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( ;IVK HIM A LIFT.
Hni a lift! Don’t kneel in prn.> er,
with Ms despair;
' is down, and his jrrear need
iijv hP ip. not prayer and creed.
. when wounds are washed and healed,
!", t he inward motive be revealed;
! :; il( ,w whatever the spirit be,
nnrds are shallow mockery.
\j,re " 1
t rain of aid just now is more
than tootnba of saintly lore;
jpM jf vo „ must, within your heart,
W 1 v, him a lift, give him a start.
H F" 1 k 1
1 „ or | ( ) is full of good advice,
I , ,av. r and praise and preaching nice
Ii irons souls who aid mankind,
■ |',ijt K* 11
I ik , diamonds, hard to find.
I ijjj,, ,i Christian, apeak in deeds,
1 ( j ],, iff,, the best of creeds,
8 , ,!l w£r a royal crown,
9 , |,, -iv • s ft. lift when men are down.”
m frn t l fr nnnnTT
H'■ 1H ' ■
J LJ J uJJ iJ LJ Li
by WALTER BESANT.
ce ivetb His neighbor, and saith, Am 1 not
in sport*/’ ’*
Solomon must surely have had Ralph In
bis mind ,
Then she pointed with the same finger
t 0 a door opposite, and said., a smile of
satisfaction stealing over her count enance:
••Go to your guardian Go to receive
tbe wages of sin
••Those,” said Ralph, with a light laugh,
feeling confidence in his alder branch,
.. are not a dogging on this occasion, but
a fight ”
Before she heard his words, or had be
gun to ask herself what they might mean,
because she was sc full of satisfaction
with her texts, he had flung his hat upon
a chair and gone to the next room If
Barbara had been observant, she might
remarked, beside these extraordinary
■rds, a certain brightness of the eyes
sad setting of the mouth which betokened
the spirit of resistance
The inner room was one occupied and
used by Mathew alone It contained all
the papers, account documents
connected with the property and business
of the mill Here, too, was the stone jar
already referred to The decks had been,
so to speak, cleared for action, that is to
say, the table was thrust into the corner,
and upon it lay the sacred instrument
with which Mathew loved to correct his
ward This promoter of virtue, or dis
[ peuser of consequences, was a strong and
I supple cane, than which few instruments
are more highly gifted with the power of
inflicting torture, Ralph knew it well,
and had experienced on many occasions
I the full force of this wholesome quality.
I He saw it lying ready for use, and he ro-
I fleeted cheerfully that the afder branch
I partly up his left sleeve and partly in his
coat pocket would be more supple. equaMy
heavy and perhaps more efficacious, re
garded simply as a pain producer
When the boy appeared, Mathew rose
I RQ d removed his wig and coat, because the
work before him was likely to make him
warm He then assumed the rod, and
ordered Ralph to take off his coat and
waistcoat.
'This day,” he said, "you have dis
graced your family I design that you shall
have such a Hogging as you will not
■paddy forget, ” He then remembered
■Pit he would be more free for action
ritbout his waistcoat A man can throw
more heart into his work “Such a flog
ging,” he repeated as he removed it, "as
you will remember all your life.”
“Well, cousin.” said Ralph, “Mr Car
naby said that the penance was the pun
ishment. I have done the penance. ”
"Silence, sir' Do you dare to argue
*ith your guardian?" lie now began to
rod up his shirt sleeves so as to have his
arms quite bare, which is an additional
advantage when one wants to put out all
one’s strength “I. shall flog the flesh off
your bones, you young villain I”
But he paused, and for a moment his
jaws stuck, and he was speechless, for his
cousin, instead of meekly placing himself
in position to receive the stupendous flog
ging intended for him. was facing him,
i' solution in his eyes, and a weapon in
his hands
’ l":; ::ng for flogging. Cousin Mathew,"
Ra i ( i haiph. ••flesh for flesh Strip my
boues, 1 sti’ip yours "
Mathew now observed for the first time
—was a most unfortunate moment for
making the discovery 7 —that Ralph was a
good two inches taller than himself, that
his ana was as stout, and that his weapon
"ns ot a thickness, length, and pliability
''hich might make the stoutest quail, also
16 remarked that his shoulders were sur
prisingly broad, and his legs of length and
S quite out of the common And it even
, c urred to him that he might have to en
|(| r e hardness
Flesh for flesh," said Ralph, poising
the alder branch
'■linin' Would you break the Fifth
commandment?"
hokph shook his weapon, making it sing
merrily and even thirstily through the
a h. Uit made no reply
Bay down the switch ”
Ralph raised it above bis head as one
* t 10 ’ s preparing to strike.
Lown on your knees, viper, and beg
for pardon ”
( for flesh. Mathew." said Ralph,
will have it then, young devil. I
kill youl"
Hathew rushed upon his cousin, rain
g blows as thick as hail upon him For
ue moment his weight told and the boy
beaten back Swish "Viperl* Swish
swish—'twas a terrible cane "1 will
* c h you to rebel ” Swisb —swish —’twas
oane of a suppleness beyond nature “I
, give you a lesson ’’ Swish —swish.
W U! break every bone In your body H
s^'~ t heend of the cane found out every
place—there were not many upon
body
But then the tables were turned, for
g . k°y recovering from the first confu
,j( U , ' (,a P e( l suddenly aside, and with a
ex terous movement of the left foot caused
J| ls cousin to stumble and fall heavily,
struck, kicked and lashed
ve- l llt * le not £ et U P again A
B|,. ' ni P°rtant element in the fight was
overlooked by Mathew before
the attack It was this, that
Ufc, eu/ he was himself out of condition,
the boy was In splendid fettle, sound of
wtnd as well as linib So furious was
Mat hew’s first assault that, brief as was
its duratiou. no sooner was he tripped up
than he perceived that his wind was
gone, and though he could kick and
struggle. yet if he half got up he was
quickly knocked down again And while
he kicked and struggled, this young
Hut then t)ie tublex were turned.
viper, this monster of ingratitude, was
administering such a punishment as even
ho. Mathew, had never contemplated for
Ralph
“Have you had enough?” cried the boy
at last, out of breath
“1 will murder you. I will Oh,
Lord!” For the punishment began again.
"Stripping of flesh.” said Ralph "This
you will remember, cousin, all your life."
The alder branch was like a flail in the
lad’s strong arm The rapidity, the pre
cision. the delicate perception of tender
places, took away the sufferer’s breath.
There was no sound place left in the
whole of Mathew’s body.
"Have you had enough?” cried Ralph.
"1 will flay you alive for this—l will.
Oh, oh! I have had enough.”
"Then,” said Ralph, with one final ef
fort, the effect of which would be by it
self felt for a week and more, “get up.”
Mathew rose groaning.
“We have had the last of punishments,”
s.aid the boy "1 will fight you any day
you please, brit I will take no more pun
ishments from you. ” He threw down his
stick, and put on his coat and wdistcoat.
with some tenderness, however, for the
first part of the battle had left its marks.
Now outside the two women were lis
tening, one with complacency and the
other with pity And the first was ready
with the Bible still open at the Book of
Proverbs, which contains quite an armory
of texts good to hurl at a young trans
gressor The second, with one ear turned
to the door of Mathew’s room, went on
dishing the beef, which she presently
placed upon the. table.
There was unusual delay in the sound
which generally followed Ralph’s visits to
that room. No doubt Mathew 7 was com
mencing w r ith a short commission service.
Presently, however, there was a great
trampling of feet, with the swish, swish
of the cane —Mathew’s first charge.
“Lord ha’ mercy!” cried Prudence.
“ ‘The rod and reproof give wisdom,’”
read her mistress from the book.
Then they heard a heavy fall, followed
by a heavier, faster, more determined
swishing, hissing, and whistling of the
instrument, till the air was resonant with
its music, and it was as if all the boys in
Northumberland were being caned at
once.
"Lord ha’ mercy!" repeated Prudence,
"ne’ll murder the boy.”
“ ‘A reproof,' " read the other from her
place, “ ’entereth more into a wise man
than*a hundred stripes into a fool ’ ”
There was a pause, and then a sound of
voices, and then another terrific hailstorm
of blows
Both women looked aghast. Was the
punishment never to end?
“Mistress,” she cried, "you may look on
while the boy is cut to pieces—l can’t and
won’t. ”
She opened tho door. Heavens! what a
sight was that which met her astonished
eyes The boy, cut and bruised about the
face, was standing in the middle of the
room, smiling The man was on his hands
and knees, slowly rising; his shirt was
torn off his back; his shoulders were cut
to pieces, he was covered with weals and
bruises; his face, scarred and seamed with
Ralph’s cruel alder branch, was dreadful
to look upon He seamed to see nothing;
he groaned as he lifted himself up; he
staggered where he stood
Presently he put on his coat, with many
groans and muttered curses, and Prudence
observed -that all the while he regarded
the lad with looks of the most extreme
terror and rage. Presently she began to
understand the situation
“Are you hurt. Master Ralph?" she
asked
“No. but Mathew is," said Ralph
"Mathew." cried Iris sister, as the vis
tim of rebellion stuggered into the room,
"what is this?"
He sank into his arm chair with a long,
deep groan, and made no reply.
"Why. what in the world. Master
Ralph?” asked the servant.
But the lad had gone. He went up
stairs to his own room; made up a little
bundle of things which he wrapped in a
handkerchief, picked out the thickest and
heaviest of his cudgels, and then returned
to the kitchen.
"Give me my dinner," he said.
Barbara had brought out her brother’s
wig and put it on now, but he still sat si
lent and motionless. He was in such an
agony of pain all over, and his nervous
system had sustained so terrible a shock
that he could not speak.
“Give me my dinner," Ralph repeated.
Barbara pointed to tho crust of bread.
She was appalled by this mutiny, but she
preserved some presence of mind, and she
remembered the bread. Then she sat
down sjgain before the Bible and began to
read, like a clergyman wdiile the plate
goes round.
“ ‘lt is as sport to the fool to do mia
chief-’” ,
Pritienee, the beef being already served,
laid a knife and fork for each.
•• ‘A fool’s mouth,’ ” Barbara said, as if
she was quoting Solomon, " ‘caliph for
roasted beef and a stalle’d ox. Bread aud
wat* until submission and repentance.
The youug mutineer made no verbal re-
ply. But he dragged the dish before his
own plate, and began to carve for himself,
largely and generously
"Mathew!” cried Barbara, springing to
her feet.
"Let it be —let it be.” said Mathew;
"let the young devil alone I will be
even with him somehow Let be."
"Not the old wav. cousin," replied
Ralph with a nod He then helped him
self to about a pint or so of the good old
October, and began, his appetite sharp
ened by exercise, to make the beef dis
appear'in large quantities Mathew looked
on, saying nothing The sileuce terrified
his sister What did it mean? And she
perceived, for the first, time, that their
ward had ceased to be a boy, and must
henceforth be treated as a man. It was a
fearful thought. She shut her Bible and
sat back with folded hands, waiting the
issue
In course of time even a hungry boy of
17 has had enough. Ralph lifted his head
at last, took another prolonged pull at the
beer, and told Barbara, politely, that he
had enjoyed a good dinner.
Then he*turned to his cousin and ad
dressed him with a'certain solemnity
“Cousin,” he said, "you have always
hated me, because my uncle left the mill
to me instead of to yourself Yet you
knew from the beginning that his design
was for me to have it I have demo you
no wrong You have never lost any op
portunity of abusing mo before my face
and behind my back. You became, un
happily for me, my guardian. You have
never neglected any chance of flogging
and beating me, if you could find a cause.
As regards the ghost business, i/ was
wrong. I deserved punishment, but was
it the province of a cousin and a guardian
to go and lay information before the jus
tice ef the peace? I shall be 17 come next
month. In four years this mill and the
farm will be mime own But if I remain
with you here I can expect nothing but
hatred and ill treatment as far as you
dare. You have give me plow 7 boy’s work
without aplowboy’s wage, and often with
out a plowboy’s food. As for flogging,
that is finished, because I think you have
no more stomach for another fight. ”
Mathew made no reply whatever, but
sat with his head upon his hands, breath
ing heavily. •
"I am tired of ill treatment,” Ralph
went on. "and I shall go away.”
"Whither, boy?” asked Barbara.
“I know not yet. 1 go to seek my
fortune. ”
"Go, if you will’.” said Mathew; “go, in
the devil’s name; go, whither yon are
bound to go; long before four years are
over you will be hanging in chains. ”
Ralph laughed and took up his bundle.
“Farewell. Prudence,” ho said; "thou
wast ever kind to me.”
The woman threw her arms about his
neck and kissed him with tears, and prayed
that the Lord might bless him. And as
he walked forth from the house the voice
of Barbara followed him, saying;
, “ ‘A whip for the horse, a bridle for the
ass, and a od for the fool’s back. ’ ”
Tho fugleman was sitting in the sun be
fore his door in the castle, smoking a pipe
and inclined to be drowsy, when Ralph
appeared with his startling news.
As regards the flogging the old soldier
made light of it. Nothing can be done in
the army without the cat. Had not ho
himself once received 800 all by a mistake,
because they were meant for another man.
who escaped? Did he therefore bear malice
against his commanding officer? No. But
the villainy of Mathew, first to lay infor
mation and then to make an excuse for a
flogging, just for pleasure and to gratify
his own selfish desire to be continually
flogging, why, that justified the mutiny.
As -for the details of the fight, he blamed
severely the inexperience in strategy
shown by first knocking down the enemy.
He should have expected better things of
Ralph, whose true policy would have been
to harass and annoy his adversary by
feints, dodges and unexpected skirmishes.
This would not only have fatigued him,
but, considering his shortness of breath,
would have worn him out, so that he
would in the end have fallen an easy prey,
and been cudgeled without resistance till
there was not a sound place left. Beside,
it would have made the fight more inter
esting. considered as a work of art.
However, doubtless the next time—but
then he remembered that the boy was
going away
“To seek my fortune, fugleman,” Ralph
said gayly "Look after Drusy for me.
while I am away ”
“Ay —ay.” the fugleman replied, "she
shall come to no harm. And as for money.
Master Ralph?”
“I’ve got a guinea,” he replied, "which
my uncle gave me three years ago.”
"A guinea won’t go far Stay, Master
Ralph.” He went into his room and came
back with a stocking in his hand "Here’s
all I’ve got. boy It is twenty guineas
Take it all. I shall do very well. Lord!
what with the rabbits and the pheas
ants"
"NsfcVsaid Ralph, “1 will not take your
savings neither. ”
But, presently, being pressed, he con
sented to take ten guineas on the under
standing that when he came back (his
fortune made) the fugleman was to receive
twenty And then they parted with a
mighty hand shake.
Half way down the street Ralph passed
Sailor Nan. who was sitting on a great
stone beside her door, smoking her short
black pipe
“Whither bound, my lad?” she asked.
"I am botmd to London,” he replied. “I
am off to seek my fortune."
Like most old women. Nan could read a
lad’s fortune in the lines of his hand, or
by the cards, or by the peeling of an apple
“A good cruise,” she said, “with fair
wiud aft and good weather for the most
part. < But storms belike on leaving port.
There’s a villain and fighting, and foreign
parts, and gold, and a good wife. Go thy
ways, lad Art no poor, puss faced
swab to fear fair fighting. Go thy ways.
Take and give. Trust not too many. And
stand by all old shipmets. Go thy ways.”
He laughed and left her. Yet he was
cheered by her kindly prophecy
He crossed the old bridge and presently
found himself outside the green palings
of Dame Hetherington’s house. The gir!
who had joined him in church was in the
garden. He whistled and she came run
ning.
“1 am come to say good-by. Drusy," he
said. “1 am running away.”
“Oh. Ralph, whither? And you have a
cruel blow upon your face.”
"I fought Mathew,” he said, "and
I have beaten him This scar upon my
face is uothing compared with the scars
over his I believe he is one large bruise
But I can no longer endure his ill treat
ment and Barbara’s continual reproaches.
Therefore l am resolved to remain no
longer, but shall go to London, there to
seek my fortune as thy father did.
Drusy.”
They talked for half an hour, she trying
to persuade him to stay and he resolved
to go Then be went with her into the
house, where he must needs tell all the
story to Dame Hetherington, who scolded
him. and bade him get home again and
make submission, but he would not
Then Drusilla remembered that her
father would gladly aid any lad from
Northumberland, and sat down and wrote
a letter very quickly, being dexterous
with her pen, and gave it to Ralph t
carry
"You will find him." she said, "at the
sign of the Leg and Star in Cheapside
Forget not that address Stay, I will
write it outside the letter Give it him
with my respect and obedience Oh,
■Ralph, shall you be long before you have
found your fortune and are back to us?”
"Nay.” said Ralph. "1 know uot what
may be my fortune. I go to find it. like
many a lad of old.”
Then, after many fond farewells, Ralph
kissed her and trudged away manfully,
while Drusy leaned her head over the
garden gate and wept and sobbed, and
could not bo consoled.
A *
CHAPTER 111.
IIOW RALPH SOUGHT FORTUNE
A young man’s walk from Warkworth
all the way to London cannot fail to be
full of interest and adventure.
There were wagonere to talk with,
friendly hawkers, whom the people call
muggers, and faws. or tinkers, who are
too often robbers and pilferers; also far
mors, their wives and daughters, cattle
drovers, carriers, honest sailors, who
would scorn to rob upon the highway, on
their way to join ship, and pleasant little
country toxvns every eight or ten miles,
where one could rest and talk, and drink
a tankard of cool small beer. Then, as it
was early summer, when there are fairs
going on in many places, the roads in
some parts were full of the caravans and
the show people, whom Ralph found not
only a curious and interesting folk, but
also friendly, and inclined to conversa
tion with a stranger who was not a rival;
who was ready to offer a tankard; who
admired without stint or envy the pre
cious things they had to show, and who
watched with delight unbounded and be
lief profound, the curious tricks, arts,
artifices, and accomplishments by which
they secured a precarious livelihood.
Ralph walked with them along the road,
and heard their stories. He also learned
some of the strange language in which
they talk to each other when minded not
to be understood by the bystanders.
When they came to their destination,
and set up their canvas booths he stayed,
too, and enjoyed the fun of the fair.
There were lotteries also; you could put
in and draw everywhere all day long;
there were prizes of sixpence and prizes
of £10; he put in; sometimes he won,
but oftener he lost, which is generally the
way with sportsmen and those who wait
upon the Goddess of Chance. At this
Capua, or Paradise of Pleasures, which
was then, and is Grantham,
Ralph had well nigh takeiwA step which
would have made his less in
teresting to us, though perhaps fuller of
incident. For he made acquaintance—
being a youth of innocent heart, and apt to
believe in the honesty and virtue of every
body—with the company of players. Now
it happened, first, that the troop were
sadly in wernt of a young actor, if ofily to
play up to the manager’s daughter; and,
secondly, that this young lady, who was
as beautiful as the day and as vivacious
as Mrs. Bracegirdle (she afterward became
a most famous London actress, and mar
ried an aged earl), cast eyes of favor on
the handsome lad. longed very much for
him to play Romeo to her Juliet, or
Othello to her Desdemona. or any other
part in which the beauty of a handsome
woman is set off by the beauty of a hand
some fellow, a thing which very few act
resses can understand; they think, which
is a great mistake, that it is better for
them to he the only well favored creature
on the stage Wherefore the manager
took Ralph aside privately, and offered
him refreshment, eit her ale, or rum bo. or
Barbadoes water, with tobacco if he chose,
aud had serious conversation with him.
providing all his victuals, and those as
abundant as the treasury would allow,
and a salary —say five shillings a week, to
begin in a few months, as soon as he had
learned to act. and to teach him the rudi
ments, and the honor and glory of playing
principal parts, and his own daughter to
play up to, and a possible prospect of ap
pearing at Drury Lane.
It was a tempting offer; the stage —even
the stage in a^barn —seemed splendid to
the lad, the voice and manner of the man
ager were seductive, more seductive still
was the voice of his daughter When she
lifted her great eyes and met his he trem
bled and could not say tar nay When
she laid her pretty his. and
begged him to stay with them and be her
Romeo, what could he reply? Yet he re
membered in time that he was on his way
to seek his fortune; that the troupe were
obviously out at elbows, all horribly poor,
and apparently badly fed; that to fall in
love with an actress was not the begin
ning he had contemplated, and that Drusy,
for her part, would certainly not consider
a strolling actor’s life as the most honora
ble in the world He took a resolution;
be would think no more upon those limpid
eyes; he hardened his heart; he would fly.
He did fly. but not before the young
actress, who was already beyond his own
age and ought to have known
laid her arms around his neck and kissed
farewefc, with many tears, to her first love,
who would not love her in return But
her father was not displeased, and said,
speaking more fronwi business point of
view than out of pattffnal tenderness, that
she would act the better for the little dis
appointment, and that it does thorn good.
when they are young, to feel something of
what they are always pretending Said it
put backbone into thetr attitudes and
* real tears in their eyes Nothing on the
To stay icith them and be her Romeo.
stage so difficult as real tears, except q
blush, which cannot be had for love or
money
Thus it happened that it was four or
five weeks before Ralph got to London.
He arrived by way of Ilighgate. He
reached the top of Highgate Hill at 4 in
the,afternoon Here he sat down to rest,
and to look upon the city he had come so
far to see. He saw in the distance the
towers and steeples of London;
journey was done; the fortune he
seek was —where was it? All the long
way from Warkworth it seemed to him
that when he reached London he would
immediately find that thing known as
fortune in some visible and tangible form,
waiting to be seized by his strong young
hands. Yet now that he saw before bin
the City of the Golden Pavement it
seemed as if. perhaps —it was a chilling
thought—he might not know or recog
nize, or be able to seize this fortune when
he actually saw wt. What is it like—
Good Fortune* In other words he began
for the first time to experience the cold
ness of doubt falls upor
tfie stoutest of us. His cheek was by this
time burned a deeper brown; his hands
were dyed and tanned by the June sun;
his coat and waistcoat were stained with
travel and with rain; his shoes were worn
through the soles; in his pocket jingled
the last two of his eleven guineas. When
they were gone, he reflected with dismay,
what would have to be done? But it was
not a time to sit and think. Every fort
une must have its beginning: every young*
adventurer must make a start; every
Dick Whittington must enter the city of
London. He rose, seized his bundle, and
set off down the hill, singing to keep up
his spirits, with as much alacrity as if he
were only j*ist starting on his way from
Warkworth, and as if his heart was still
warmed by the recollection of his cousin’s
bruises.
The way from Highgate to London lies
along a pleasant road between tall hedges.
On either side are fields and woods, and
here and there a gentleman's seat or the
country box of a successful citizen. Pres
ently the boy reached Highbury, where
the road bends south, and he passed
Islington, with its old church and its nar
row, shady lanes thick with trees. On
his right he saw a great crowd in a gar
den, and there was music. This was Sad
ler’s Wells. Soon after this he arrived at
Clerkenwell Green, and so by a maze of
streets, not knowing whither he went, to
Smithfield, where he found himself in the
midst of the crowd which fills all the
streets of the city from dawn till night.
It was 7 o’clock when he found himself
at the place whither he was bound. He
had been wandering for an hour and a
half looking about nim. and at last vent
ured to ask the way of a servant girl, who
seemed astonished that he should not
know so simple a thing as the most expe
ditious road to Cheapsido, seeing that It
was only the other side of Paul’s. But
she told him. and he presently found him
self In the broad and wealthy street called
Clieapside.
The Leg and Star was on the south side,
between Broad street and Bow church.
It was a glover’s shop, and because it was
growing late, the boxes of gloves were
now taken from the-window, and the ap
prentices were putting all away. Ralph
stopped and looked at the sign, then at
the letter —which was not a little crum
pled and travel st/.ined—and again at the
sign. Yes. it must be the house, the sign
of the Leg and Star, in Cheapside.
At the door of the shop stood a tall and
portly man. between 50 and CO years of
age, with large red cheeks and double
chin. He was dressed in plain broad
cloth and tve wig, but he wore ruffles and
neckcloth of fine white linen laced, as be
came a substantial citizen. Ralph knew
it could be none other than Mr. Ilether
ington, where fore'he took off his hat and
bowed low.
“What is thy business, young man?”
asked the master glover.
“Sir, I bear a letter from your honor’s
daughter, now staying at Warkworth, in
Northumberland. ”
“My daughter I Then, prithee, boy,
who are you?”
“My name is Ralph Embleton, and”
“Thou art the son, then, of my cid
friend, Jack Embleton? Come in, lad,
come in. ” He seized the boy by the arm
and dragged him into the house and
across the shop to th sitting room at the
back. “Wife! wife!” he cried. “Here is
a messenger from Drusy with a letter.
Give me the letter, boy. And this ie
young Ralph Embleton, son of my old
friend and gossip, Jack Emhfeto*, with
whom I have had many a fight in the old
days. Poor Jack! poor Jack! Well, we
live. Let us be thankful. Make the boy
welcome; give him supper. Make him a
bed somewhere. What art tbou doing in
this great place, lad? So the letter—ay!
the letter.”
He read the superscription, and slowly
opened it and began o read:
“Deas and Hon’d Parents: The
bairer of this is. Rafe, w.ho has run awav
from cruell treatment, and wants to* make
bis fortune in London. He will tell you
that I am well, and that I pray for your
helthe, and that you will be kind t® Rafe
Your loving and dutiful d’ter, Drusilla.”
“So,” went on the merchant, “cruel
treatment. Who hath cruelly ill treated
thee, boy?”
"I have run away, sir.” he said, “from
my cousin. Mathew Humble, because he
seeks every opportunity to do me a mis
chief And ah ice he is my guardian there
is no remedy but to endure o: to run away."
“Ah. Mathew Humble, who bought my
farm Sam Embleton married his lather’s
sister Did your Uncle Sam leave Morwick
Mill to Mathew?”
“No. sir. he left it to mo."
“And Mathew is your guardian? Yet
the mill is your own. and you have run
away from your own property? Morwick
Mill is a pretty estate. It likes me not.
Yet you would fain seek your fortune in
London. That is well Fortune, my lad.
is only to be made by men of resolute
hearts, like me.” He expanded as he
spoke, and seemed to grow two feet higher
and broad in proporti&n. “And strong
arms, like mine”—he hammered his chest
as if it had been an anvil —“and keen eyes,
like mine. Weak men fail and get tram
pled on in London Cowardly men get
set on one side, while the strong and the
brave march on. I shall bo, without doubt,
next year, a common councilman Strong
men, clever men, brave men. boy. march,
I say, from honor to greater hoi>or I
shall become alderman in two or three
years, if providence so disposes. There is
no limit to the exalted ambitions of the
London citizen. You would climb like
me You would be, some day. my lord
mayor It is well It does you credit. It
is a noble ambition.”
TO BE CONTINUED.
G RINOLOGICAL NOTES.
The old inaid's favorite vegetable is to
mate, O.—Pittsburg Chronicle.
Beauty is only skin deep—and it isn’t
often that in Boston. —Somerville Jour
nal.
r \ fis first assisted Italian immigrant to
this country was a person named Chris
topher Columbus.—Puck.
I artist who puts up gilt signs may
not be much of a correspondent, but he
turns out some brilliant letters.—Mer
chant Traveler.
At York Harbor the ladies so fur out
number the gentlemen this season that
tin* place is known as the sea-shore. —
Boston Transcrip.
“How fond Charley Roberts is of his
father! He fairly worships him.” “Yes;
he takes after his father in that respect.”
—Harper's Bazar.
Do Smith—“ How are you up at your
boarding house. Travis—Pretty full?”
Travis—“ Not •much ! Our landlady is
an out-and-out prohibitionist.”—Burl
ington Free Press.
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