regarded it as a summons to himself as


well as to.the rest of the household, although
uncertain for what purpose they were called
together. He hastened down-stairs, and
found the family assembled in the sitting-
room for religious worship, as they had been
on the preceding evening.
When breakfast was over, Mr. Thorne
called Frank to him, and inquired if he still
wished to live there.
Oh, yes, sir very much indeed, if you
think I can be of use to you."
"That depends on circumstances," Mr.
Thorne answered. One of my men is about
leaving, and I do not mind taking you on
trial to see if you will be able to fill his place.
In doing so, I shall not, of course, expect
you to work beyond your strength. You are
only a boy, and it would not be reasonable to
require a man's labour of you. Roberts's
work was not very heavy, but it was such as
needs care and forethought, which we do
not often find in so young a person as you
"I will try t. do my very best," said
Frank; "Mr. Conner trusted me a great
deal, and always considered me a careful


If you will do your best, that is the
most I can expect of you; but, till I under-
stand exactly what that is, I cannot very
well come to terms with you."
Sir ?"
I mean," continued Mr. Thorne, that,
till I know how much work you are capable
of doing, I cannot say what wages you ought
to have, or what I should be willing to give
you. Have you any objection to engage
yourself to me for a month, on the under-
standing that at the end of that time I will
pay you what is just ?"
Frank was prepared hastily and readily to
say Yes;" but the next moment he checked
himself, and hesitated. Mr. Thorne silently
watched the earnest workings of his expres-
sive countenance, wondering at the degree
of caution evinced by so young a lad in
making a bargain.. If he had known the
origin of his hesitation, he might have been
even more surprised. It was this:-for the
first time in his life, the boy was learning to
attach to money something of the importance
which it has in the opinion of worldly-minded
men. Hitherto its value to him had consisted
only in the means it furnished for the supply


of some immediate necessity. Now he had
found a new purpose to which he could
apply it. The only way by which he could
ever hope to gain possession of his grand-
father's old home, was by the careful hoarding
of small sums of money, until they should
have grown to the requisite sum, whatever
that might be; and now the question for con-
sideration was, whether he might not else-
where receive higher wages than Mr. Thorne
could offer. But the love of money had not
yet taken so deep root in his young heart as
to force out all other longings and desires.
He knew that it would be much more agree-
able to have a home with Mr. Thorne's family
than among entire strangers. This made
him half-inclined to accept the terms pro-
posed; while the stronger reason that, un-
known as he was in the neighbourhood, he
might find it difficult to obtain other employ-
ment, confirmed his decision. Besides this,
he had sufficient confidence in Mr. Thorne to
feel sure that in trusting to his honour he
was not risking very much.
"If you would prefer going somewhere
else, I would not wish to prevent it," said
Mr. Thorne, not understanding his hesitation


"I'd fiuch rather stay here and work
for you, sir," replied Frank; "and I am
sure you'll be willing to pay me as much as
I fairly earn this month. Perhaps before
very long I may be able to do more for you,
and then you may see proper to give me
higher wages."
"I shall certainly try to do my duty by
you," answered Mr. Thorne; and I think
I can rely upon you to do the same by me."
His new master then took Frank to the
stables, and, after showing him his morning's
work, went away to attend to some business
at the other end of the farm. Frank worked
hard, for he was bent upon doing all he could
to please; and he succeeded so far that when
Mr. Thorne stopped, on his way to dinner,
and saw what he had done, he expressed him-
self quite satisfied. The lad was more
thoughtful than boys of his age usually are,
and he had a natural love of order; so that
everything was done with care and precision.
After tea, George Thorne, showing him a
small book-case filled with instructive and
entertaining books, gave him leave at any
time to take down such as he might like to
read, on condition that he would he careful


to replace them. Frank could read well, and
he was very fond of it, although his oppor-
tunities for indulging the taste had been
few. lie selected one containing a descrip-
tion of Indian life, illustrated by coloured
"That is a large book, and it will take
you a number of days to read it" said
"I'll finish by Sunday night," replied
Frank; "for I shall have very little work to
do on Sunday, and I can have plenty of time
to read then."
But it will not do to read that book on
Sunday," said George.
Frank had always considered himself very
properly employed on Sundays, when reading
a book, no matter what it contained; and,
therefore, he now but imperfectly understood
his companion's meaning.
Is it a bad book ?" he inquired.
Oh, no!" replied George. "My father
would not allow me to have any bad or im-
proper books."
Then why shouldn't I read it on
Sunday ?"
"Because Sunday is a different day from


any other, and we are to use it only in God's
service, not for our own amusement."
I never knew that it was wrong to read
any good book on Sunday."
"God tells us in the Bible that, on the
Sabbath, we are to honour Him, not doing
our own ways, nor finding our own plea-
sure, nor speaking our own words," re-
turned George.
These were strange words to Frank; and,
while he was thinking over them, George
I have some books in my book-case that
are proper to read on Sunday: they are on
the top shelf. If you would like to have
one, you can choose for yourself."
Frank supposed that these books must all
be very dull and uninteresting, and that
there could not be much choice between
them. He careiessiy took one from its place,
and began to turn over the leaves. It was
the life of one of the earlier missionaries, and
contained an account of his residence among
the heathen. To his surprise, it seemed
almost as inviting as the book about the
That is a very good book," said George.


"It taught me to be more grateful to God
that I was born in a Christian country; and
it made me anxious to pray for the heathen,
and try to do them good."
Frank took the book, and laid it aside in
his room, to be ready for Sunday.
The rest of the week was spent much in
the same way as this first day had been.
Frank continued to give satisfaction to both
Mr. and Mrs. Thorne, and soon became quite
a favourite with all the family.



THE early part of Sunday had been at
Mr. Conner's a comparatively idle time, and
Frank, with the rest of the household, had
been accustomed to rise later on that morn-
ing than on others. On his first Sabbath at
Mr. Thorne's, he was prepared to indulge
his old habit; but, to his surprise, the loud
bell for morning-prayers rang at the usual
hour. He sprang from his bed, concerned
and mortified at the idea of appearing
more tardy than the rest of the family, and,
hastily dressing, went down to the sitting-
room. The chapter was almost finished;
but the small portion that remained to be
read fell unheeded upon his ear, and the
prayer that followed might almost as well
have been repeated in an unknown tongue,
so far as its effect upon his mind was con-
cerned. He was anxious and troubled about
the favour of his fellow-men, while he cared
little for that of God.


You were late this morning, Frank,"
said Mr. Thorne, when the service was
did not think you would be up so early
as usual this morning, sir."
"What made you think so?"
1 don't very well know, sir; but we
never got up as early at Mr. Conner's; I
suppose it was because Sunday was a sort
of idle day."
Why should Sunday be spent any more
idly than any other day ?" asked Mr. Thorne.
"I don't know, sir," replied Frank, hesi-
It seemed to him as if there ought to be
some reason for this; but yet he had never
heard one mentioned, nor had he ever thought
of the subject himself, and therefore, when
unexpectedly questioned about it, he had
nothing to say.
"Why is the Sabbath to be at all kept
differently from other days ?" Mr. Thorne
Frank quickly recalled a portion of his
recent conversation with George on this very
topic, and, pleased with his newly-acquired
information, he readily answered-


It is God's day, and we ought not to do
our own work then, but go to church when
we can, and learn about Him. Besides,
Mr. Thorne," he added, hastily, it would
not look respectable in us to work on Sunday
just as we do on other days. People would
think us no better than heathens."
The first part of his answer was given
pretty much by rote, as he had learned it
from George; the addition which he made,
contained the real motive for his own observ-
ance of the day.
It is quite right to desire the good opi-
nion of our neighbours," replied Mr. Thorne
but the Sabbath belongs to God. He has
set it apart for Himself, and this ought to
be our chief motive in making it differ from
other days. God has given us six days out
of seven for ordinary labour; but the seventh
lie has reserved for His special worship, not
to be wasted by us in indolence, but to be
occupied entirely in His service. God is
very good; and, by obeying His command-
ments, we are greatly rewarded, and our
own best interests are very much advanced.
By spending our Sabbaths in praising Him
and in striving to learn more of our duty to


Him, we are preparing ourselves for the
eternal happiness of heaven, and drawing
down upon ourselves the many blessings
which He has promised to those that keep
holy the Sabbath-day. But remember, Frank,
it is to be kept holy,-not frittered away in
sleep, or idly wasted."
The summons to breakfast interrupted the
conversation; but Frank seemed to have
been listening attentively and respectfully,
and Mr. Thorne hoped what had been said
might prove useful to him.
I shall be obliged to start for the Sab-
bath-school immediately this morning," said
Mr. Thorne, as he rose from the breakfast-
table, for I promised yesterday to call with
George on the way to see one of my scholars,
who is very ill."
Mr. Thorne had charge of the Bible-class
connected with the village-church.
Ellen's brow clouded.
Must George go with you?" she said,
in a whining tone. Then I shall have to
walk all the way to Sunday-school alone!"
"Frank will go with you, perhaps," re-
plied her father; "for we shall be very glad
to have him as a scholar."


Ellen looked inquiringly at Frank, who,
much to her satisfaction, readily expressed
his willingness to accompany her at the
proper time, if she would show him the way.
Mr. Thorne and George depa-ted on their
errand of mercy, and Frank began the book
he had laid aside for Sunday-reading, in
which he soon became so much interested
as quite to forget the flight of time, until he
heard Ellen's voice calling to him to say
that it was time for them to go.
The church was situated at the farther
end of the village, and their way lay directly
past the house of Frank's grandfather. When
they had reached it, he paused and looked
over the palings.
Isn't it beautiful in there?" said Ellen,
following his example and pressing her little
fat face against one of the partitions of the
"Very beautiful," replied Frank; "but
can you tell me who lives here now, Ellen?"
Squire Burton. But what ever makes
you ask?"
"My grandfather lived and died in this
house, and my father was born here," said
Frank, still gazing intently at the place.


Ellen expressed her surprise, and then be-
gan to chat enthusiastically about the beauty
of some flowers which attracted her parti-
cular fancy, while Frank, scarcely heeding
her presence, was musing upon the time
when he might perhaps call that place his
own. Presently the little girl noticed his
Don't you wish you could live in such a
place ?" she said, in a louder voice.
The change of tone, and the words so
directly in accordance with his own thoughts,
arrested his attention.
"Yes, and I mean to live here too, some
day or other."
"When ?" inquired Ellen; hastily adding,
"Is Squire Burton going away ?"
The matter-of-fact inquiry made by the
little girl quite surprised him.
Oh, I don't know: I hadn't thought of
Squire Burton moving at all; it'll be a very
long time before I can get it," he replied,
"Indeed!" answered Ellen, looking in-
quiringly towards him; for she scarcely un-
:lerstood his meaning.
Frank, observing the earnest expression of


the little girl's face, hesitated for a moment,
and then entered into a full statement of
the purpose he had formed that he would
one day gain possession of that house, and
make it his own home.
But it is all a secret, Ellen, and you
mustn't tell any one," he said, doubting if
it was right to have disclosed his plan even
to her.
The child looked seriously concerned, and
evidently thought a secret would be an
important and troublesome matter in her
"Mayn't I tell father and mother?" she
No; no one at all," replied Frank.
Then I'm sorry you told me about it."
By this time they were walking slowly
along towards the church, and Frank was
occupied by his musings, so that he made
no reply. In a few moments Ellen inter-
rupted him by saying-
"I'm afraid you won't get Squire Burton's
house, after all."
"Why not ?"
Because you have been laying plans on
the Lord's day, and that is just as bad as


doing work; so I'm afraid God will not
bless you."
"Why, Ellen, men who work on Sunday
often get rich. Some of the richest people
in Evedon hardly ever went to church, and
never seemed to think about or to care for
God's blessing."
"Then their riches were no real good to
them at all," said Ellen, seriously. "My
father says that God sometimes lets people
grow rich and have all they want in the
world when they are wicked, as a curse to
them, because they will not keep His com-
mandments. Isn't that dreadful, Frank?"
He made no reply, but he looked con-
cerned as he pondered upon the child's
words. What if he should be allowed to
become rich as a curse, instead of a blessing ?
Very soon, however, he found relief.
"Some time or other I will be a good man
like Mr. Thorne, and then God will make
my riches a blessing," he whispered to his
conscience; and for the present it was quieted.
Yet there was nothing in this simple resolu-
tion, formed in his own strength, that ought
to have silenced its voice. There is, probably,
no lost soul in the world o' despair, that ha?


not formed similarly profitless resolutions.
it was merely a suggestion of the deceitful
heart, and was worth nothing.
"There is the church, and there are the
girls and boys going into the Sunday-school,"
said Ellen, pointing to a pleasant-looking
building, into which a number of children of
various sizes and ages were entering.
"There are father and George waiting for
us," she continued. Father will introduce
you to Mr. Wilson, the superintendent, and
he will put you into a class. You will like
Mr. Wilson very much, I am sure."
They were now met by Mr. Thorne, and,
as Ellen had promised, Frank was duly
introduced to Mr. Wilson, and placed by him
in a suitable class.
After the teaching was over, he followed
the Thornes into church, and took a seat
with the family. The sermon was of such a
nature as could be easily understood, and
Frank ought to have been interested, for he
might have gained from it a very large
amount of useful knowledge; but the truth
is, that his mind was intent upon the future,.
and his thoughts busy with plans that were
to be carried out when he should come into


possession of Squire Burton's property. To
the eye of a casual observer there would have
seemed to be but a slight difference between
the two boys who sat, side by side, in Mr.
Thorne's pew, that sabbath morning. The
countenances of both were singularly bright
and intelligent; they were equally quiet and
immovable during the service; and the eyes
of both were apparently fixed upon the
clergyman. Yet, to the eye of the great
God, who looketh upon the heart, while man
looks only upon the outward appearance, a
wide difference was discernible. The one
was seeking an earthly home, earthly riches,
earthly honours; the other was looking
forward to a better country, even a heavenly,
and seeking to secure a crown of glory and
a seat among the angels. Each was pressing
forward with equal energy of purpose to
reach the separate goals which they had
chosen; and, different as these were, each
was looking towards his own as the best
adapted to supply the largest amount of
happiness. By the one, that day was passed
in laying uncertain plans to obtain what, at
the best, could only benefit him for a short
time; while the blessed "inheritance, in-


corruptible, and undefiled, and which fadeth
not away," had no place in his recollection.
By the other, it was spent in endeavouring
to learn that which would fit him for a life
of usefulness on earth, and for a whole eternity
of happiness in heaven. To the former, that
day, so far as regarded the purpose for which
it had been given, was entirely lost;-to the
latter, it had been all gain, for it had been
employed in God's own appointed way.



TIB long summer-days had passed away,
the brightly-tinted autumn-leaves had fallen,
the trees were bare, and the. long winter-
nights had set in. Frank was still in Mr.
Thorne's employment; and all this time he
had been treated with unremitting kindness,
while his own conduct had been such as to
give entire satisfaction.
The day had been dark and threatening;
and now, as night advanced, the first snow
of the season began to fall. It was chilly
and disagreeable out-of-doors ;-just such
weather as makes one fully conscious of the
advantages of a sheltering roof and the enjoy-
ment of a comfortable fireside. George
Thorne had left home some weeks previous
for a distant boarding-school, where he was
to prepare for the university. The rest of
the household were gathered in the pleasant
sitting-room. Mr. Thorne was looking over
the contents of the village-newspaper, and


occasionally reading aloud such paragraphs
as he thought might serve to amuse or
interest the members of the family. Mrs.
Thorne was engaged in useful needle-work,
her countenance wearing the same expression
of calm, quiet happinesss which it had when
we first introduced her to our readers. Frank
Russell, with a penknife and several pieces
of wood, was forming skewers; yet his hands
were not too busily employed to prevent his
mind from being occupied. He was counting
over the money which he had saved up; no,
not counting it, for he was so familiar with
the exact amount, that it required no effort
to sum it up; but he was calculating what
additions he might hope to make in the
next few months to the three sovereigns
which, by strict economy and careful hoard-
ing, he had managed already to lay by.
Ellen, seated at the table with her mother,
was writing in a large home-made copy-
book. Suddenly she laid down her pen,
and inquired, with an earnest face-
Father, what is it to be' not rich towards
She was copying from the Bible, and this
phrase had arrested her attention.

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