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diff --git a/43325.txt b/43325.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 7b6efa5..0000000 --- a/43325.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8243 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Her Benny, by Silas Kitto Hocking - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Her Benny - A Story of Street Life - -Author: Silas Kitto Hocking - -Illustrator: Harry Tuck - -Release Date: July 27, 2013 [EBook #43325] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HER BENNY *** - - - - -Produced by Clare Graham and Marc D'Hooghe at -http://www.freeliterature. (From images generously made -available by Europeana and the Bodleian Library of Oxford.) -"This etext edition of 'Her Benny' is dedicated to the -memory of Edgar, John and Kenneth Graham - three brothers -from Liverpool who made good." - - - - - -HER BENNY. - -A STORY OF STREET LIFE. - - -BY - -SILAS K. HOCKING, - -AUTHOR OF "ALEC GREEN," ETC. - - -ILLUSTRATED BY H. TUCK. - - -LONDON - -FREDERICK WARNE AND CO., - -BEDFORD STREET, STRAND. - - - -[Frontispiece: BENNY AND NELLY BATES IN THE HUT OF JOE WRAG.--_See p._ 30] - - - -TO - -My Bairns - -(GOD BLESS THEM!) - -THIS LITTLE BOOK IS DEDICATED - -WITH MUCH - -AFFECTION. - - - - -PREFACE. - - -My pastoral work, during a three years' residence in Liverpool, called -me frequently into some of the poorest neighbourhoods of that town, -where I became acquainted with some of the originals of this story. -It was not until I had seen the little Arabs of the streets in their -homes--if such haunts of wretchedness be worthy of that name--that I -felt that interest in, and sympathy for them, that I have experienced -ever since. Getting to know them in their homes, I was glad to stop -and speak to them in the streets, and give them a word of sympathy and -encouragement. They are not all bad, as many people seem to think. -Many of them try hard to earn an honest living, though they find it a -difficult matter, especially when at home they receive no encouragement, -while in the streets temptation is being continually put in their way by -those of whom "Perks" so justly complained. - -The grouping of the characters that figure in the story is purely -fictitious, but not the characters themselves. Benny and little Nell, -Perks and Joe Wrag, Granny and Eva Lawrence, are drawn from life. I knew -them well. Some of them are alive to-day, others have gone to their rest. - -For the interest my little story has awakened in both old and young, -in its serial form, I am rejoiced and thankful; and if, in the more -permanent and attractive style it now assumes, it shall awaken any -sympathy for the poor little waifs of our streets, I shall have my -reward. - - -SILAS K. HOCKING. - -_October_ 21_st_, 1879. - - - - -CONTENTS - - I. Brother and Sister - II. Addler's Hall - III. Roughing it - IV. A Friend in need - V. "O Death! what dost thou mean?" - VI. In which Benny makes a Discovery - VII. Two Visits - VIII. In which Joe Wrag has a Vision - IX. Tempted - X. In the Woods - XI. Benny Prays - XII. Fading away - XIII. The Tide turns - XIV. A Glimpse of Paradise - XV. A terrible Alternative - XVI. An Experiment - XVII. Perks again - XVIII. Adrift - XIX. The Border-Land - XX. Life at the Farm - XXI. An Accident - XXII. Recognition - XXIII. The Question settled - XXIV. The Reward of Well-doing - - - - -CHAPTER I. - -Brother and Sister. - - Perhaps while in our glowing grate - The cheerful blaze is rising higher - There's some one sitting desolate - Without a spark of fire. - - Oh, what are we, that God hath blessed - Our winter homes and made them glad, - While other hearts are sore distressed, - While other homes are sad? - - -It was getting dark, though the Town Hall clock had only just -struck four. But a fog had hung all over Liverpool since morning, -and everything was as damp and dismal as it well could be; and now, -as evening came on, the fog had settled into a downright drizzle, -converting the streets into what seemed to Nelly Bates (who was -crouched in the shadow of St. George's Church) to be endless puddles. - -"I wish Benny would come," said she to herself. "I wonder what has kept -him? He said he'd be here when the clock struck four." - -And she wrapped her tattered clothes more closely around her, and looked -eagerly down Lord Street and up and down Castle Street. But no Benny -appeared in sight. - -"I'm glad as how they's lightin' the lamps, anyhow. It'll make it feel a -bit warmer, I reckon," she went on, "for it's terrible cold. But Benny -won't be long now, nohow. I hope he's sold all his fusees." - -And she looked wistfully at the unsold matches lying in her lap. Then, -after a pause, she went on again, - -"I's had desp'rate bad luck to-day. I reckon the gen'lmen thinks it too -much trouble to take off their gloves to get at the coppers. I wonder if -they know what it is to be cold and hungry like me?" - -And the child moved a little farther into the shadow of the church, to -escape the keen cold blast that swept up from the river. - -Little Nelly Bates was a delicate-looking child, with a pale, thoughtful -face, and big, round, dreamy-looking eyes. She had none of that wolfish -expression that so often characterizes the street Arabs of our large -towns and cities; but, on the contrary, there was an air of refinement -about her that was difficult to account for. Poor little waif! Her own -mother she could not remember. She had only known a stepmother--a cruel, -drunken woman; and, alas! her father was no better. Almost as soon as -she could walk she had been sent into the streets with her brother -Benny, who was a year older, to get her living as best she could. Never -knowing a parent's love, the affections of these two children had gone -out to each other. Each to each was more than all the world beside. At -the time our story opens Nelly was nine years of age, and Benny, as we -said, a year older. - -Still the minutes dragged along, and Benny came not. The 'busses were -crowded with people outside and in, wrapped in huge warm overcoats, and -all down Lord Street she watched the hurrying crowds bending their steps -homewards. And she tried to picture their cheerful homes, with great -blazing fires, and happy children running to greet them, and wondered -how none of them ever paused to notice her, shivering there in the -shadow of the church. - -At length the great clocks all around began to strike five, and Benny -had not come; a sense of unutterable loneliness crept over the child, -and she began to cry. Besides, she was hungry and cold, and there was -a great fear in her heart that something had befallen her brother. The -last stroke of the Town Hall clock, however, had scarcely died away -when she heard the patter of bare feet around the corner, and the next -moment her brother, panting and breathless, stood before her. - -"Oh, Nell!" he burst out, "I's just soft, I is. I's missed a hour in -the time. I never did think I was sich a fool. But can't be helped now, -nohow." - -"I was afraid you'd got hurt, Benny; but I don't care now you're all -right," said Nelly, looking proudly at the flushed face of her sturdy -young brother. - -"Me hurt? Oh, never fear! I knows how to take care of myself. But what -luck, Nell?" - -"Bad, Benny, very bad. Nobody wanted matches to-day." - -For a moment Benny was silent, then he burst out, - -"By golly, Nell! what's us to do? You know what the guv'nor said when we -came away this morning?" - -"Ay," said Nelly. "But 'ave you 'ad bad luck too?" - -"Horful, Nell--simply horful!" - -And for a moment the children looked at each other in blank dismay. Just -then a gentleman was seen crossing the street carrying a portmanteau. - -"Here's a gent with a portmantle," whispered Benny to his sister. "I'll -try my luck! Foller me, Nell, as quick as you can." And off he darted -across the street. - -"Carry yer bag, sir?" said he, stepping in front of the gentleman; and -there was something very appealing in his tone as he spoke. - -The gentleman looked kindly down into the two honest-looking eyes that -flashed in the gaslight. - -"What will you take the bag to the ferry for?" he inquired. - -"For what you please to give," said Benny sturdily. "Times is bad at -present, and little chaps like us is glad to 'ave what we catches." - -"Oh, that's it, is it? But I'm afraid this bag is too heavy for you." - -"Oh, never fear," said Benny, as he got hold of the portmanteau. "I'se -'mazing strong, and I ken carry this like winkin'." And he trotted down -the street before the gentleman in a way that showed he was in earnest -about the matter. - -The gentleman looked after the little fellow with an amused smile, but -volunteered no further remark. - -Meanwhile little Nelly, who had become stiff and cramped with cold, -followed at a little distance, taking care, however, that Benny did -not get out of her sight. On reaching the bridge that led down to the -landing-stage, Benny turned round, and, seeing his sister behind, -shouted back, - -"Stay here, Nell, till I come back--I'll be no time sca'ce." And down -the bridge he trotted, evidently glad that he was so near laying down -his burden. - -"Woodside boat, sir?" said he, turning round to the gentleman. - -"Yes, my lad." - -"Here we is, then, jist in time." And down the gangway he went at a -sharp trot, and into the saloon, letting the bag down on one of the -seats with a thump. "There you be, sir. Couldn't a-been sarved quicker -by a bigger chap." - -"All right, my little fellow," and he held out his hand. - -Benny's eyes gleamed as he caught sight of something white between the -gentleman's finger and thumb. - -"Be jabbers! it's a thrip'ny," was his mental soliloquy, as he eagerly -clutched the coin; and bowing his thanks as politely as he knew how, -he dashed up the gangway with the fleetness of the wind, muttering to -himself, "Shouldn't wonder if 't was a fo'penny, arter all." Standing -under a lamp, he took the coin out of his mouth and looked at it. "Oh, -glory!" he ejaculated; "if 't ain't haaf a bob. Murder and turf! this -are a catch!" And he turned two somersaults on the stage by way of -expressing his delight, unfortunately, however, planting his foot in his -second revolution in the stomach of a young gentleman who was hurrying -down to catch the boat. - -The gentleman soon recovered his sudden loss of wind, though the dirty -footprint on his immaculate coat was not so easily removed. - -"Beg pardon," said Benny, in a fright, and hurried away just in time to -escape a vigorous kick aimed at him by the infuriated young gentleman. -"My stars and stockings!" he soliloquized, as he hurried up the bridge -to join his sister. "If he 'ad a-catched me, I'd a-got a wolloping, an' -no mistake. Hallo, Nell! what's a matter?" he said, as he saw great -tears on the cheeks of his little crouching sister. - -"I'se so cold, Benny--oh, so very cold!" sobbed the little girl. - -"Never mind, Nelly, I'll soon get yer warmed up. Look here, I'se got -haaf a bob, and a good warming into the bargain. Now for a roast tater, -my gal, and you'll feel as right as ninepence." - -And, taking his sister by the hand, they hurried away at a quick trot, -lessening their pace only when they were quite out of breath, and Nelly -declared she was quite warm. - -"Here's the tater man," said Benny; "now for't, my gal. Pennorth o' -taters--hot, plaise, an' a good sprinkle o' salt," said Benny, with -quite an air of importance. - -"All right, my young gent, 'ere you are;" and the man put three -moderate-sized potatoes into Benny's outstretched palms. - -"Now for old Joe's fire, Nell, where the roads is a-mendin';" and once -more they hurried away at the same quick trot. - -In the next street they caught sight of the glowing grate of Joe Wrag, -the night watchman, and of Joe himself, sitting in the doorway of his -little wooden hut. - -"You ax him, Nell," whispered Benny; "he winna say no to you." - -"May we eat our taters by your fire, Joe?" said the plaintive voice of -little Nelly, as she placed her tiny hand on the fence, on which a red -light was burning. - -"What dost 'a say, little woman?" said Joe, in a rough though not -unkindly voice. - -"May we eat our taters by your fire, please--Benny an' me?" - -"Ay, ay, my little 'arties. Come along, I'll make room for 'e here;" and -honest old Joe moved aside to make room for the little waifs who sought -shelter from the biting cold. - -"By golly, Nell!" said Benny, as he felt the grateful warmth of the -fire, and dug his teeth into the potato, "ain't this sumpshus?" - -"Ay, Benny," was all the child's answer, as she greedily devoured the -two potatoes that Benny had insisted was her share. - -Then there was silence between them for awhile, and Joe went out and -heaped more fuel on the grate, while Nelly kept her eyes steadily -fixed on the fire. What did the child see as she gazed into its glowing -depths? For ever and anon a sweet smile played around the corners of her -mouth, and spread over her pale thoughtful face, lighting it up with -a wonderful beauty, and smoothing out the lines of care that at other -times were only too visible. - -Meanwhile Benny was busily engaged counting his money. Fourpence he -laid aside for the purpose of purchasing stock for the morrow's sale, a -penny he had spent in potatoes, and still he had threepence to the good, -besides the sixpence the gentleman gave him, which was clear profit. The -sixpence was evidently a great prize to him, for he looked at it long -and earnestly. - -"Wish I could keep it for mysel'," he muttered; "but it's no go--the -guv'nor will 'ave to 'ave it. But the coppers I'll keep 'ginst bad -times. Here, Nell," he said, nudging his sister, "you keep these 'ere -coppers; and then if the guv'nor axes me if I has any more, I can tell -him no." - -"All right, Benny." And again the great round eyes sought the glowing -grate, and the sweet smile played over her face once more. - -"What are 'e looking at, Nell?" said Benny, after a pause. "You look as -'appy as a dead duck in a saucepan." - -"Oh, Benny, I see such beautiful pictures in the fire. Don't you -'members on fine days how we looks across the river and sees the great -hills 'way behind Birkenhead, such miles an' miles away?" - -"Ay, I 'members. I'll take 'e across the river some day, Nell, when I'se -richer." - -"Will 'e, Benny? I shall be so glad. But I sees great hills in the fire, -an' trees, an' pools, an' little rivers, an' oh! such lots of purty -things." - -"Queer!" said Benny. "I don't see nowt o' sort." - -Then there was silence again, and Joe--who had been to see that the -lamps at each end of the torn-up street were all right--came up. - -"How are 'e now, my 'arties? Are 'e warmer'n you was?" - -"Ay, Joe, we's nice now," said Nelly; "an' we's much 'bliged to you for -lettin' us come." - -"Oh, ye're welcome. But ain't it time you was to home?" - -"What's o'clock?" said Benny. - -"Seven, all to a minit or so." - -"Ay, then, we must be off," said the children in chorus; and wishing Joe -good night, they darted off into the wet, cold street, and disappeared -in the gloom. - -"Purty little hangel!" said Joe, as he stood looking up the street long -after they had disappeared. "I wonder what will become o' her when she -grows up?" - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -Addler's Hall. - - The whole court - Went boiling, bubbling up from all the doors - And windows, with a hideous wail of laughs - And roar of oaths, and blows, perhaps.... I passed - Too quickly for distinguishing ... and pushed - A little side door hanging on a hinge, - And plunged into the dark. - --Elizabeth Barrett Browning. - - -On the western side of Scotland Road--that is to say, between it and -the Docks--there is a regular network of streets, inhabited mostly by -the lowest class of the Liverpool poor. And those who have occasion to -penetrate their dark and filthy recesses are generally thankful when -they find themselves safe out again. In the winter those streets and -courts are kept comparatively clean by the heavy rains; but in the -summer the air fairly reeks with the stench of decayed fish, rotting -vegetables, and every other conceivable kind of filth. - -The children, that seem to fairly swarm in this neighbourhood, are -nearly all of a pale, sallow complexion, and of stunted growth. Shoes -and stockings and underclothing are luxuries that they never know, and -one good meal a day is almost more than they dare hope for. Cuffs and -kicks they reckon upon every day of their lives; and in this they are -rarely disappointed, and a lad who by dodging or cunning can escape this -daily discipline is looked upon by the others as "'mazin' cute." - -To occupy two rooms is a luxury that only comparatively few families -indulge in. Why should they pay rent for two rooms when one will answer -the purpose? "We know a trick worth two o' that," is their boast. And so -year by year they bid defiance to all law and authority. - -The police rarely, if ever, venture into this neighbourhood alone, or if -one should be foolish enough to do so, he has generally to pay dearly -for his indiscretion. House agents and policemen are objects of special -aversion. - -A friend of ours, some years ago, came into considerable property in -this neighbourhood, and employed a young man who was new to the work -to collect the rents for him. On entering the first house the agent was -confronted by a big, villainous-looking man, who demanded in a surly -tone what he wanted. - -"I am come for the rent," said the agent. - -"Oh, you have, have you?" was the reply. - -"Yes." - -"Ah! Did anybody see you come in?" - -"No." - -And instantly seizing a huge poker and waving it in the air, he shouted -to the affrighted agent, with a terrible oath, "Then I'll take care -nobody ever sees you go out." - -This had the desired effect, and the terrified agent escaped for his -life. At the next house at which he called he was received very blandly. - -"So you have come for the rint, have you?" - -"Yes, that is my business." - -"Ah, yes, indeed, very proper. Could you change a five pun' note, now?" - -"Oh, yes." - -"That will do." Then raising his voice to a loud pitch, he shouted, -"Mike, come down here; there's a chap that 'as five pun' in his pocket; -let's collar him--quick!" - -And a second time the affrighted agent fled, and gave up the situation -at once, vowing he would never enter any of those streets again while he -lived. - -It was to this neighbourhood that Benny Bates and his sister wended -their way, after leaving old Joe and his warm fire. Whether the -lamplighter had neglected his duty, or whether some of the inhabitants, -"loving darkness rather than light," had shut off the gas, is not -certain; but anyhow Bowker's Row and several of the adjacent courts were -in total darkness. - -This, however, seemed no matter of surprise to Benny and little Nell, -who wended their way without difficulty along the rough, ill-paved -street. At length they turned up a narrow court, darker and dirtier even -than Bowker's Row, which went by the name of "Addler's Hall." About -half-way up this court they paused for a moment and listened; then, -cautiously pushing open a door, they entered the only home they had ever -known. - -Much to their relief, they found the house empty. A lump of coal was -smouldering in the grate, which Benny at once broke up, and soon a ruddy -glare from the fire lighted up the dismal room. - -The furniture consisted of a three-legged round table, a chair minus -a leg, and a three-legged stool. On the window-sill there was a glass -bottle with a candle stuck in the neck, and under the stairs there -was a heap of rags and shavings, on which Benny and his sister slept. -A frying-pan was suspended against the wall near the fireplace, and -several cracked cups and saucers, together with a quart mug, stood on -the table. The only other article of furniture was a small cupboard in -a corner of the room close up to the ceiling, placed there, no doubt, to -be out of the way of the children. - -Drawing the chair and the stool close up to the fire, Benny and his -sister waited the return of their parents. - -Outside, the wind moaned and wailed, and whistled through the keyhole -and the chinks in the door, and rattled the paper and rags with which -the holes in the window were stopped. And as the children listened they -shivered, and drew closer together, and nearer the fire. - -"By golly!" said Benny, "this 'ouse is like a hair-balloon. I wish as -how we could keep the wind out." - -"You can't do that, Benny; it creeps in everywheres." - -"Are 'e cold, Nell?" - -"No, not very; but I's very hungry." - -Just then an uncertain step was heard in the court outside, and the next -moment their stepmother staggered into the room. - -"Now, out of the way, you brats," was her greeting, "while I cooks your -faather's supper." - -And without a word they got out of her way as quickly as possible, for -they saw at a glance she was not in the best of humours. They were -pleased to see, however, that she had brought with her a loaf of bread, -some butter, and several red herrings, and so they were hopeful that for -once they would get a good supper. - -The supper was not quite ready when their father came in, flushed and -excited. - -"Where's the brats?" was his first angry exclamation, glancing round the -room. - -"There," said his wife, pointing under the stairs, where the children -were crouched. - -"Come out here, you young vermin; quick! do you hear?" - -And the frightened children came out and stood before him. - -"Have you brought me that sixpence that I told yer? For, if you -ain't," said he, scowling at Benny, "I'll loosen yer hide for yer in -double-quick time." - -"Ay," said the little fellow, producing the sixpence, "'ere it are." - -"Is that all you've got?" - -Benny shot a quick glance at his sister before replying, which, however, -did not escape his father's eye. - -"Ay," he said, stoutly; "I ain't got no more." - -"You lie, you villain!" roared the father; "fork it out this moment." - -"I tell yer I ain't got none," said Benny. Nelly was about to speak -here, but a glance from her brother silenced her. - -"Will you fork it out?" said the father again. - -"No," was the reply. - -In a moment Dick Bates had taken the leather strap from his waist, and -without mercy rained blow after blow upon the head and shoulders of his -child. - -At first Benny bore the blows without shrinking and without uttering a -cry; but this only the more aggravated the inhuman father, and faster -and more furious fell the blows, till the little fellow shrieked with -pain and begged for mercy. But there was no mercy in the father's heart, -and still the blows fell, till little Nelly, unable longer to bear it, -rushed in between her father and brother, saying, "You shall not beat -Benny so." - -"Oh, you want it too, do you?" roared he. "Then take that, and that, and -that." - -"Faather," said Benny, "will you strike Nell?" - -The question for a moment seemed to stagger him, and he looked down upon -the pleading face of his suffering child, and into those great round -eyes that were full of pain and tears, and the hand that was raised to -strike fell powerless to his side, and with a groan he turned away. - -What was there in the face of his little daughter that touched this -cruel, besotted man? We cannot tell. Perhaps he caught a glimpse in that -sweet face of his early love. - -It is said that he loved his first wife dearly, and that while she -lived he was tolerably steady, and was never unkind to her. He even went -with her to the house of prayer, and listened to her while she read the -Bible aloud during winter evenings. These were happy days, but when she -died all this was changed; he tried to forget his trouble in drink, and -in the companionship of the lowest and most degraded men and women. - -Then he married again, a coarse drunken woman, who had ever since led -him a wretched life; and every year he had become more drunken and -vicious. - -If he yet loved anything in the world, it was his "little Nell," as he -always called her. She was wonderfully like her mother, the neighbours -said, and that was doubtless the reason why Dick Bates continued to love -her when all love for everything else had died out of his heart. - -He had never treated her before as he had treated her to-night; it was a -new experience to the child, and for long after she lay on her heap of -shavings with dry eyes and hot cheeks, staring into vacancy. - -But when the last spark of fire had died out, and her father and -stepmother were asleep in the room above, turning to her brother, who -was still awake, she said, - -"Put your arm about me, Benny, will yer?" - -And Benny put his arm around his little sister, and pressed her face to -his bosom. And then the fountain of the child's tears was broken up, -and she wept as though her heart would break, and great sobs shook her -little frame, and broke the silence of the night. - -Benny silently kissed away the tears, and tried to comfort the little -breaking heart. After awhile she grew calm, and Benny grew resolute. - -"I's not going to stand this no longer," he said. - -"What will you do, Benny?" - -"Do? Well, I dunno, yet; but I's bound to do some'at, an' I will too." - -After awhile he spoke again. "I say, Nell, ain't yer hungry? for I is. I -believe I could eat a grave-stun." - -"I was hungry afore faather beat me, but I doesna feel it now," was the -reply. - -"Well, I seen where mother put the bread an' butter, and if I dunna fork -the lot I's not Ben Bates." - -"But how will yer get to it, Benny?" - -"Aisy 'nough, on'y you must 'elp me." - -So without much noise they moved the table into the corner of the room -underneath the cupboard, and placing the chair on the top of the table, -Benny mounted the top, and was able to reach the cupboard without -difficulty. - -A fair share of the loaf remained, and "heaps of butter," Benny said. - -"Now, Nell," said he, "we'll 'ave a feast." - -And a feast they did have, according to Benny's thinking, for very -little of either loaf or butter remained when they had finished their -repast. - -"What will mother say when she finds out?" said Nelly, when they had -again lain down. - -"We must be off afore she wakes, Nell, and never come back no more." - -"Dost 'a mean it, Benny?" - -"Ay do I. We mun take all our traps wi' us i' t' morning." - -"Where shall us go?" - -"Never fear, we'll find a shop somewheres, an' anywheres is better nor -this." - -"Ay, that's so." - -"Now, Nell, we mun sleep a bit, 'cause as how we'll 'ave to be stirring -airly." - -And soon the brother and sister were fast asleep, locked in each other's -arms. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -Roughing it. - - Ne'er saw I, never felt a calm so deep! - The river glideth at his own sweet will: - Dear God, the very houses seem asleep; - And all that mighty heart is lying still. - --Wordsworth - - -Next morning Benny was stirring early, and when the first faint rays of -the coming day peeped through the dust-begrimed and patched-up window, -they saw the little fellow busily engaged in gathering together what -things he and Nelly possessed previous to their final departure from -home. - -Nelly still slept on, and several times the brother paused and looked -fondly down upon the fair face of the sleeping child. She looked very -beautiful, Benny thought, as she lay sleeping there, with a pink spot -glowing on either cheek, and the long flaxen hair thrown carelessly back -from the pale forehead. Once or twice she murmured in her sheep, and the -same happy smile spread over her face that he had noticed the evening -before when she sat gazing into Joe Wrag's fire. - -"I wonder what she's a-dreamin' on?" he murmured to himself. "Perhaps -she sees the hills and flowers and trees agin." - -Then he set to work again turning over a heap of rubbish that had been -pushed as far back as possible under the stairs. At length a joyful -exclamation burst from his lips as he came upon a small heap of potatoes. - -"Here's a fortin', an' no mistake; Nell and I'll be able to walk off the -lot." - -And he brought them out into the room, and wrapped them up in an old -handkerchief that his stepmother used to tie round her head when she -went out. There were scarcely twenty potatoes altogether, but to Benny -they seemed almost an inexhaustible supply. - -This being done, he sat down beside his sleeping sister and waited until -he should hear any movement in the room above. Gradually the cold grey -light of the morning stole into the room, revealing all its squalor and -dinginess, and Benny felt that he and Nelly would have to make their -escape soon, or else they might be prevented. He felt very loth to awake -his sister, she slept so sweetly, and he did not know where they might -find a shelter when darkness covered the earth again. But there was no -help for it. His father might awake any moment, and the neighbours would -soon be stirring in the court and in Bowker's Row. So bending over her, -he pressed his lips upon her brow: still she moved not. - -"Nelly," he whispered, "it's time to be movin'." - -Slowly the great round eyes opened, and looked languidly up into his -face. - -"Come, stir your pegs, Nell, or we'll be too late." - -"Oh, ay," she said, as the recollection of the previous evening came -back to her. "We 'as to be off to-day, ain't we?" - -"Ay, my gal, we's goin' on our own 'ook now, so look alive." - -"Does yer think we's doin' right, Benny?" - -"'Course we is, Nell; I'll take care o' yer, never fear." - -Thus reassured, she followed Benny silently out of the house and into -Bowker's Row; then seeing that no one was about, they set off at a quick -trot in the direction from whence they had come the previous night. - -Nelly had the utmost confidence in Benny's sagacity, and though she had -doubted for a moment whether they were doing the wisest thing in the -course they were taking, yet she had little doubt that her brother would -be equal to every emergency, and that he would find her a home of some -sort. And the child had a vague, undefined feeling that they could not -be worse off, whatever might happen. To see her Benny punished as she -had so frequently done of late was "pain and grief" to her: not only had -he suffered the pinchings of cold and hunger during the day, but he had -been compelled to bring home a certain amount every night, or else take -the consequences of her father's senseless anger. - -And as the child thought of these things she could not wonder that Benny -had resolved to run away and seek a home somewhere else. But what of -herself? She had on the whole been much better treated, and she thought -perhaps her father did not well know what he was doing last night, as -he was in drink. Ought she, then, to run away? "Ay, but I canna leave -Benny," was her mental response; and having settled that question, -she seemed perfectly satisfied to share the fortunes of her brother, -whatever they might be, and help him as best she could to fight the -battle of life. - -As for Benny, he had no qualms of conscience about the matter. He had -never heard the command, - -"Honour thy father and thy mother," and even if he had, it would not -have troubled him on the present occasion. He had a feeling that he had -been wronged, cruelly wronged, and that he ought not to stand it any -longer. Once the question had crossed his mind, "Had he any right to -take those potatoes?" But he answered the question to himself by saying, -"Ain't I brought home a haaf a bob every night for th' week, an' then -bin kep' without supper? By jabbers, I's paid for those taters, and I'll -eat 'em." Moreover, his notions of right and wrong were of the vaguest -character. He had some dim recollection of his mother, and how she used -to tell him it was wrong to steal, and to tell lies, and to cheat. But -the more he tried to recall it, the vaguer the recollection became. Yet -sometimes when he was tempted to steal, and would look around to see -that no one was watching him, a voice within him would whisper, "Don't, -Benny, it is wrong to steal," and he would turn away with a sigh, -feeling that there was something in that voice that he dared not disobey. - -In after years he held firmly to the belief that his own mother was -permitted to be the guardian angel of his childhood, and that it was -she who whispered to him when he was tempted to do wrong. He has -also been heard to say, that though he regarded it as very wrong for -children, under ordinary circumstances, to leave their home without -their parents' consent, yet in his case he thought his action perfectly -justifiable. - -But we must leave this question, with the hope that none of the children -who read this story may be driven by cruelty and wrong to a similar -course of action, and must follow the little waifs as they threaded -their way through the dingy streets that cold December morning. Their -object was to reach Joe Wrag's fire before his watch ended, and in this -they were successful. Joe was standing before his hut, rubbing his hands -over the still glowing grate, though Benny noticed that the fire was -burning low. - -"We's brought some taters from hum, may we cook 'em on yer fire, Joe?" -said Benny, putting on as bold a face as he could. Joe looked at the -children for a moment without speaking. - -"Please do, Joe, like a good man," chimed in Nelly's plaintive voice. - -"Come along with yer, then. But how are 'e out so airly?" - -"Lots o' bisness on hand," was Benny's prompt reply. - -"There's some'at up wi' you youngsters, I reckon. But yer not goin' to -eat all these taters at once, are yer?" - -"Oh, no!" said Benny, "we on'y want two apiece, and we want you to keep -the rest till we comes agin." - -"Very likely story," said Joe, gruffly. "Where's yer bin stealin' 'em -from?" - -"Oh, nowheres, Joe," said Nelly. "We bringed 'em from hum, we did, for -sure." - -"Well, ain't that a-stealin' on 'em?" - -"No!" said Benny stoutly. "I's tooked 'em hum a haaf a bob every night -for t' week, and they b'longs to me." - -Joe shook his head dubiously, as if not certain of the soundness of -Benny's logic, but made no further reply. He, however, gave his aid -to the children in cooking their potatoes, which were soon done to a -nicety, and even gave them a piece of bread, the remains of his own -morning's repast. Thus fortified, the children were soon ready for the -duties of the day. - -Their first business was to go into Park Lane and get in a stock of -matches for the day's sale; this done, they separated and went their -different ways, agreeing to meet in the shadow of St. George's Church at -twelve o'clock, and at four, to report progress. - -Nelly's stand was near the junction of Lord Street, Church Street, -Paradise Street, and Whitechapel, going occasionally as far as the -"Sailors' Home." Benny, on the other hand, waited about near the -landing-stage, selling his matches if he could, but at the same time -looking out for an opportunity of carrying some gentleman's bag. - -But to-day Benny had another object in view, and that was to discover, -if possible, some place where he and his sister might sleep when night -came on. He knew of a place where, for the payment of a penny each, they -might sleep in a cellar on some dirty straw amongst a lot of rough boys. -But somehow Benny shrank from introducing his sister to such company as -there assembled night after night. He must find some place where they -could be alone, if possible, though he felt that that would be no easy -matter. - -The day was beautifully fine, with a clear frosty sky, and both Benny -and his sister carried on a brisk sale in fusees, and when they met at -noon they were in high spirits over the proceeds of the day. Still Benny -had found no place as yet where to spend the night. - -During the afternoon, however, his attention was directed to some -sailors who were caulking a boat not far from the George's Dock. The -boat he noticed was turned bottom upward, and that it had one end stove -in; evidently it had had rough handling somewhere. And besides this, -Benny noticed that there was a large quantity of hemp and tow on which -the sailors were kneeling while at their work. Several times during the -afternoon he took a look at the sailors, and when at length he saw them -lift up the boat and push the tow underneath, his mind was made up. - -"Stunnin'!" he ejaculated; "I b'lieve we is in luck's way to-day. -Couldna have bin better if it wer' a-made for us." - -Punctually at four o'clock the children were at their trysting-place. -They were both in high spirits, for their profits were larger than they -had been for many a day past. Benny especially was in high glee, for he -had the prospect of a comfortable lodging-place for the night, without -any fear of his father's fury, and was consequently eager to communicate -his discovery to Nelly. - -"Golly, Nell," was his greeting, using his favourite expression, "it's a -heap too cold to stick in one place. Let's off into Park Lane and git a -feed; we can 'ford it to-night." - -And off they started, hand in hand. The place to which they directed -their steps was not the most select, the character of the customers -being of no consequence, so long as the money was forthcoming. This fact -was well known to Benny, so he entered, leading his sister by the hand, -without any trepidation. It was a long narrow room in which they found -themselves, with several small tables placed at regular intervals down -the sides. A bright fire was burning in the farther end of the room, -near which Benny took his seat, requesting that "two penny loaves might -be brought, and a pennorth of cheese." - -They remained as long as they felt they dared do so, then again sought -the wintry streets. But the keen frosty air made them long for shelter, -and once more they sought the glowing grate of honest Joe Wrag. The -old man seemed pleased to see them, and made room for them in his hut, -though he said little. Oh, how the fire glowed and crackled in the keen -frosty air, revealing to little Nelly Bates scenes of wondrous beauty! -And as Joe watched her face glowing in the firelight, he muttered to -himself, "Purty little hangel; I hopes she'll grow up good, or--or -die--ay, or die!" - -It was after eight o'clock when they left Joe's warm hut, for Nelly had -pleaded so hard to stay that he could not deny her request. She seemed -to be twining herself around the old man's heart in a wonderful manner, -and but for his fury of a wife he would have taken her to his own home -when it became known to him that the children were homeless. - -It did not take them long to reach the boat; and having satisfied -themselves that they were not noticed, they crept underneath in a -"jiffey," as Benny would have expressed it. - -"Brimstone and treacle!" said Benny, as he put his hand on the large -heap of tow; "ain't this sumpshus? We'll be as snug as Jonar 'ere." - -"Ay, Benny, this is fine." - -"Let's shut out all the daylight fust, Nell, an' then the cold won't git -in." - -Thanks to the abundance of tow this was not difficult, and soon the -children were cuddled in each other's arms, feeling warmer than they had -felt for many a night past. It was a long time, however, before they -could get to sleep. To Nelly especially was it strange. And thoughts too -deep for them to express kept crowding into their minds, keeping them -wide awake. - -At length, however, a feeling of drowsiness began to creep over them, -and they were just dropping off to sleep when they were startled by a -footstep near them, and a hoarse voice muttering, as if in anguish, "O -Death, what dost thou mean?" - -For a moment the children clutched each other in terror; then they heard -the footsteps dying away in the distance, and their confidence returned -again. - -"Who could it be?" said Nelly. - -"A bobby, I 'specks," said Benny; "but he ain't catched us, so we's safe -'nough now." - -For awhile after they lay listening, but no other footsteps disturbed -them, and soon balmy sleep stole over them, sealing their eyelids, and -giving rest to their weary little heads and hearts. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -A Friend in Need. - - Friendship, peculiar boon of heaven - The noble mind's delight and pride; - To men and angels only given, - To all the lower world denied. - --Samuel Johnson. - - -The experiences of Benny and his sister during the next day were but -a repetition of what we recorded in the last chapter; but during the -second night they found the shelter of the boat but a poor substitute -for a home, and in the morning they were stiff and cramped through -lying so long in one position; and when they paid Joe Wrag their third -morning visit, the old man noticed that all was not right with them. -Nelly especially was gloomy and depressed. - -Joe Wrag was generally a silent man, and not given to asking many -questions; but when he saw great tears in Nelly's round eyes as she -sat gazing into the fire, he felt that he must know what was troubling -the child, and help her if he could. He had also a dim suspicion that -they had not been to their home of late, and he wondered where they -could have spent their nights; and, like Benny, he dreaded the idea of -little Nelly congregating with young thieves and vagabonds, and felt he -would rather a thousand times the child should die than that she should -grow up to be a wicked woman. So after reflecting for some time, and -wondering how he should best get at the truth, he burst out suddenly -with the question, - -"When were you last to hum, eh?" - -For a moment there was silence, and Benny looked at his sister as much -as to say, "That's a poser; we're in for it now." - -"Come, now," said Joe, seeing their hesitation, "let's 'ave nowt but -truth; out wi' it, an' it will be best in the end." - -"You tell 'im, Nell," said Benny, "'cause he'll b'lieve you." - -So Nelly, in her sweet pleading voice, told him all the story of Benny's -wrong, and of her father's cruelty, and how even she herself had not -escaped his anger. - -"And did he beat you, my purty?" said Joe, clenching his fist tightly at -the same time. - -"Ay, Joe; but I dunna think he know'd what he were a-doin'." - -For a few moments the old man's face worked as if in pain. Then he -muttered to himself, "Some'at must be done, an' no mistake; but what? -Eh, what?" Then he looked at the children again. "Don't yer think you'd -better go to hum again to-night?" he said; and he watched eagerly for -the effect of his question. Nelly was the first to speak. - -"Oh, no," she said; "we should get it worse nor ever. Dad would a'most -kill Benny." And the tears welled up into her eyes again. - -"I's not goin' to risk it," said Benny stoutly. "I's 'ad hidin's enough -to last me a lifetime." - -"Ay, ay," said Joe. "I wonder, now----" And he looked reflectively into -the fire. - -"What are 'e a-wonderin' on?" queried Benny. - -But Joe was silent. He had evidently got hold of some idea which he was -trying to work out. At length he looked up and said, - -"Now, away with yer, an' come here again this ev'ning at six o'clock. -D'ye hear?" - -"Ay, ay," was the response; and away they bounded, leaving Joe alone to -his meditations. - -Joe remained some time after they were gone in one position, scratching -his head most vigorously, and would doubtless have remained much longer -had he not been disturbed by the men who had come to their work, and -who set him at liberty from his watch until darkness should again come -down upon the earth. Joe walked leisurely to his home as if burdened -with some great thought, ate his morning meal in silence, and then went -to bed, and lay tossing for full two hours ere he could find a wink of -sleep. - -Joe Wrag had been for many years a complete enigma to a number of -well-meaning people, who had become much interested in this silent and -thoughtful man, and were anxious to know more about him than he cared -to reveal. Several "town missionaries" had tried to make something out -of him, but had utterly failed. He had never been known to enter a -house of prayer, and whether in the matter of religious knowledge and -belief he was a heathen or a Christian was an open question; and yet, -notwithstanding this, he lived a life that in many respects was worthy -of the imitation of many who made greater professions. - -Indeed, to be strictly accurate, Joe Wrag never made any profession -whatever of any kind, and yet he was as honest as the day, and as true -as steel. Honest, not because "honesty was the best policy." Nay, -policy never entered into his thoughts; but he was honest because he -could not be otherwise. His _soul_ was honest; and as for lying, he -loathed it as he would loathe a viper. Nothing could tempt him to be -untruthful. In fact, he recoiled as if by instinct from everything mean -and deceitful. What teaching he had received, or what influences had -surrounded him during his early life, we have never been able to gather. -He kept himself mostly to himself, and was silent about the past. Year -by year he moved along the even tenour of his way, ever ready to do -a kindly deed when opportunity presented itself, but never thrusting -himself where he felt he might not be wanted. He had a perfect horror of -appearing to be better than he really was; and it was thought that that -was his chief reason why he never made any profession of religion. - -About three o'clock Joe got up, and after partaking of a substantial -meal, wended his way to the neighbourhood of Copperas Hill. After -turning several sharp corners, he found himself in a small court -containing about half a dozen houses. Before one of the doors he paused -for a moment, then raised his stick, and gave a sharp rat-tat-tat. The -door was instantly opened by a woman who had evidently reached her -threescore years and ten. Yet she appeared hale and strong for her age, -and though poorly, was yet tidily attired. - -"Well, ye are a stranger," was her greeting. "I'm verra glad to see 'e, -though." - -"An' I'm glad to see you, Betty." - -"Well, come tha in. What's i' tha wind?" - -"Nowt much, Betty; but what thar is consarns you as much as me." - -"Well, out wi' it, Joe," said Betty, as soon as Joe had seated himself. -"No trouble, I 'ope?" - -"No, not that I knows on; but could 'e make room 'ere for a couple o' -lodgers--little 'uns, mind you--children, on'y 'bout so high?" holding -out his hand. - -"Well, what an idear, to be sure! What are ye a-dreamin' on?" - -"Your old man," said Joe solemnly, "was my mate for mony a year, an' -a good man he wur; an' if from that fur-off country he can see what's -doin' 'ere, he'd be mightily pleased for 'e to do, Betty, what I'm -a-axin' o' yer." - -"But I dunno that I quite understand," said Betty; "explain your meanin' -a bit more." - -And Joe, in a solemn voice, told the story of little Nell and her -brother Benny. "It mebbe, Betty," he said, "they're the Lord's little -'uns. I'm none o' the Lord's mysel'. I've tried to find 'im; but He -winna be found o' me. I'm none o' the elect. I've settled that for -more'n twenty year now. But if these bairns are the Lord's, we mustna -turn 'em away." - -"All bairns are the Lord's," said Betty; but Joe only shook his head, -and sat gazing into the fire. - -Before he left, however, it was settled that a bed should be made for -the children in the corner under the stairs, which would be near the -fire also. For this they were to pay a penny per night. - -"We mustna make paupers o' them, you know, Betty," was Joe's remark. - -It was also agreed that she should do what washing and mending the -children's clothes needed, for which they were to pay also, if they -could afford it. "If not," said Joe, "I'll make it square wi' you, -Betty." - -Punctually at six o'clock the children put in an appearance at Joe's -hut. They had had but poor luck during the day, and Benny did not feel -nearly so courageous as he had felt two days before. The prospect of -sleeping night after night underneath a boat was not so inviting as -he had imagined it would be; besides, there was the fear that their -hiding-place might be discovered, and that even this poor shelter might -be taken away from them at any time. - -He did not confide his fears to Nelly; he felt that it would be cruel -to do so; and she--whatever she may have felt--never uttered a single -word of complaint. She knew that "her Benny" had enough to bear, and she -would not add to his burden. - -Benny had been very much puzzled at Joe Wrag's manner in the morning, -and had wondered much during the day "what he 'ad been a-turnin' over in -his noddle." He was desperately afraid that Joe would try to persuade -him and Nelly to return to their home, or even insist upon their doing -so; and rather than do that, he felt that he would lose Joe's friendship -and warm fireside into the bargain. - -Joe was looking very abstractedly into the grate when they came up -to the fence, and for a moment they watched his rugged face with the -firelight playing upon it. But Benny, who could read his father's face -pretty cleverly, declared to himself that "he could make nowt out o' -Joe's." - -As usual, Joe made room for Benny in his little hut; but to-night he -took little Nelly very tenderly on his knee, and stroked her long flaxen -hair with his hard rough hand, muttering to himself the while, "Purty -little hangel; I reckon she's one o' the Lord's elect." - -Benny wondered for a long time when Joe was going to say something that -he could understand; but somehow to-night he did not like to disturb him -by asking questions. Nelly, on the contrary, was far away again from the -cold and dingy streets, and the ceaseless roar of the busy town, and -was wandering in imagination through sunny meadows where the turf was -soft and the grass was green. She fancied she heard the music of purling -streams, and the songs of happy birds in the leafy trees that waved -their branches over her. The air was fragrant with the scent of flowers -that she had heard of, but never seen, and weariness and cold she felt -no more. - -The voice of Joe banished the beautiful vision from the glowing grate, -and the child wondered if ever it would become a reality--if ever she -would dwell amid such scenes in a life that had no ending. - -"I've some'at to say to 'e, my dears," was Joe's first exclamation; and -the children looked up into his face, and wondered what was coming next. -"I've found a hum for 'e, and a reet good 'un, an' ye'r to go to-night." - -"Oh, scissors!" shouted Benny; and he ran into the street, and had -turned two somersaults ere he knew what he was doing; then stood on his -head for at least five seconds by way of cooling off, and what other -performances he might have gone through I cannot say, had not Joe called -him into the hut. - -Little Nelly said nothing; she only nestled closer to her benefactor, -and Joe felt great scalding tears dropping upon his hand, and knew that -her heart was too full for her to speak. Then he told them all about -their new home, and what would be expected of them, and how he hoped -they would be good and kind to the old woman, and always be honest and -truthful, and then when they died they might go to the good place. - -"Does folks go somewheres when they die?" said Benny, with a look of -astonishment. - -"Ay, Ben, that they do." - -"Oh, beeswax and turpentine!" he ejaculated, "that are a go!" - -But Nelly's face grew luminous, and her eyes fairly sparkled, as she -faintly grasped the idea that perhaps her dreams might come true after -all. - -They had no difficulty in finding their way to Tempest Court, or in -discovering the house of Betty Barker. The old woman gave them a rough -though kindly welcome, and Benny was soon at his ease. Their bed in -the warm corner under the stairs was, to use Benny's phrase, "simply -sumshus;" and next morning when they appeared before Joe, it was with -faces glowing with gladness and delight. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -"Oh, Death! what does thou mean?" - - To sleep! perchance to dream;--ay, there's the rub; - For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, - When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, - Must give us pause. - --Hamlet - - -We must now go back to the morning when Benny and his sister left their -home, and pay one more visit to "Addler's Hall." Dick Bates got up in -the morning with a splitting headache, and, if the truth must be told, -with an aching heart. His sleep had been disturbed by horrid dreams, -the recollection of which haunted him still, and made him feel anything -but comfortable. He had dreamt that he had been working near the docks, -and in going close to the edge of one of them he saw his two children -rise to the surface of the water clasped in each other's arms; and while -he looked at them, they opened their glassy eyes and cast upon him one -lingering, reproachful glance, then sank to the bottom again. Twice -during the night had this dream been repeated, and when he awoke in the -morning it was with a vague fear of impending evil. Dick Bates, like -many other hardened and cruel men, was at heart a great coward, besides -being very superstitious. He listened several times for any movement -downstairs, but all was still; and this only increased his alarm, for he -knew his children were in the habit of stirring early, and he saw by the -light that the morning was far advanced. - -We may judge, therefore, of his alarm when, on coming downstairs, he -found the room empty, and he thought, with a terror in his heart that -made the perspiration ooze from his forehead, that perhaps his children -had been driven by his cruelty to put an end to their existence. - -He tried to banish the thought as weak and childish, but he could not; -his nerves were completely unstrung to-day, and he did not seem at -all himself. When his wife came down he sent her into the neighbours' -houses, and into Bowker's Row, to inquire if any one had seen them. But -everywhere the same answer was given: no one had either seen them or -heard them. His wife characterized his fears as "bosh," and declared "he -wur wuss nor any owd woman. The brats'll turn up agin to-night, never -fear," she said; and Dick sincerely hoped in his heart that they would -do so. He was too late to get any work that morning, so he spent most -of the forenoon in the house, brooding over his fears. And while he sat -there on the low stool with his face buried in his hands, memories of -other and happier years crowded in upon his brain. His boyhood life in -the country seemed to him now, as he looked back at it through a long -vista of years, like a happy dream. And he was glad that his old father -and mother were dead, and did not know how low he had fallen. - -Then he thought of the morning when he had led his first young bride to -church, and of the few short years of happiness that had followed. He -remembered, too, the promise he had made her on her dying bed--that he -would take care of the children, and meet her in heaven. Alas! how he -had belied those solemn words! He had not cared for his children, he -admitted to himself with shame; but, on the contrary, he had cruelly -neglected them, had behaved towards them as the veriest brute. And now -perhaps they were dead--driven to death by his cruelty. - -Then other thoughts took possession of him. "If they're dead," he said, -"they are better off: what is there to live for? Better for 'em to die -now than to grow up to be like me an' Sall." - -Then he began to wonder what dying meant. "If I wur sartin," he said, -"that there wur nowt arter death, I'd die too." And he got up and walked -about the room; after awhile he sat down again, and buried his face in -his hands once more. "Mary used to say," he mused, "that bad people went -to a bad place an' was tormented for ever; but that if we was good, an' -trusted in the Saviour, we should go to 'eaven an' be 'appy for ever. -And poor owd father and mother used to say t' same. I remembers it very -well! Ah me, I've nearly forgot all sense o' it, though." - -And thus he mused hour after hour, heedless that his wife swore and -raved that "the brats had eat all the butter, and walked off all the -taters." - -When, however, he was made to comprehend this fact, he became less -concerned about his children, and a little before noon he started off in -search of work. But all the afternoon he was gloomy and depressed, and -instead of going to a public house, as was his wont when the day's work -was done, he set off home, much to the surprise of his mates, who grew -warm in a discussion as the evening advanced as to what "'ad a-comed -over Dick Bates." - -From seven to nine he sat in his own desolate home alone, for his wife -was in no humour to keep him company, and every patter of feet in the -court made him start and look eagerly towards the door, in the hope that -he would see it open, and his children enter; but the door did not open, -and his children never came. - -"I wouldna a-minded so much," he said, "if I hadna a-wolloped poor -little Nell;" and he vowed with a terrible oath that "he would treat 'em -better in t' future, if he ever had the chance." - -But when the clock in the steeple not far away struck nine, he started -up, muttering to himself, "I canna stand this: I wonder what's comed to -me? If 't bairns would come home, I reckon I'd be all right." But the -bairns did not come, and he started out to get a glass, to help him to -drown remorse. - -His mates tried to rally him, but they had to confess that it was "no -go;" and when at eleven o'clock he left them at the corner of the -street, and once more directed his steps towards Addler's Hall, they -touched their foreheads significantly to each other, and whispered it as -their opinion "that Dick Bates was a-goin' wrong in his noddle, and was -above a bit luny." - -When he reached his home, he opened the door with a beating heart. All -was silent, save the heavy breathing of his wife in the room above. -He went to the dark corner where his children slept, and felt with -his hands; but the bed, such as it was, was empty, and with a groan he -turned away and hid his face in his hands. And again his past life came -back to him more vividly than it had done for years. - -"I mun go an' look for 'em," he said. "I shall see 'em floating in one -o' the docks, as I did last night in my dream." And with a feeling -of despair in his heart he wandered forth again into the now almost -deserted streets. - -As we have before stated, it was a clear frosty night; not a single -cloud obscured the myriad stars that glittered in the deep vault -of heaven. And as Dick Bates wandered under the light of the stars -along the long line of docks, no one would have believed that this -anxious-faced man was the brutal drunkard that only on the previous -night punished his unoffending children without mercy. - -Was it God that was working in his heart, bringing back to him the -memories of other years, and awaking within him better thoughts? Who -shall say it was not? - -Still on he went, starting continually as he fancied he saw something -white on the dark still water. "How nice it would be," he muttered, "to -sleep for ever! to be free fra the worry an' trouble." But how could he -know that death was endless sleep? Might it not be, as his Mary said it -was, the beginning of a life that should never end? He was now near the -boat under which his children lay. It was his footstep that startled -them just as they were dropping off to sleep. It was his voice that -muttered the words, "O Death! what dost thou mean?" - -How near father and children had come to each other! but neither knew of -the other's presence: then they drifted apart again, to meet no more on -earth. There were only a few small vessels in the next dock, and all the -lights were out. - -"There they be, sure enough," said Dick, as something white, floating on -the surface of the water, caught his eye, and he went close up to the -edge of the dock, forgetful of the fact that the huge damp coping stones -had, by the action of the frost, become as slippery as glass. He had -scarcely planted his foot on one of the huge stones when it slipped from -beneath him; a piercing shriek rang out on the startled air, followed by -a plunge, a gurgling cry, and the cold water closed over him. - -A moment later a pale agonized face gleamed up from the dark water, a -hurried prayer floated up on the cold frosty air, "Saviour of my Mary, -save me!" then the water closed over him again. Two other times, at -longer intervals, Dick Bates' agonized and horror-stricken face appeared -for a moment on the surface; then the ruffled waters grew smooth, hiding -in their dark bosom the dead body of Richard Bates, whose soul had been -so suddenly called to its account. - -The next day the dead body was dragged to the surface, and conveyed -to the dead-house, where it was claimed by his wife. An inquest and a -funeral followed, of which Benny and little Nell never knew. And it -was well, perhaps, they did not. The knowledge would have been pain to -the little waifs, and they had already as much trouble as their little -hearts knew how to bear. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -In which Benny makes a Discovery. - - All unseen the Master walketh - By the toiling servant's side; - Comfortable words He speaketh, - While His hands uphold and guide. - --Baynes. - - -Christmas Day this year came upon a Wednesday, and, during the two days -preceding it, Benny did what he characterized as a "roaring bizness." -There were so many people leaving and arriving by all the ferry-boats -and at all the stations, that our hero was kept on the trot nearly all -the time. His frank open face seemed to most people, who had a bag or a -bundle to carry, a sufficient guarantee of his honesty, and they hoisted -their bag upon the little fellow's shoulder without any fear that he -would attempt to pry into its contents, or make off with it round some -sharp corner. - -For a time the "match business" was turned over entirely to Nelly's -management; and though the modest little girl never pushed her -wares--she was too shy for that--yet Benny declared she did "stunnin'." - -Many a gentleman, catching just a glimpse of the pale sweet face as he -hurried past, would turn to have another look at the child, and, without -taking any of her fusees, would put a penny, and sometimes more, into -the little thin hand. And Nelly would courtesy her thanks, unable to -utter a word. - -Benny declared "he liked Christmas-time 'mazin' well, and wondered why -folks didn't have Christmas a sight oftener than once a year." How it -was that coppers were so much more plentiful at this time of the year -than at any other time was to him a mystery. Poor little fellow! the -thought never seemed to enter into his small head that it might be that -people's hearts were more open at this festive season than at some -other times. However, Benny was not one that speculated long on such -questions; he only wished that people were always as ready to have their -bags carried, and always gave their pence as ungrudgingly. Once or -twice he felt a bit sad, and brushed away a hasty tear, when he saw boys -no bigger than himself wrapped up in great warm overcoats, and beautiful -little girls with fur-trimmed jackets and high-heeled dainty boots, -clasped in the arms of their parents as soon as they stepped from the -ferry, and then hurried away to a cab or to a carriage in waiting--and -then thought of his own cheerless life. "I specks they's mighty 'appy," -he said reflectively, and then hurried away to the other end of the -stage, where he thought he saw the chance of employment. - -On Christmas Eve Benny took his sister through St. John's Market, and -highly delighted they were with what they saw. The thousands of geese, -turkeys, and pheasants, the loads of vegetables, the heaps of oranges -and apples, the pyramids of every other conceivable kind of fruit, the -stalls of sweetmeats, the tons of toffee, and the crowds of well-dressed -people all bent upon buying something, were sources of infinite pleasure -to the children. There was only one drawback to their happiness, and -that was they did not know how to lay out the sixpence they had brought -with them to spend. If there had been less variety there would have been -less difficulty; but, as it was, Benny felt as if he would never be able -to decide what to buy. However, they agreed at last to lay out twopence -in two slices of bread and ham, for they were both rather hungry; and -then they speculated the other fourpence in apples, oranges, and -toffee, and, on the whole, felt very well satisfied with the results of -their outlay. - -It was rather later than usual when they got home, but old Betty knew -where they had gone, and, as it was Christmas Eve, she had got a bigger -fire in than usual, and had also got them a cup of hot cocoa each, and -some bun loaf to eat with it. - -"By golly!" said Benny, as he munched the cake, "I do wish folks 'ud -'ave Christmas ev'ry week." - -"You are a cur'us boy," said the old woman, looking up with a smile on -her wrinkled face. - -"Is I, granny? I specks it's in my blood, as the chap said o' his timber -leg." - -The old woman had told them on the first evening of their arrival, when -they seemed at a loss what name to give her, to call her granny; and no -name could have been more appropriate, or have come more readily to the -children's lips. - -"But could folks have Christmas any oftener if they wished to?" asked -little Nell. - -"In course they could, Nell," burst out Benny. "You dunna seem to know -what folks make Christmas for." - -"An I thinks as you dunno either, Benny." - -"Don't I, though?" he said, putting on an air of importance. "It's made -to give folks the chance of doing a lot o' feeding; didn't yer see all -the gooses an' other nice things in the market that the folks is going -to polish off to-morrow?" - -"I dunna think it was made purpose for that. Wur it, now, granny?" - -Thus appealed to, the old woman, who had listened with an amused smile -on her face, answered, - -"No, my child. It's called Christmas 'cause it is the birthday of -Christ." - -"Who's He?" said Benny, looking up; and Nelly's eyes echoed the inquiry. - -"Don't you know--ain't you never heerd?" said the old woman, in a tone -of surprise. - -"Nay," said Benny; "nothin' sense. Some o' the chaps says 'by Christ' as -I says 'by golly'; but I never knowed He was somebody." - -"Poor little dears! I didn't know as how you was so ignorant, or I -should have told you before." And the old woman looked as if she did not -know where or how to begin to tell the children the wonderful story, and -for a considerable time remained silent. At length she said, "I'll read -it to 'e out o' the Book; mebbe you'll understand it better that way nor -any way else." - -And, taking down from her shelf her big and much-worn Bible, she opened -it at the second of St. Matthew, and began to read in a tremulous -voice,-- - -"Now when Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judaea in the days of Herod the -king, behold, there came wise men from the east to Jerusalem, saying, -Where is He that is born King of the Jews? for we have seen his star in -the east, and are come to worship Him." - -And slowly the old woman read on until she reached the end of the -chapter, while the children listened with wide-open and wondering eyes. -To Nelly the words seemed to come like a revelation, responding to the -deepest feeling of her nature, and awakening thoughts within her that -were too big for utterance. Benny, however, on the contrary, could see -nothing particularly interesting in the narrative itself. But the art of -reading was to him a mystery past all comprehension. How granny could -see that story upon the page of her Bible was altogether beyond his -grasp. At length, after scratching his head vigorously for some time, he -burst out,-- - -"By jabbers! I's got it at last!--Jimmy Jones squeeze me if I ain't! -It's the specks that does it." - -"Does what?" said Nelly. - -"Why, the story bizness, to be sure. Let me look at the book through -your specks, shall I, granny?" - -"Ay, if you like, Benny." And the next minute he was looking at the -Bible with granny's spectacles upon his nose, with a look of blank -disappointment upon his face. - -"Golly! I's sold!" was his exclamation. "But this are a poser, and no -mistake." - -"What's such a poser?" said granny. - -"Why, how yer find the story in the book; for I can see nowt." And Benny -looked as disappointed as if he had earned nothing for a week. - -By much explaining, however, granny enabled him to comprehend in some -vague way how the mystery was accomplished; and then arose within the -heart of the child an unutterable longing to understand this mysterious -art fully, and be able to read for himself--a longing that grew in -intensity as evening after evening he tried, by granny's help, to master -the alphabet. In fact, it became a passion with the lad, and many an -hour in the weeks and months that followed he spent gazing at the -placards on the walls, and in trying to explain to the other Arabs that -gathered around him the meaning of the mysterious characters. - -Benny was naturally a sharp lad, and hence, though his opportunities -were few, his progress was by no means slow. Sometimes he startled Joe -Wrag by spelling out a long word that he had carried in his head the -whole of the day, and asking its meaning. Long words had an especial -fascination for him, and the way he brought them out in all sorts of -connections was truly amusing. - -Nelly manifested no desire to learn to read. If ever she thought about -it, it was only to regard it as something infinitely beyond her -capabilities; and she seemed content to remain as she was. But if she -could get granny to read to her a chapter out of St. John's Gospel, -she seemed to desire no higher pleasure. She would sit with a dreamy -far-away look in her half-closed eyes, and the smiles that old Joe Wrag -loved to see would come and go upon her face like patches of spring -sunshine chasing each other across a plain. She never said very much, -but perhaps she thought all the more. To honest Joe Wrag she seemed as -if ripening for a fairer country, and for a purer and nobler life. Not -that she ailed anything. True, she had a little hacking cough now and -then, and when she lay asleep a pink spot would glow on either cheek; -but nothing more than that. - -"Speretual things," mused Joe Wrag one night, as he sat in the door of -his hut looking into the fire, "are speretually discerned, an' I b'lieve -that child 'as rale speretual discernment: she looks a mighty sight -deeper than we thinks she do, that's my opinion. I should like to get -howld o' all that passes through her purty little noddle, the little -hangel--bless her! As for the boy, 'e's a little hanimal. I reckon -the passons would call him a materialist. I don't b'lieve 'e b'lieves -nothing but what 'e sees. No speretual insight in 'im--not a bit. P'raps -he's like me, don't belong to the elect. Ah, me! I wonder what the likes -o' us was born for?" - -And Joe went out, and heaped more fuel on the fire by way of diverting -his thoughts from a subject that was always painful to him. But when he -came back and sat down again, and the fire before him blazed up with -fiercer glow, the thoughts returned, and would not be driven away. - -"Bless her!" he said. "She sees in the fire only woods, an' meadows, -an' mountains, an' streams; an' I only see the yawning caverns o' hell. -An' to think I must burn in a fire a thousan' times bigger an' hotter -than that for ever and ever without a single moment's ease; scorching -on every side, standin' up or lyin' down, always burnin'! No water, no -light, no mercy, no hope. An' when a million million years are past, -still burning, an' no nearer the end than at the beginnin'. Oh, how -shall I bear it--how shall I bear it?" - -And big drops of perspiration oozed from his forehead and rolled down -his face, testifying to the anguish of his soul. - -"I canna understand it--I canna understand it," he went on. "All this -pain and suffering for His glory. What kind o' glory can it be, to bring -folks into the world doomed aforehand to eternal misery? to give 'em -no chance o' repentance, an' then damn them for ever 'cause they don't -repent! O Lord a mercy, excuse me, but I canna see no justice in it -anywhere." - -And once more Joe got up and began to pace up and down in front of the -fire; but the thoughts would not leave him. "'Whom He did foreknow,'" he -went on, "'them also He did predestinate.' Mighty queer, that a Father -should love a part o' His fam'ly an' hate the rest. Create 'em only to -burn 'em for ever an' ever! An' what's the use o' the burnin'? That -bangs me complete. If 't was to burn away the dross an' leave the metal, -I could understand it. I think sometimes there's jist a bit o' the right -stuff in me; an' if hell would burn up the bad an' leave the good, an' -give it a chance of some'at better, there 'ud be more justice in it, -seems to me. But what am I a-saying? It shows as how I'm none o' the -elect, to be talking to myself in this way. What a wicked old sinner I -be!" - -And once more Joe sat down with a jerk, as if he meant to say, "I'm not -going to be bothered with such thoughts any more to-night." But alas! he -found that thoughts would come, whether he would or no. - -"Pr'aps," he said, "we don't know nowt about it, none o' us. Mebbe God -is more marcyfuller than we think. An' I'm sadly banged about that -'makin' an end o' sin;' I don't see as how He can make an end o' sin -without making an end o' the sinner; an' whiles there is millions sich -as me in hell, there'll be no end to neither on 'em. I'm sadly out in my -reck'nin' somewheres, but 'pears to me if there was no sinners there 'ud -be no sin; an' the way to rid the univarse of sinners is to get 'em all -saved or kill 'em outright." - -Much more to the same effect Joe Wrag turned over in his mind that -night, but we must not weary the reader with his speculations. Like many -other of God's children, he was crying in the darkness and longing for -light. He had found that human creeds, instead of being a ladder leading -up into the temple of truth, were rather a house of bondage. Men had -spread a veil before the face of God, and he had not courage to pull it -aside. Now and then through the rents he caught a ray of light, but it -dazzled him so that he was afraid there was something wrong about it, -and he turned away his face and looked again into the darkness. And yet -the night was surely passing away. It wanted but a hand to take down the -shutters from the windows of his soul, and let the light--ay, and the -love of God that surrounded him, like a mighty ocean--rush in. But whose -hand should take down the shutters? Through what agency should the light -come in? Let us wait and see. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -Two Visits. - - Tell me the story slowly, - That I may take it in; - That wonderful redemption, - God's remedy for sin. - Tell me the story simply, - As to a little child; - For I am weak and weary, - And helpless and defiled. - --Hankey. - - -One clear frosty evening early in the new year two little figures -might have been seen threading their way along Old Hall Street, in -the opposite direction to the Exchange. It had not long gone five, -and numbers of clerks and warehousemen were crowding into the street -and hurrying in the direction of their several homes. But the little -figures dodged their way with great skill through the crowded street, -still holding each other by the hand and keeping up most of the time a -sharp trot. - -After pursuing a straight course for a considerable time, they turned -off suddenly to the right into a less frequented street. Then they took -a turn to the left, and then again to the right. It was very evident -they knew the streets well, for they wound in and out, now right, now -left, without the least hesitation. - -At length they reached a street where all was darkness, save where -here and there the flickering rays of a candle struggled through the -dirt-begrimed window. This was Bowker's Row, and Benny and his sister -paused for awhile before venturing into the darkness. - -For several days their little hearts had been aching with curiosity -to visit once more their old home. They had no wish to be seen, and -as for living again in Addler's Hall, that was altogether out of the -question. Still, they were filled with a curiosity that they could not -resist to peep at the old spot once more, and ascertain, if possible, -how far their father and stepmother were pleased or otherwise with their -disappearance. - -They had talked the matter over for several nights as they lay in each -other's arms in the warm corner under Betty Barker's stairs. They -admitted that there were difficulties, perhaps danger, in paying such -a visit; but at length curiosity became too strong for them, and they -resolved to risk it. - -With Nelly, too, there was something more than curiosity. -Notwithstanding his drunken habits and his cruelty to Benny, she loved -her father, for there had been times when he had made much of her, -and called her "his little Nell." Perhaps she did not love her father -very deeply. In comparison to "her Benny," he occupied indeed a very -third-rate place in her affections. Still he was her father, and now -and then he had been kind to her, and hence he was more to her than a -stranger, and her little heart longed for one more sight of his face. -They did not wait long at the end of Bowker's Row. Ascertaining that -the coast was tolerably clear, they darted up the street, and without -any one recognizing them, turned into Addler's Hall. From the window of -their late home a feeble light struggled, which satisfied them that the -house was not empty. - -"Take care," said Benny to his sister, "an' don't make no noise if yer -can 'elp it." - -"Right you are," whispered his sister, and with silent footfalls they -glided up to the door and listened. - -From within came the sound of voices, but they were the voices of -children--strange voices, too, they were. - -And Benny looked at his sister and whispered-- - -"By golly! this are a go. The owd folks 'ave flit, that's sartin." - -"Can yer get a peep through the winder, Benny?" said Nelly, with a -white, startled face. - -"Dunno, but I'll try;" and try he did, but without success. - -"Brimstone!" he whispered, scratching his head; "what's us to do? Oh, I -'ave it," he said at length. "Come 'ere, Nell. I's 'mazin' strong, an' I -can lift you 'igh 'nough to get a peep." - -And, taking his sister in his arms, he managed, not without considerable -difficulty, to enable her to look through the window and get a glimpse -of the inmates of the room. - -"Do 'e know 'em, Nell?" said Benny, after he had lifted her down very -carefully. - -"No, I dunno who they is; I've never seen 'em afore." - -"Well, then, we'll ax 'em." And without further ado he pushed open the -door. - -There were four hungry and neglected-looking children in the room, -the oldest of them about the same age as Benny. They looked up with -questioning eyes at the intruders, but said nothing. - -"Does you live 'ere?" said Benny, putting on a bold face. - -"Ay," was the response from all together. - -"How long?" said Benny. - -"Week afore last," answered the oldest lad. - -"Where's the folks as lived 'ere afore you comed?" - -"Dunno." - -"Ain't you ever heerd?" - -"Ay, we've heerd." - -"Where is they, then?" queried Benny. - -"Childer is drownded." - -"Golly! are that so?" and there was an amused twinkle in Benny's eye as -he put the question. - -"Ay," was the response; "we's heerd so." - -"Where's their faather?" was Benny's next question. - -"Dunno," said the biggest lad. - -"Ain't you heerd?" - -"Ay, we 'ave." - -"Where is he, then?" - -"Well, faather says he's gone to Davy Jones, but I dunno where that are." - -"Nor I too," said Benny, scratching his head. Then he looked at the -oldest lad again. - -"Did the man's missus go wi' him, does yer know?" he inquired. - -"Never heerd nothing 'bout 'er," said the lad. - -"An' yer knows nothin' more 'bout 'em?" - -"No, nothin'." - -"Mich 'bliged," said Benny, with an air of importance. And taking Nelly -by the hand, he walked out of the house. - -He hardly knew whether he was most pleased or disappointed with his -visit, so he said nothing to his sister until they had left Bowker's -Row behind them, and got once more into the region of gaslight. Then, -turning to his sister, he said, - -"What does yer think o' it now, Nell?" - -"P'r'aps father's mended, and 'as gone to live in a better 'ouse," was -the quiet reply. - -"Mos' likely," said Benny, and again they trudged on in silence. - -At length they paused in front of a chapel that abutted close on to the -street. A few people were dropping in quietly one after another, and -Benny wondered what they did inside. He had never been inside a church -or a chapel; they were most of them so grand, and the people that went -were dressed so well, that he had concluded long since that they were -not for such poor little chaps as he. But this chapel was anything but -grand-looking, and the people who were going in did not look very smart, -and Benny began to wonder if he might not dare take a peep inside. - -While he was speculating as to what he had better do, a gentleman who -had been standing in the vestibule came out, and said in a kindly voice, - -"Well, my little ones, would you like to come inside?" - -"May us?" said Benny, eagerly. - -"Oh, yes," was the reply; "we shall be very glad to see you, and there -is plenty of room; come this way." - -And without a word they followed him. - -"Here," he said, pushing open a green baize door, "I will put you in my -pew; you will be nice and comfortable there, and none of my family will -be here to-night." - -For a few moments the children hardly knew whether they were awake or -dreaming; but at length they mustered up sufficient courage to look -around them. - -The place they thought was very large, but everything felt so snug and -warm that they almost wished they could stay there all night. Still the -people dropped in very quietly and orderly, until there were between -two and three hundred present. Then a gentleman opened the organ and -began to play a voluntary; softly at first, then louder, swelling out in -rich full tones, then dying away again, like the sighing of a summer's -breeze; anon bursting forth like the rushing of a storm, now rippling -like a mountain rill, now wailing as a child in pain; now rushing on as -with shouts of gladness and thanksgiving, and again dying away like the -wind in far-off trees. - -Nelly listened with open mouth and wondering eyes, oblivious to -everything but the strains of music that were floating all around her. -And Benny sat as if transfixed. - -"By golly!" he whispered to Nelly, when the piece was ended, "if I ever -heerd sich music as that afore. It's made me cold all over; seems to me -as if some one were pouring cold water adown my back." - -But Nelly answered nothing; her attention was attracted to a gentleman -that stood alone on a platform with a book in his hand. Nelly thought -his voice was strangely musical as he read the words,-- - - "Jesus, lover of my soul, - Let me to Thy bosom fly, - While the nearer waters roll, - While the tempest still is high. - Hide me, O my Saviour, hide, - Till the storm of life be past; - Safe into the haven guide: - Oh, receive my soul at last." - -Then all the people stood up to sing, and the children thought they had -never heard anything half so sweet before. Great tears welled up in -Nelly's brimming eyes and rolled down her cheeks; though if any one had -asked her why she wept, she would not have been able to tell. - -Then followed a prayer full of devout thanksgiving and of earnest -pleading. Then came another hymn-- - - "Would Jesus have a sinner die? - Why hangs He then on yonder tree? - What means that strange expiring cry? - Sinners, He prays for you and me: - Forgive them, Father, oh! forgive; - They know not that by Me they live." - -And once more the congregation stood up to sing. Nelly was even more -affected than during the singing of the previous hymn, and while they -sang the last verse-- - - "Oh, let me kiss His bleeding feet, - And bathe and wash them with my tears, - The story of His love repeat - In every drooping sinner's ears, - That all may hear the quick'ning sound, - Since I, even I, have mercy found,"-- - -she fairly broke down, and, hiding her face in her hands, she sobbed -aloud. - -She soon recovered herself, however, when the preacher began to speak. -Clear and distinct his words rang out:-- - -"Let the wicked forsake his ways, and the unrighteous man his thoughts, -and let him return unto the Lord, and He will have mercy upon him; and -to our God, for He will abundantly pardon." - -And Nelly eagerly drank in his words as he went on to tell how we were -all wanderers from our Father's house; and how the Father's heart -yearned towards us, and how He had invited all to return home, giving -the same invitation to every one of His children, and promising an -abundant pardon to all that would come. And then he told, by way of -illustration, the beautiful parable of the Prodigal Son, and concluded -with an earnest exhortation to all the unsaved to come to the Saviour -that very night, and to come just as they were. - -Nelly felt that she would very much like to "come to the Saviour," but, -alas! she did not know how. And when she saw several persons leave -their pews and kneel around the communion, she wondered if they were -"prodigals going home to the Father." - -But what of Benny? Alas! if Joe Wrag had seen him that evening, he would -have been more than ever convinced that he was none of the elect, and -that he had not one particle of spiritual discernment. The words of the -preacher seemed to have a very soothing influence upon our hero, for -scarcely had he uttered twenty words of the sermon ere Benny was fast -asleep. Nor did he wake again till near the end of the service, when he -was startled by a strange voice speaking. - -It was one of the men that Nelly had noticed kneeling at the communion. -The man stood up, and with a face radiant with his new-found joy, he -said, in broken accents, - -"Oh, friends, thank the Lord for me, for I have found the Saviour!" - -Evidently he intended to have said more, but, overcome by his emotion, -he sat down and hid his face in his hands. - -"I'm glad the chap found 'im," said Benny to his sister, as they hurried -homeward, "for he seemed desp'rate cut up 'bout it." - -But Nelly did not answer, she was too full of what she had seen, and -heard, and felt, to speak. - -The next evening, long before service-time, they were waiting around the -chapel door, and when at length the door was opened, they were welcomed -by the same gentleman that had spoken to them the previous evening, and -put into the same pew. And once more was Benny delighted with the music, -and once more was he soothed to sleep by the sermon. - -But not so Nelly. As the preacher explained that wonderful text, "For -God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that -whosoever believeth in Him might not perish, but have everlasting life," -she seemed to see more clearly what the preacher meant on the previous -night. And while he dwelt on the word "whosoever," she felt that she was -included in this invitation of mercy. In fact, it seemed to her as if a -great deal the preacher had said had been for her special benefit, and -that for _her_ the Saviour had provided a home more beautiful than any -of the pictures she had seen in Joe Wrag's fire. - -As they were leaving, near the close of the service, a young gentleman -placed his hand on Benny's shoulder, and said, - -"Well, my little man, I hope you have found the Saviour." - -"Lor' a massy!" said Benny, with a look of surprise upon his face, -"are that little chap lost agin? He can't be well looked arter, that's -sartin." - -"You don't understand," said the young man; "but perhaps I should have -asked if the Saviour has found you?" - -"Not that I knows on," said Benny stoutly. "Nobody finds me, I finds -myself." - -"Dear me!" said the young man, "you mistake my meaning altogether." - -"Does I?" - -"Yes, my little fellow. But I will talk with you again some other time, -when there is more time." - -"Will yer?" - -"Yes; but now good night." - -"Good night," said Benny and Nelly in chorus, and once more they left -the warm house of prayer for the cold and wintry street. - -"You would understand better, Benny," said his sister, as they journeyed -homeward, "if yer would listen to granny, an' not go to sleep whiles the -man is talkin'." - -"Dunno that I should, Nell. I's not 'cute 'bout those things like you -is; but let's 'urry on, for I's gettin' as cold as Jonar in the den o' -lions." - -Benny was very fond of Old Testament stories, and granny had humoured -his liking in this respect, but the way he mixed up the prophets, -patriarchs, and other noted Bible characters, was rather bewildering. - -"Never mind," he would say, when granny took him to task on this matter, -"so long's I gets hold o' the right hend o' the story, mixin' up the -names a bit makes no matter, as fur as I can see." - -So granny let him have his way, concluding that he would mend in that -matter as he got older. - -"But," the old woman would say, "he'll never be like little Nelly. Bless -her! I's afeard, sometimes, she's too good an' knowin' to live." - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -In which Joe Wrag has a Vision. - - They are going, only going, - Jesus called them long ago - All the wintry time they're passing - Softly as the falling snow. - - When the violets in the spring-time - Catch the azure of the sky, - They are carried out to slumber - Sweetly where the violets lie. - - -As winter slowly wore away, little Nelly's health began to fail. She -seemed weary and languid, and poor little Benny was at his wits' end to -know what to get her to eat. After spending more than he could really -afford in something that he thought would tempt her appetite, he was -grieved beyond measure when she would turn away her head and say, - -"I's very sorry for yer, Benny, but I canna eat it; I would if I could." - -And he would be compelled reluctantly to eat it himself, though he would -not mind going without food altogether if only "little Nell" could eat. -But he comforted himself with the thought that she would get better when -the spring-time came, and the streets were dry and warm. He might get -her into the parks, too, and she would be sure, he thought, to get an -appetite then. And so he kept up his spirits, and hoped for the best. - -"She's ripenin' for the kingdom," was Joe Wrag's reflection, as he -watched her pale face becoming thinner, and her great round eyes -becoming larger and more luminous day by day. "She belongs to the elect, -there ken be no doubt, an' the Lord don't intend for her little bare -feet to walk the cold, dirty streets o' Liverpool much longer. I reckon -she'll soon be walking the golden streets o' the shinin' city, where -there's no more cold, nor hunger, nor pain. I shall be main sorry to -lose her, bless her little heart, for I'm feared there's no chance of -me ever seein' her agin' when she's gone. I wonder if the Lord would -permit me to look at her through the bars o' the gate just for a minit -if I wur to ax Him very hard? 'T will be nice, anyhow, to think o' her -bein' comforted while I'm tormented. But it comes 'ard 'pon such as us -as don't belong to the elect, whichever way we looks at it." - -Sometimes Joe would leave his home earlier in the afternoon than usual, -and getting a nice bunch of grapes, he would make his way towards -Nelly's stand as the short winter's day was fading in the west. He would -rarely have much difficulty in finding his little pet, and taking her up -in his great strong arms, he would carry her off through bye-streets to -his hut. And wrapping her in his great warm overcoat, and placing her on -a low seat that he had contrived for her, he would leave her to enjoy -her grapes, while he went out to light the fire and see that the lamps -were properly set for the night. - -With a dreamy look in her eyes, Nelly would watch her old friend -kindling his fire and putting things "ship-shape," as he termed it, and -would think how well she had been cared for of late. - -By-and-bye, when the fire crackled and glowed in the grate, Joe would -come into the hut and take her upon his knee, and she would lean her -head against his shoulder with a heart more full of thankfulness than -words of hers could utter. And at such times, at her request, Joe would -tell her of the mercy that was infinite, and of the love that was -stronger than death. She had only been twice to the chapel, for when -she and Benny went the following week they discovered that there was -no service, and so disappointed were they that they had not gone again; -for the chapel was a long distance from Tempest Court, and she was tired -when the day's work was done, and to go such a long distance and find -the doors closed was anything but inviting. So they had not ventured -again. But Nelly had heard enough from granny and while at the chapel to -make her thirst for more. And so Joe became her teacher, and evening by -evening, whenever opportunity presented, he unfolded to her the "old, -old story of Jesus and His love." - -It made his heart ache, though, to talk of the "good tidings of great -joy," and think they were not for him. If the truth must be told, this -was the reason why he kept away from church and chapel. He had adopted -in early life the Calvinistic creed, and had come to the conclusion, -when about thirty years of age, that he belonged to the "eternally -reprobate." Hence, to go to church to listen to promises that were not -for him, to hear offers of salvation that he could not accept, to be -told of a heaven that he could never enter, and of a hell that he could -not shun, was more than his sensitive nature could bear. - -And yet, as he repeated to Nelly the wonderful promises of the Gospel, -they seemed sometimes to widen out, until they embraced the whole world, -including even him, and for a moment his heart would throb with joy and -hope. Then again the bossy front of his creed would loom up before him -like an iron wall, hiding the light, shutting out the sunshine, and -leaving him still in "outer darkness." - -One day Nelly rather startled him by saying, in her sweet childish way, - -"I does like that word who-so-ever!" - -"Do you?" said Joe. - -"Oh, yes, very much; don't you?" - -"Well, I 'ardly knows what to make on it." - -"How is that, Joe?" said Nelly, looking up with a wondering expression -on her face. - -"Well, 'cause it seems to mean what it don't mean," said Joe, jerking -out the words with an effort. - -"Oh, no, Joe; how can that be?" - -"Well, that's jist where I'm floored, Nelly. But it seem to be the fact, -anyhow." - -"Oh, Joe! And would the Saviour you've been a-tellin' me of say what He -didna mean?" And a startled expression came over the child's face, as if -the ground was slipping from beneath her. - -"No, no, Nelly, He could not say that; but the pinch is about what the -word do mean." - -"Oh, the man in the chapel said it meaned everybody, an' I reckon he -knows, 'cause he looked as if he wur sartin." - -"Did he, Nelly? Then perhaps he wur right." - -"Oh, yes, it's everybody, Joe. I feels as if it wur so inside." - -"Purty little hangel!" said Joe, in an undertone. "But there are -somethin' in the Book about 'out of the mouths of babes an' sucklings.' -I'll read it again when I gets home." - -That night, as Joe Wrag sat in his hut alone, while the silence of the -slumbering town was unbroken, save for the echoing footfall of the -policeman on his beat, he seemed to see the iron wall of his creed -melt and vanish, till not a shred remained, and beyond where it stood -stretched endless plains of light and glory. And arching the sky from -horizon to horizon, a rainbow glowed of every colour and hue, and in -the rainbow a promise was written in letters of fire, and as he gazed -the letters burst forth into brighter flame, and the promise was this, -"Whosoever cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast them out." And over -the distant hills a great multitude appeared in sight--so many, indeed, -that he could not number them. But he noticed this, that none of them -were sick, or feeble, or old. No touch of pain was on any face, no line -of care on any brow, and nearer and yet nearer they came, till he could -hear the regular tramp, tramp of their feet, and catch the words they -were chanting as if with one voice. How thankful he was that the great -town was hushed and still, so that he could not mistake the words. "And -the Spirit and the Bride say, Come. And let him that heareth say, Come. -And let him that is athirst come. And whosoever will, let him take the -water of life freely." And still nearer their echoing footfalls came, -when suddenly the glowing arch of fire in his grate fell together, and a -policeman passing his hut with measured tread, shouted,-- - -"Good night, Joe. We shall have a storm, I reckon; the wind has got up -terrible during the last hour." - -"Ay, ay," responded Joe, rubbing his eyes and wondering for a moment -what had come over him. - -"You seem hardly awake, Joe," laughed the policeman. - -"Believe I 'ave nodded a bit," said Joe. "But, bless me, how the wind do -howl!" - -"Yes, it'll be rough outside the 'bar,' I reckon. I hope we shall have -no wrecks. Good night." - -"Good night," said Joe, as he staggered out of his hut to mend the fire, -which done, he sat down to reflect. - -"Wur it a vision," he soliloquized, "or wur it a dream, or wur it -'magination? Wur it given to teach or to mislead me? But, lor', how -bright that promise did shine! I ken see it now. It are in the Bible, -too, that's the queerest part on it. An' how beautiful they did sing, -an' how they did shout out that part, 'Whosoever will.' Lor' bless us! -I can't get it out o' my noddle; nor I dunno that I want to, it's so -amazin' comfortin', and much more nearer my idear of what God ought to -be, 'cause as how there is no limit to it." - -And Joe scratched his head vigorously, which was a sure sign that some -new idea had struck him. - -"Well, bang me!" he ejaculated, "if I ain't floored again. Ain't God -infinite, an' if that be the case He must be infinite 'all round.' An' -that bein' so, then His power's infinite, and His marcy's infinite, an' -His love's infinite, an' He's all infinite. No limit to nothin'. An' if -that be so, it don't square nohow with His love an' marcy stoppin' just -at the point where the elect leaves off an' the reprobate begins." - -And Joe took a long iron rod and stirred up the fire until it roared -again, muttering to himself the while. "Well, if I ain't completely -banged. I'll ax little Nell. I b'lieve she knows more about it now than -I do, by a long chalk." - -By this time slates and chimneypots began to drop around him in a -decidedly dangerous fashion, and he had again to seek the shelter of his -hut. But even there he did not feel quite safe, for the little wooden -house rocked and creaked in the might of the storm, and threatened to -topple over altogether. - -There was no longer any chance of meditation, so he had to content -himself listening to the roar of the storm. Sometimes he heard its voice -moaning away in the distant streets, and he wondered where it had gone -to. Then he heard it coming up behind his hut again, at first quietly, -as if meditating what to do; then it would gather strength and speed, -and he would listen as it came nearer and nearer, till it would rush -shrieking past his hut, making it creak and shiver, and once more there -would be a momentary lull. - -And so Joe waited and listened through the wild solemn night, and longed -as he had rarely done for the light of the morning to appear. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - -Tempted. - - Where the watching, waiting angels - Lead them from the shadow dim, - To the brightness of His presence - Who has called them unto Him,-- - Little hearts for ever stainless, - Little hands as pure as they, - Little feet by angels guided, - Never a forbidden way. - - -Towards the close of February Nelly caught a very severe cold, which -kept her indoors for several days. One night her cough had been so bad -that she had scarcely slept at all, and when she got up in the morning, -with flushed cheeks and hollow eyes, unrested and unrefreshed, granny -insisted that she was not fit to go out, and that she must stay indoors -and keep herself warm. - -Benny was very sorry to lose her earnings, for, alas! it had been a hard -struggle for the children to find the necessary coppers day by day to -purchase food and pay for their lodgings; and had it not been for Joe -Wrag's kindness, they would often have fared much worse. Nelly knew this -very well, and hence it was a great trial to her to stay indoors doing -nothing, while her Benny was out fighting the world alone. - -"How will yer manage, Benny?" she said, with an anxious look in her -eyes, the first morning that he went out alone. - -"Oh, never fear, Nell, I'll 'cumulate the coppers somehow," was the -response. - -"What's 'cumulate, Benny?" for it was the first time he had ventured to -use that word in her hearing. - -"Well, I might a-knowed," he said, putting on a knowing look, "that you -would not hundercumstand sich words, 'cause as how you don't seem to -care for larnin' like me." - -"Well, you 'ave not told me now, Benny." - -"Oh, it means as how I'm bound to get the coppers somehow." - -"How _somehow_, Benny? You'll only get 'em the right way, will yer, now?" - -"Never fear, Nell; I's not goin' to steal 'em." - -"But if you dunna get enough, Benny?" - -"Oh, I'll go hungry for a day or two; 't won't be fust time I's done it." - -"Poor Benny!" and she placed her wasted hand on his shoulder. "But I -'ope it will be true, what Joe told me t'other night." - -"What did he tell yer?" - -"Well, he said the good Lord was sure to provide; that is, you know, -Benny, He willna let us starve." - -"I dunno much about _Him_, Nell." - -"Oh, but Joe 'as told me lots an' lots about Him; an' He never says what -He doesna mean; an' if He says He'll provide, He will, Benny." - -"Anyhow, I shall be glad to see it," was Benny's observation, as he -walked away, leaving Nelly standing at the door. - -He found the days very long without a sight of his sister's face from -morn till eve. But he bore up bravely, and hurried home as early as -he possibly could when the day's toil was over. Nobody knew how much -"little Nell" was to him: she had been the only comfort of his cheerless -life, and when the world seemed more rough and unfriendly than usual, it -was Nelly who stood by his side like a ministering angel, encouraging -him still to persevere. - -The sight of her sweet patient face in the evening was like a -benediction to him, and after the frugal meal they would sit on the -floor with their arms around each other before granny's fire. And Benny -would tell his sister all the experiences of the day; making light, -however, of the difficulties and disappointments, and magnifying every -little pleasure that had fallen to his lot. - -It was wonderful how thoughtful he was of his sister, and how he -anticipated her every want. He would not give her a moment's pain on any -consideration if he could possibly help it. Yet Nelly always knew when -he was in trouble, though he said nothing about it; for experience had -made her quick to detect his every mood. - -One afternoon, as Benny was passing along a narrow and not very -frequented street, he paused before a small hosier's shop. A great many -things had been hung outside the door to catch the eye of the passer-by. -But one article especially attracted his attention, and that was a -woollen "cross-over." - -"Golly!" he said to himself, "if Nelly only had that, she'd be better in -no time." - -Nelly had been much better that morning, and but for the keen east wind -that had been blowing for several days, she would have again ventured -into the streets. And as Benny looked again and again at the cross-over, -he thought how nice she would look with it crossed over her chest, and -how nice and snug and warm it would make her feel. No cold, he was sure, -could come through a thing like that; and it was the cold, granny said, -that made her cough so much. - -But he knew he could not purchase it, so with a sigh he turned away. Yet -in less than half an hour he was standing before the shop again. - -"They would never miss it," he muttered to himself, "an' Nelly needs it -so much." - -Then a voice within him whispered, "Don't steal, Benny," and again he -walked away. But the tempter followed and gave him no rest. - -"I could cut the string as easy as that," he said to himself, snapping -his fingers. "And it ain't for myself that I wants it, and I dunna think -it can be so very wrong to take it for little Nell, when she's so ill." - -While he was musing thus, he was startled by a voice near him, - -"Hullo, Ben, are 'e goin' to a funeral, yer look so glum?" - -Looking up a narrow entry, he saw a lad that went by the name of -"Perks," engaged in trying on a pair of shoes, that were evidently new, -though they had been well plastered with mud. - -Perks was not so big as Benny, though he was two or three years older. -He was a strange-looking lad. A great shock of fiery red hair made hat -or cap totally unnecessary. His face was plain, looked at under any -circumstances, but a look of low cunning made it at times appear almost -repulsive. - -Perks was no friend of Benny's, who rarely took the trouble to reply -when addressed by him. Benny knew that he was not honest. He never sold -matches, and rarely carried parcels, and yet he had generally plenty -of coppers at his disposal, and wore better clothes than any of the -street lads. But to-day Benny was in a different humour to what he was -generally. He had permitted an evil spirit to take possession of him, -and so was not so particular about his company. - -So he walked up the entry close to where Perks sat, and pointing to the -shoes, said in a whisper, - -"Where'd yer get them?" - -"Walked 'em," was the response. - -"That is, stole 'em, ain't it?" - -"Gem'men of our per-fession don't say stole, it ain't perlite," said -Perks, trying to look important. - -"It means that, though," said Benny. - -"Well, I admit I took 'em without leave, as I takes most things; it's -most conwenient." - -"How did yer manage?" said Benny. - -"So yer wants to take up the per-fession, does yer?" And there was a -cunning leer in his eye as he spoke. - -"No, I don't," said Benny, colouring up. - -"What yer ax me for 'ow I did it, then?" - -"For fun." - -"No doubt. But, I'll tell yer, nothin' is easier. Folks hang things -outside on purpose to be stole. I took up the per-fession 'cause I -couldn't 'elp it. Shop-keepers put things right under my nose, an' made -me take 'em against my will at fust. Now I's no feelin' 'bout it at all." - -"'T ain't right, though, nohow," said Benny. - -Perks was about to sneer at this remark, but thought better of it, and -answered, after a pause, - -"Well, if it ain't, I's not to blame. Folks just put things in my way; -an' a chap's not to blame for eatin' butter when it's put in his mouth." - -To this Benny ventured no remark. And Perks having fastened on the shoes -to his satisfaction, said, "Come with me a minute," and together they -walked off into a more crowded thoroughfare. - -Poor Benny! in such a state of mind as he was, he could not have fallen -into worse hands. He was fast getting into the toils of the tempter; and -who should deliver him? - -For awhile Benny and Perks walked on in silence, when suddenly Perks -clutched his arm and whispered in his ear, - -"Look alive, an' I'll show yer a bit of nice play." - -"What yer mean?" said Benny. - -"Yer see that man afore us, with a bit o' his hankecher peepin' out o' -his pocket?" - -"Ay." - -"Well, there's another chap walking alongside o' him, an' comin' down -the street is three or four more; don't 'e see as how they'll all meet -by that lamp-post? Well, ther'll be a bit o' crush, an' I'll just pop -in atween 'em at the same time onexpected, an' for a moment we'll be -sixes an' sevens, an' then the thing is done." - -And off Perks darted like the wind. Benny did not wait to see how he -succeeded in his undertaking. The poisonous seed had taken root in the -soil that had been prepared for its reception, and Benny hurried away -to the hosier's shop, alas! already a thief in heart, if not in action, -for he had made up his mind to take the cross-over if anything like a -favourable opportunity presented itself. - -"I's not to blame for takin' things," he said, using Perks's words, "if -people puts 'em right in one's way." - -It was getting dusk, and in this narrow street it was darker than in the -street he had just left. - -Yes, there was the cross-over. And, after looking at all the windows -in the neighbourhood, to see that no one was watching him, he glided -stealthily up to the door. The shopkeeper was busy inside. "So much the -better," he thought. "Now's the time," and he stretched out his hand to -grasp the coveted article, when a hand was laid upon his arm with a firm -grip, and, turning, he saw a face that made the perspiration ooze from -him at every pore. - -Leaving Benny for a moment to recover his fright, we will go back to -Tempest Court, and have a look at Nelly. She had been restless and ill -at ease all the day--a sign, granny said, that she was getting better; -and, indeed, she felt much better in body, though she was uneasy in -mind, and, as the day kept fine and got much warmer as the hours wore -on, she determined she would go out and see how Benny was getting on, -for she had a vague presentiment that all was not right. - -On reaching the landing-stage she looked anxiously around, but Benny -was nowhere visible. This did not trouble her much, but after loitering -around for a good part of an hour, and he did not come, she began to -feel alarmed; still she waited around, till, unable longer to bear the -burden of suspense, she started off to search for him. Up one street -and down another she went, looking here and there and everywhere, but -without avail. - -Just before four o'clock she made her way to the old trysting-place by -St. George's Church, in the hope that Benny might do the same; but, -alas! she was doomed to disappointment, for he did not come; and when -she saw the daylight begin to fade, she got frightened, feeling sure -that some evil had befallen "her Benny." - -Evil, alas! had befallen him, though not of the nature that she had -feared. - -At length she saw some one turn up a narrow street that looked like -Benny. She could not be certain, but she would follow and see; so with -beating heart she hurried up the street. - -Yes, it was Benny; she was near enough to recognize him now. But when -she saw--as she did at a glance--what he was about to do, her heart -stood still for a moment; the next moment she hurried forward with the -fleetness of the wind, and laid her hand upon his arm, unable to speak a -word. - -For two or three seconds the children looked at each other in silence, -then Nelly took her brother by the hand and led him away. She uttered no -word of reproach, she only said, "My poor Benny!" and her great round -eyes filled with tears, which rolled silently down her wasted cheeks. - -"It was for you, Nelly. I thought 't would warm yer. I wouldna 'ave done -it for myself." - -And again came the words, in a choking voice, "My poor Benny!" - -"I didna think it wur so very wicked, seein' as you is so ill, Nelly. Is -you very mad at me, Nell?" - -"I's not mad, Benny, but I's sorry--oh, so sorry! I did not think----" - -But here she broke off abruptly: she would utter no word of reproach, -for she knew it was all out of love for her. - -That evening she could eat no supper. Benny knew the reason and did not -press her, but her silent grief nearly broke his heart. He would rather -suffer anything himself than see his sister suffer. And yet now he had -given her keener pain than words could tell. - -In the middle of the night he awoke and found her sobbing by his side as -though her little heart would break, and he knew that he was the cause -of her grief. - -"Don't take on so, Nell," he said, in a voice that had the sound of -tears in it. And he drew her tear-stained face towards him and kissed -her affectionately. - -But she only sobbed the more. - -"Do forgive me, Nell," he said. "I's very sorry." - -"I 'as nothin' to forgive you for, Benny; you's always been good to me. -Ax the dear Lord to forgive yer." - -"I knows nowt about Him, Nell." - -"But He knows about you, Benny--Joe says so; and He sees everything we -does. Ax Him." - -"Could He hear if I wur to ax Him?" - -"Yes, Joe says as He hears everything." - -"Then I'll try Him," said Benny, and, sitting up in bed, he commenced,-- - -"If you plaise, Mr. God, I's very sorry I tried to stole; but if you'll -be a trump an' not split on a poor little chap, I'll be mighty 'bliged -to yer. An' I promise 'e I won't do nowt o' the sort agin'." - -"There, will that do, Nell?" - -"Say Amen." - -"Amen," said Benny, and he lay down to listen for the answer. - -But after waiting a long time and no voice broke the stillness of the -night, and Nelly having fallen asleep, our hero concluded that _she_ had -received the answer, as she seemed so much comforted; so he thought that -he might go to sleep also, which he accordingly did, and did not awake -till late in the morning, when he saw his sister bending over him with a -calm face, from which all trace of pain had fled, and a beautiful light -shining in her eyes. - -This satisfied him that his prayer had been answered, and once more his -heart was at peace. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - -In the Woods. - - I roam the woods that crown - The upland, where the mingled splendours glow, - Where the gay company of trees look down - On the green fields below. - - Let in through all the trees - Come the strange rays; the forest depths are bright, - Their sunny-coloured foliage in the breeze - Twinkles like beams of light. - --Bryant. - - -Perks was very much annoyed that Benny had not stayed to see him perform -the feat of picking a gentleman's pocket, nevertheless, he was very -anxious to cultivate our hero's acquaintance, especially as Benny had -generally treated him with unmistakable contempt; so on the following -morning he sought out Benny, and tried his very best to make himself -agreeable. But Benny was in a decidedly unfriendly mood, and threw cold -water on all Perks' advances. But, nothing daunted, Perks kept near him -most of the day, and even offered to treat him to what he called "a -feed." But it was of no use. Benny had learned a lesson he would not -easily forget, and he knew that his safety lay in having as little to do -with Perks and his class as possible. So as evening came on and Perks -still hung around him, he lost all patience, and, doubling his fist in -an unmistakable manner, he said, with a gymnastic flourish, - -"Look 'ere, Perks, if yer don't walk yer pegs in double-quick time, -you'll wish yer had, that's all." - -"Oh, that's yer game, is it?" said Perks, in a defiant tone, and -squaring up in front of Benny. - -"It are," was the reply; "an' if yer don't want to see fire, you'd -better be off like greased lightnin'." - -"I shall go when I likes, and not afore," said Perks; "an' if yer thinks -yer's goin' to bully this little chap, you's got the wrong pig by the -ear." - -"I wants to bully nobody," said Benny, in a milder tone; "but I won't -have yer a hangin' about me all day." - -"I 'spose yer wants to crib somethin' without my knowin' it," said -Perks, with a sneer. - -"It's a lie," said Benny, colouring painfully, as the event of the -previous day crossed his mind. - -"'T ain't a lie, neither," was the response, "or you'd not get so red -over it." - -"D' yer think I's a thief, then?" said Benny. - -"No," said Perks scornfully, "but I knows it." - -"An' yer shall know some'at else afore yer a minit older," said Benny, -springing upon him, and dealing him a blow between the eyes that made -him stagger; and, before he could recover himself, a second blow sent -him reeling against a wall. - -For a moment Perks glared at his antagonist with flaming eyes, but he -saw that he was no match for Benny, so he turned on his heel and walked -away. He had not gone many steps, however, before he came back again. - -"Look 'ere, Ben Bates," he said, "you's licked me now, but I'll get my -revenge, an' I'll a'most plague the life out o' yer," and once more he -walked away. - -Perks kept his word; from that day he became the greatest plague of -Benny's life. He stole his matches, picked his pocket, tripped him up in -the street, and annoyed him in every possible way that he could imagine, -always mindful, however, to keep out of the reach of Benny's arm; and, -being fleet-footed, that was not difficult. - -Benny, however, said that he could "'ford to bide his time," so he -quietly went on his way, feeling that nothing could trouble him very -much now that "little Nell" was getting better again. - -And as the summer advanced she did seem to get very much better. The -cough became less troublesome, her appetite improved, her cheerfulness -came back, and altogether she seemed to be taking, as Joe Wrag put it, -"a new lease of her life." - -And yet a close observer would have noticed that the improvement was -more in appearance than in reality. The pink spot still burned on either -cheek, and her great round eyes shone with an unnatural lustre, and her -strength, which had been failing for months, did not seem to come back; -and though she went out with Benny in the morning and came back with him -in the evening, yet each evening she seemed more tired and worn than on -the previous one. She made no complaint, however; but, on the contrary, -always declared that she was getting ever so much better. - -For several weeks Joe Wrag had been planning to give the children a -treat; and one fine morning in June he put in an appearance at Tempest -Court before they had left, much to their surprise and delight. - -Nelly was the first to see him coming up the court, and ran to meet -him, her eyes beaming with pleasure. "Oh, Joe," she exclaimed, "I's so -pleased to see you!" - -"Is you, my purty?" said Joe fondly; and, stooping down, he took her up -in his arms, and carried her into the house. - -Granny looked up in surprise, and Benny stared in bewilderment, fearing -there was mischief in the wind. - -"Yer don't get much heavier," said Joe, sitting down with Nelly on his -knee. "We'll have to feed yer up a bit somehow." - -"Oh, I's very well, Joe," said Nelly, nestling closer to her old friend. - -"Dunno 'bout that," said Joe reflectively; "but what d' yer say 'bout -havin' holiday to-day?" - -"Oh, Methusaler!" said Benny, brightening up in a moment, "that's the -game, are it?" and he went out in the doorway and stood on his head--a -sure sign that he was more than usually delighted. - -Nelly looked up in Joe's face with a beautiful light in her eyes. "D' -yer mean it, Joe?" she said, simply. - -"Ay, my bonny, that I do," responded Joe. - -"Oh, then, won't it be jist--jist--" - -"Profusely," said Benny, coming to her rescue with one of his grand -words, of which he had been laying in a stock of late. - -"Now, then," said Joe, "get on yer best togs, and let's be off." - -Poor children! they had not much of best or worst in the way of attire, -but, such as it was, it was clean and neatly mended. Granny did her -very best to turn them out respectable, and certainly they did her no -discredit. - -"Where is we going?" said Nelly, as she stepped along by Joe's side, her -eyes sparkling with delight. - -"Into the woods somewhere on t' other side o' the water," said Joe, -looking fondly down into the child's beaming eyes. - -Benny had nearly stood on his head again when he heard that; but thought -better of it, and contented himself with a shrill whistle expressive of -delight. - -"Better an' better," he thought, flinging his cap into the air and -catching it on his toe; "won't I enjoy myself, just, that's all?" - -By ten o'clock they were on the landing-stage, and soon after they were -gliding up the river towards Eastham. Oh, how the wavelets sparkled in -the summer's sunshine, and how the paddle-wheels tossed the water into -foam! How happy everything seemed to-day! The ferries were crowded with -passengers, all of whom seemed in the best of spirits; and the rush of -water and the beat of the engine seemed to Nelly the happiest sounds she -had ever heard. - -Benny was rushing here and there and everywhere, and asking Joe -questions about everything. But Nelly sat still. Her thoughts were too -big for utterance, and her little heart was full to overflowing. - -At length they reach New Ferry, where several passengers get off and -several others get on; then on they glide again. The river here seems -like a sheet of glass, so broad and smooth. Now they are nearing the -river's bank, and Nelly is delighted to watch the trees gliding past. -How wonderful everything seems! Surely her dreams are becoming a reality -at last. - -For awhile after they land they sit on the river's bank in the shade of -the trees, and Nelly rubs her eyes and pinches herself, to be certain -that she is not asleep. How grandly the mile-wide river at their feet -flows downward to the sea! And what a beautiful background to the -picture the wooded landscape makes that stretches away beyond Garston -and Aigburth! And Nelly wonders to herself if it is possible that heaven -can be more beautiful than this. - -But Benny soon gets impatient to be off into the wood, and, humouring -his wish, they set off up the narrow path, between banks of ferns and -primroses and wild flowers of almost every hue. The tall trees wave -their branches above them, and the birds whistle out their happy hearts. -Here and there the grasshoppers chirp among the undergrowth, and myriads -of insects make the air vocal with their ceaseless hum. - -They had scarcely got into the heart of the wood ere they found that -Benny was missing; but they were neither surprised nor alarmed at this, -for the lad was fairly brimming over with delight, and could not stay -for five minutes in the same place if he were to be crowned. - -Nelly was as much delighted as her brother; perhaps more so, but she -had a different way of expressing it. She felt as she sat on a mossy -bank, holding Joe's rough and horny hand within both her own, and looked -away up the long avenues between the trees, and watched the dancing -sunlight that was sifted down in golden patches, and listened to the -dreamy murmur of the summer's wind through the leafy trees, mingling -with the song of birds and the lowing of the cattle in the distant -fields, as if she could have cried for very joy. It was all so solemn, -and yet so delightful, so awe-inspiring and yet so gladsome, that -she hardly knew whether to laugh outright, or hide her face on Joe's -shoulder and have a good cry. - -Benny, however, decided the matter for her. He had been wandering no one -knew whither, and Joe was beginning to think that it was time to go off -in search of him, when they heard him shouting at the top of his voice,-- - -"Joe, Joe! Golly! Make haste--quick, d' ye hear? Thunder!" - -Judging by the tone of his voice, as well as by his words, that he was -in a difficulty of some kind, Joe and Nelly started off in the direction -from whence the sound came. They had not gone far, however, before they -espied our hero, and at sight of him Joe stood stock-still and held -his sides. For there was Benny suspended by his nether garment to the -branch of a tree, and striking out with his hands and feet like a huge -octopus in a frantic and vain endeavour to recover a horizontal position. - -He had gone out on this branch, which was not more than six feet from -the ground, for some unknown purpose, and, missing his hold, he slipped, -and would have fallen to the ground but for the friendly stump that held -him suspended in mid-air. - -"Joe! Oh, do come! Murder and turf! D' ye hear? What's yer larfin at? -Are 'e moon-struck? Oh--h--!" he shrieked out at the top of his voice, -still going through most unheard-of gymnastic exercises, and vainly -trying to raise his head to the level of his heels. - -To make the matter worse, a young gentleman passing at the time inquired -of Benny, with a very grave face, "Whether his was a new method of -learning to swim on dry land? If so, he thought he had got the action -nearly perfect, the only thing required was to keep his head just a -trifle higher." - -By this time, however, Joe had come to his relief, and easily lifted him -down without further mishap. - -The young gentleman tried to poke some more fun at Benny, but he would -not reply, and soon after set off with Joe and Nelly to get some dinner. -After dinner they took a ramble across the fields, in the direction -of Raby Mere. Benny's adventure had rather sobered him, so he did not -object to assist his sister in gathering wild flowers, while Joe -artistically arranged them into what seemed to the children to be a -magnificent bouquet. - -Fleet-footed indeed were the hours of that long summer's afternoon. -Benny wished a thousand times that the day could last for ever; and -Nelly, though she was getting tired, watched with a look of pain in her -eyes the sun getting farther and farther down in the western sky. - -As they were returning across the fields Benny was strongly tempted to -leap a ditch that he had noticed at the beginning of their ramble--so -strongly tempted indeed that he could not resist it. So off he set at -a swinging trot as soon as they got into the field. Joe guessed what -he was after, and called him back; but it was of no use, he either did -not hear or would not heed, for he went faster and faster as he neared -the ditch. Joe saw him fling up his hands, take a flying leap, and then -disappear. After waiting a few moments, and he did not appear on the -opposite bank, Joe and Nelly hurried after him. On reaching the ditch -they found that he was stuck fast in the mud about two feet from the -opposite side, and the more he tried to get out the deeper he sank. - -"Oh, quick, Joe!" he shouted, "or I'll be out o' sight in another minit." - -"Sarve you right!" said Joe, laughing; "you had no business to get in -there." - -"I can't stay to argify," retorted Benny; "don't yer see there's scarce -anything of me left?" - -"Ay, I see plain enough," said Joe, going to the other side, and pulling -him out, though not without an effort. "I wonder what mischief you'll be -into next?" - -"Dunno," said Benny, regarding his legs with a look of dismay. Then, -after a long pause, "I say, Joe, how's I to get this mud off?" - -"Scrape off what yer can," said Joe, "and let the rest dry, and it'll -rub off as clean as a new pin." - -Benny was rather ashamed of his appearance, however, when he got into -the wood again, and found himself in the midst of two or three hundred -Sunday-school children and their teachers, all nicely dressed, who had -come out for a picnic. But when he saw them each with a small bun loaf -and a cup of milk, he could not help drawing near, notwithstanding the -rather disgraceful state of his legs. Nelly was also anxious to have a -nearer view of all those happy-looking children. - -Fortunately for Benny, the superintendent of the school was the -gentleman that had invited him into the chapel months before. Benny felt -sure he knew them again, but whether he did or not he invited all three -to sit down with the rest, and gave them each a bun and a cup of milk. - -Joe was as delighted as the children with the kindness shown, and was -soon quite at his ease. - -After lunch the children ran races for prizes, and Benny was invited to -compete with the rest. This suited him exactly, and very soon after, -with about a dozen others, he was bounding up a broad avenue between the -trees, in a well-matched and most exciting race. - -For the first half of the distance Benny dropped into the rear, then he -began gradually to gain upon the others. Now was his time, so putting on -a spurt, for which he had saved his breath, he went bounding ahead of -all the others, and amid loud hurrahs came first into the goal. - -Benny never felt so proud in his life before as when that first prize--a -brand new sixpence--was put into his hand. His success, however, -disqualified him from competing again, so he had to content himself with -watching the others run. - -But the most delightful circumstance of all to Nelly was when all the -children stood up in a large circle, and sang in their pure young voices -the following hymn:-- - - "Land ahead! Its fruits are waving - O'er the fields of fadeless green; - And the living waters laving - Shores where heavenly forms are seen. - - "There let go the anchor. Riding - On this calm and silvery bay, - Seaward fast the tide is gliding, - Shores in sunlight stretch away. - - "Now we're safe from all temptation, - All the storms of life are past; - Praise the Rock of our salvation, - We are safely home at last." - -Nelly never forgot that little hymn to her dying day; and when that -evening they glided down the placid river towards home, she repeated to -herself over and over again-- - - "Seaward fast the tide is gliding, - Shores in sunlight stretch away." - -And when in her little corner she lay down to sleep, it was only to -dream of the sunlit shores on the banks of the far Jordan river. - -Heaven seemed nearer and dearer to her ever after that day, and she -sometimes almost longed for the sunny slopes of that far-off country -where there should be no more weariness nor pain. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - -Benny prays. - - Prayer is the burden of a sigh, - The falling of a tear, - The upward glancing of the eye - When none but God is near. - - Prayer is the simplest form of speech - That infant lips can try; - Prayer the sublimest strains that reach - The Majesty on high. - --Montgomery. - - -The long summer days passed all too quickly, and autumn came again. -The days began to shorten, and the evenings to be cold. Nelly felt the -change in an unmistakable manner, for her cough returned worse than -ever, and her appetite and strength began to fail rapidly. But the -hopeful little child battled bravely with her growing weakness, and -each morning went forth to earn her daily bread. - -One afternoon in October Benny was down on the pier, when he saw Perks -coming towards him, and not wishing to have anything to say to him, he -was about to turn away, when Perks called out, - -"Does yer want to hear a bit o' news?" - -"No!" said Benny. - -"Yer wants to 'ear what I knows, I'm sartin." - -"Well! what is it?" said Benny, carelessly. - -"Your Nelly's killed!" - -"It's a lie!" said Benny, paling to the lips. - -"'Taint a lie, neither; she's been run over with a 'bus, an' 'ad her yed -cut off." - -"You lying thief!" said Benny. "If yer not out o' my sight in a minit -I'll pound yer to a jelly." - -And Benny made a rush towards him. But Perks was not to be caught, and -was soon out of sight. - -Benny did not believe a word Perks had said; and yet, somehow, his words -troubled him, and very long seemed the time till four o'clock, when he -would meet her in the shadow of St. George's Church. - -If Perks' only object was to plague and annoy Benny, he could not have -been more successful, for try as he would, he could not get Perks' -words out of his head. Punctually at four o'clock he was standing -by the church, but Nelly was not there, and a dull pain crept into -his heart, such as he had never felt before. Five minutes pass--ten -minutes--fifteen minutes pass, and still Nelly had not come, and Benny -began to fear that something had really happened to her. - -Just then he saw Bill Tucker--a boy of his acquaintance--coming towards -him. - -"Have yer seen Nelly, Bill?" he shouted, when the lad got within hearing -distance. - -"Ay; ain't yer heerd?" - -"Heerd what?" said Benny, growing paler than ever. - -"Why, she's got hurt," said the other. - -"Are 'e sure, now?" said Benny, great tears starting in his eyes. - -"Ay, quite sure. I seed the perlice myself takin' her to the 'firmary." - -"Oh, no! 't aint true, are it, Bill? Say yer a-foolin' me," said Benny, -trembling from head to foot. - -"I wish it weren't true," said, the lad, "but I seed 'em pick her up -mysel', an' I's 'feared she's dead; she looked like it." - -"Did a 'bus run over her?" - -"No. A big dog runned agin her, an' she fell with her yed on a sharp -stone." - -"Yer quite sure, Bill?" - -"Ay, quite," said the lad; "but go to the 'firmary an' see for yoursel'." - -"Which way?" said Benny. - -"Haaf-way up Brownlow Hill, an' roun' to the left; a mighty big 'ouse." - -And off Benny started, like the wind. By dint of many inquiries he found -himself in the right street, but looking in vain for the Infirmary. - -Just then a policeman came up. - -"Could yer tell me where the 'firmary are, please?" said Benny, doffing -his cap. - -"Why, there, right afore your eyes." - -"What, that?" said Benny, pointing to the huge building. - -"Ay, to be sure," said the policeman. - -"Oh, lor'!" was the reply, "I thought that wur the 'ouse the Queen lived -in." - -The policeman was about to laugh, but noticing Benny's troubled face, he -said, - -"Do you want to get in?" - -"Ay," said Benny, "that I do." - -"Then go up this street. There's the lodge door on your left; you can't -miss it." - -"Thanks, sir," and off Benny started. In response to his timid knock the -door was opened by a kind-looking man. - -"This are the 'firmary, ain't it?" said Benny. - -"Yes, my little man," was the answer. "What do you want?" - -"I wants to know if Nelly are in 'ere?" - -"I don't know. Who is she?" - -"My sister," said Benny, the tears starting in his eyes. - -"When was she brought here?" - -"To-day. Bill Tucker said as 'ow she was hurt in the street an' brought -here." - -"Yes, a little girl was brought in two or three hours ago." - -"Wur she very white, an' had long hair?" - -"Yes, my little man." - -"Oh, that wur Nelly. Let me see her, please." - -"You cannot to-day, it's against rules; you can see her to-morrow -morning, after ten o'clock." - -"Oh, do let me jist peep at her." - -"I cannot, my little fellow; and besides, it would do her no good." - -"But it ud do me good," said Benny, gulping down a great lump in his -throat. "She is all I has in the world." - -"I'm very sorry, my boy, but you can't see her to-night." - -"Not for jist a minit?" - -"No, not to-night." - -"She ain't dead, then?" - -"No, but she is unconscious." - -"Will she get better?" - -"I hope so. Now run away and come again to-morrow, and rest satisfied -that your little sister will be well taken care of." - -"Oh, please," said Benny, making a last appeal, the great tears running -down his cheeks the while. - -"I cannot let you see her, however willing I might be," said the man. -"Now run away, there's a good lad." - -"Oh, dear," groaned Benny, as he stepped out into the darkening street. -"What shall I do? what shall I do?" - -He had tasted no food since noon, but he never thought of hunger. He had -been on the tramp all the day, but he felt no weariness. There was one -great pain in his heart, and that banished every other feeling. Nelly -was in that great house suffering, perhaps dying; and he could not speak -to her--not even look at her. What right had these people to keep his -Nelly from him? Was not she his own little Nell, all that he had in the -wide, wide world? How dared they, then, to turn him away? - -Hour after hour he wandered up and down in front of the huge building, -watching the twinkling lights in its many windows. How could he go away -while Nelly was suffering there? Could he sleep in his snug corner while -his own little Nell was suffering amongst strangers? It could not be. - -So when the great town grew silent around him, he sat down on a doorstep -nearly opposite the entrance, and waited for the morning. - -The night was chilly, but he felt not the cold; his heart felt as if it -would burn through his body. How long the night seemed, and he almost -wondered if morning would ever come. - -Suddenly a thought struck him. Had he not better pray? He remembered -how Nelly prayed every night ere she lay down to sleep, and once he had -prayed and felt all the better for it. He would pray again. - -So he got up and knelt on the cold flags, and looking up into the silent -heavens, where the pale stars kept watch over the sleeping earth, -he said, "Oh, Mr. God, I's in great trouble, for Nelly's got hurt, -and they's took her into the 'firmary, an' won't let me see her till -to-morrer, but You knows all about it, I specks, for Joe says as how You -knows everything. But I dunna want her to die, for Joe says You takes -people who dies that is good to a mighty nice place; nicer'n Eastham by -a long chalk, an' how You has lots an' lots o' childer; an' if that be -the case, I's sure You needn't take little Nell; for oh, Sir, she's all -I's got in the world. Please let her stay an' get better. Oh, do now! -for I'll break my heart if she dies. An' 'member, I's only a little -chap, an' I's no one but Nelly; an' 'tis so lonesome out here, an' she -in there. Please make her better. If I was in Your place, an' You was a -little chap like me, I'd let Your Nelly stay. I would for sure. An' oh, -if You'll let my Nelly stay an' get better, I'll be awful good. Amen." - -Benny waited for a few moments longer in silence, then got up and crept -to the doorstep, and in five minutes after he was fast asleep. - -He was aroused in the morning about nine o'clock by the door being -opened suddenly, against which he was leaning, and he fell into the -passage. He got up as quickly as possible, but not in time to escape a -fierce kick dealt him by a hard-featured woman. - -Poor child! it was a painful awaking for him. But he was thankful it was -broad day. He was cold, and almost faint for want of food, yet he was -not conscious of hunger. - -When at length he was admitted into the Infirmary he walked as one in a -dream. At any other time he would have noticed the long corridors and -broad flights of stairs. But he saw nothing of this to-day. He kept his -eyes fixed on the nurse who walked before him, and who was leading him -to his little Nell. - -He was told that he must be very quiet, and on no account excite her, or -it might prove fatal to her, as she was in a very critical state. She -had recovered consciousness on the previous night, but she was so weak, -and her nervous system had received such a shock, that she could not -bear any excitement. - -Benny only partly understood what it all meant, but he had determined -that he would be very quiet, and make no more noise than he could -possibly help. So he followed the pleasant-faced nurse as silently as -possible into the Children's Ward. He noticed the two long rows of beds -between which they were passing, but he had no eyes for the occupants. - -At length the nurse stopped by the side of a little cot, and with a -sudden bound he stood by her side. He could hardly repress a cry that -rose to his lips, and a great lump rose in his throat that almost choked -him; but with a tremendous effort he gulped it down, and brushed away -the tears that almost blinded him. - -There in the cot was his little Nell, pale as the pillow on which she -lay, yet with a look of deep content upon her face, and just the shadow -of a smile lingering round the corners of her mouth. - -Benny was about to throw his arms around her, but the nurse held up her -finger. Nelly's eyes were closed, so that she did not know of their -presence, and Benny was made to understand that he must wait until she -should open her eyes of her own accord. - -So he stood as motionless as the little figure on the bed, gazing with -hungry eyes at his little sister, who was silently slipping away from -his grasp. He had not to wait long. Slowly the great round eyes opened, -the vanishing smile came back and brightened all her face, the lips -parted sufficiently for her to whisper "My Benny." And with a low cry -Benny bent down his head, and the little wasted arms were twined about -his neck, and then the round eyes closed again, and the nurse saw two -tears steal out underneath the long lashes, and roll silently down her -cheek. - -For a few moments they remained thus in silence, then Benny, unable -longer to restrain his feelings, sobbed out-- - -"Oh, Nelly! I can't bear it; my heart's breaking." - -"Don't give way so," she said softly. "It's so comfortable here, an' the -good Lord'll take care o' you, Benny." - -"But you will soon be better, Nelly, won't you?" - -"Yes, Benny, I'll soon be better, but not as you mean it. I's going to -Jesus, and shall never have no more cough, nor feel no more pain." - -"Oh, no! you's going to get better. I axed the Lord last night to make -you better an' let you stay." - -"No, Benny, I shan't stay long. I's known it for months, an' I's willin' -to go, 'cause I know as how the Lord will take care of you." - -"But I canna let you go," said Benny, sobbing louder than ever. - -Then the nurse came forward, and laid her hand upon his shoulder. "You -must not excite your sister," she said kindly, "for that is not the way -to make her better." - -"Oh, but she's all I has," he sobbed. - -"Yes, poor boy, I know," she replied. "But if your sister leaves you -she'll be better off, and will not have to tramp the streets in the cold -and wet; so you must think that what is your loss will be her gain." - -Nelly raised her eyes to the nurse with a grateful look for talking to -Benny in that way. And before he left he had grown calm, and seemingly -resigned. It was a painful parting; but Nelly did her best to cheer him -up, reminding him that in two days he would be able to come and see her -again. - -Granny was in great trouble at the absence of the children, and it was -no small relief to her when, about noon, Benny put in an appearance -at Tempest Court. One look at his face, however, was sufficient to -convince her that something had happened, and when Benny told her what -had befallen his little Nell, the old woman sat down and cried; for she -knew very well that never more would the little face brighten the dingy -court. And granny had got to love the sweet, patient little child as her -own; and though for months she had been convinced that the little flower -was marked to fall, yet it had come in a way she had not expected, and, -like Benny, she felt it very hard to give her up. - -After dinner Benny went out again to face the world. It was with a very -sad heart that he did it; for he felt that from henceforth he would have -to fight the battle of life alone. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - -Fading Away. - - The morning flowers displayed their sweets, - And gay their silken leaves unfold, - As careless of the noontide heats, - As fearless of the evening cold. - - Nipt by the winds unkindly blast, - Parched by the sun's directer ray, - The momentary glories waste, - The short-lived beauties die away. - --S. Wesley. - - -Joe Wrag heard the news in silence. Benny, who had gone to him to tell -him what had happened to Nell, was not half pleased that he said nothing -in reply. But Joe was too troubled to talk. Like granny, he had known -for months what was coming, but it had come suddenly, and in a way that -he had not expected, and the old man, as he afterwards expressed it, was -"struck all of a heap." - -Benny waited for some time, but finding Joe was not inclined to talk, -he made his way home, leaving the old man gazing into the fire, with a -vacant look in his eyes and a look of pain upon his face. - -No one ever knew what the old man suffered that night. It was like -tearing open the wound that had been made twenty years before, when his -only son, as the crowning act of his unkindness, ran away from home, and -had never since been heard of. - -"If I could only believe that there was the smallest hope o' my ever -getting to heaven," he muttered, "it 'ud be easier to bear." - -And he hid his face in his hands, while great tears dropped between his -fingers to the floor. - -"Bless her little heart!" he murmured; "she did not believe as how any -wur excluded; she allers stuck to that word 'whosoever,' an' sometimes I -wur inclined to think as how she wur right. I wonder, now, if she wur? -for sartinly it looks the reasonabler. - -"Bless me!" he said after a long pause, "I'm getting mortal shaky in my -faith; I used to be firm as a rock. I wonder if it are my heart getting -righter, or my head getting wrong. But I mun have a few more talks wi' -the little hangel afore she goes." - -As soon as Joe was liberated from his watch, he made his way direct to -the Infirmary, and bitterly was he disappointed when told that he could -not be admitted, and that if he wanted to see the child he must come -again on the following day. - -His heart was yearning for a sight of her face, and another day and -night seemed such a long time to wait; but he turned away without a -word, and went slowly home. - -Evening found him again at his post of duty, and the next morning found -him anxious and sad. The night had seemed so very long, and he was -burning with impatience to get away. - -The men came to work at length, and off he started with all possible -speed. The porter at the door knew him again, and he was admitted -without a word. - -Nelly was expecting him; she knew it was visitors' day, and she was -certain he would come, so she waited with closed eyes, listening for the -footfall of her old friend. - -She knew without looking up when he stooped beside her, and reached out -her wasted hand, and drew down his weather-beaten wrinkled face and -kissed him. - -For a long time neither of them spoke. Joe felt if he attempted to utter -a word it would choke him, for she was far more wasted than he expected -to see her, and somehow he felt that that was the last time they would -ever meet on earth. - -Nelly was the first to break the silence. - -"I's so glad you's come, Joe," she said simply. - -"Are 'e, my honey?" said Joe, with a choking in his throat. - -"Ay," she replied; "I wanted to see yer once more. You's been very good -to me, Joe, and to Benny, an' I wanted to thank you afore I died." - -"I dunna want thanks, honey," he said, sitting down in the one chair by -her bedside, and hiding his face in his hands. - -"I know yer does not want 'em, Joe; but it does me good, an' I shall -tell the Lord when I gets to heaven how good you've been." - -Joe could not reply, and Nelly closed her eyes, and whispered again to -herself, as she had often done, - - "Seaward fast the tide is gliding, - Shores in sunlight stretch away." - -Then after awhile she spoke again, without opening her eyes. - -"You'll not be long afore you comes too, will yer, Joe?" - -"Perhaps the Lord will let me look at you through the gate," sobbed Joe; -"but I'm afeard He won't let sich as me in." - -"Oh, yes, Joe," she said, opening her eyes with such a pained look. -"Does you think the Lord does not love yer as much as I do? An' won't He -be as glad to see yer as I shall?" - -"It does look reasonable like, my purty," said Joe; "but, oh, I'm so -afeard." - -"'Who-so-ever,'" whispered Nelly, and again closed her eyes, while -the troubled expression passed away, and the smile that Joe loved to -see came back and lit up her pure _spirituelle_ face with a wonderful -beauty. And as Joe watched the smile lingering about her mouth as if -loth to depart, he felt somehow as if that child had been sent of God -to teach him the truth, and to lighten the burden of his dreary life by -giving him a hope of heaven. - -"'Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings,'" he muttered to himself. - -"Yes," said the nurse, coming softly to his side, "out of the mouths of -babes He perfects praise." - -Joe looked up in surprise. "Do you think the bairn is right?" he -stammered out. - -"I'm sure of it," she replied. - -"But what about the elect?" said Joe, in a tone of voice that proclaimed -how deeply he was agitated. - -"I think the elect are 'whosoever will,'" she replied. - -"So Nelly thinks," he said, and shook his head sadly, as if such news -were too good to be true. - -The nurse, besides being a kind motherly woman who dearly loved -children, was also a person of strong common sense, and hence she saw -Joe's difficulty in a moment. - -"You have no children of your own, I suppose," she said. - -"I had a son once," said Joe. "I hope he's still living." - -"You do not love him, of course?" - -In a moment Joe was on his feet. - -"Love him!" said Joe, trembling from head to foot. "I'd lie down an' die -for him this blessed moment if it would do him good." - -"Ah! he has been a very good son, I expect," said the nurse. - -Joe sat down again, and hid his face in his hands. After awhile he -looked up and said with evident emotion, - -"No, he was what people would call a bad son--a very bad 'un." - -"Then if he were to come home again, you certainly would close the door -against him?" - -"Close the door agin him! Close the door agin my own child, my own flesh -and blood! Why, I've been longing for years for him to come home. I -wish he'd try me, he should have the best of everything I've got in the -house. Oh, marcy! how my poor old heart 'ud ache with joy if he were to -come to-night." - -Joe had got quite excited while delivering himself of this long speech. -So the nurse said quietly, - -"So you think, Joe, that you are better than God." - -"Better 'n God?" - -"Yes; more merciful, and loving, and kind." - -"Who said so?" said Joe, staring at her as if he could scarcely believe -his own ears. - -"Well, you implied it," said the nurse, quietly. - -"Me implied it?" said he in a tone of bewilderment. "How so?" - -"Well, you say you have a bad son who has been away many years, and yet -you say you love him still, so much so that you would willingly die for -him; and that, bad as he has been, if he were to come home to-night, -instead of driving him from the door, you would give him the heartiest -welcome, and think nothing in the house too good for him. And yet you -think God will turn away you. So you must admit, Joe," she said with a -smile, "that you think you have more love and mercy in your heart than -God has in His?" - -Joe was silent. And Nelly whispered to the nurse, "Thank you _so_ much." - -After awhile Joe got up, and leaning over the crib, he kissed the pale -brow of the little sufferer. "Good bye, my purty," he whispered. "We'll -meet again, I do believe." - -"Ay, Joe, I'm sure we shall." - -"I'm main sorry to lose 'e," he said in a faltering voice, and brushing -his rough hand across his eyes; "but I ken give yer to God." - -"I'll be waiting, Joe, 'gin you come. Now kiss me, for I'll be gone, I -reckon, afore you come again." - -Silently Joe bent over her, and pressed a last lingering kiss upon her -paling lips. Then, sobbing, turned away and left the room. - -Granny and Benny called a little later in the day, and found her sinking -fast. Her last words to her brother were: "Be good, Benny, an' the Lord -will provide, an' we'll meet in heaven." Then she lay as if asleep, -taking no further notice of any one. - -Once or twice the nurse heard her repeating, "Seaward fast the tide is -gliding," and felt that the words were sadly true. - -The nurse told granny that the child was dying, not of the blow on the -head, but of swift decline. Nothing could save her, she said. The shock -to her nervous system had of course hastened the end; but for that she -might have lived till another spring, but certainly not longer. She did -not seem to suffer in the least. Hour after hour she lay quite still, -while the tide of her little life ebbed swiftly out, and the darkness -stole on apace; but she did not fear the gloom. The brave little heart -that had borne so patiently the frowns of an unkindly world, was now -resting in the love of God. - -The smile that had so long flickered over her face like firelight on a -wall, now settled into a look of deep content. No murmur ever escaped -her lips, not even a sigh; now and then her lips moved as if in prayer, -that was all. - -And thus she lay waiting for the messenger that should still the little -heart into an everlasting rest, and listening for the footfalls that -should tell of the coming of her Lord. - -After her last look at Benny, she was never seen to open her eyes again, -but gradually sank to rest. - - So fades a summer's cloud away, - So sinks the gale when storms are o'er, - So gently shuts the eye of day, - So dies a wave along the shore. - -Two days after, Joe and Benny went together to the Infirmary. But they -were too late: the pure spirit had gone to God, and the little tired -feet were for ever at rest. - -"Cannot we see her?" said Benny. - -"No, you had better not," was the reply. - -Benny felt it very keenly that he might not see his little dead sister, -and yet it was best. - -They were told, however, if they would be at the New Cemetery at the -east of the town on the following day, they might see her buried, and -mark her grave. - -It was a cold cheerless afternoon when little Nelly Bates was laid in -her grave. There was no pomp or display about that funeral, for she was -buried at the public expense. Only two mourners stood by the grave, -Benny and Joe, but they were mourners indeed. - -Benny went from the grave-side of little Nell to his corner under -granny's stairs, and sobbed himself to sleep. And Joe went to his hut to -muse on the mercy of God, and to revel in his new-found hope of heaven. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - -The Tide turns. - - Be what thou seemest: live thy creed, - Hold up to earth the torch divine; - Be what thou prayest to be made; - Let the great Master's steps be thine. - --Bonar. - - -How Benny lived through the next few weeks he never knew. It seemed to -him as if the world had become suddenly dark. The one little being who -had been the sunshine of his life was buried up in the damp cold grave, -and now there seemed nothing to live for, nothing to work for, nothing -even to hope for; for what was all the world to him now his little Nell -was gone? - -He missed her everywhere, and was continually fancying he saw her -running to meet him as he drew near the church where they had regularly -met for so long a time; and sometimes he would turn round with a sudden -start, and with the word "Nelly" on his lips, as he fancied he heard the -pattering of her little feet behind him. - -He grew despondent, too. While Nelly lived there was some one to work -for, some one to bear rebuffs and insults for; but now what did it -matter whether he sold his matches or not? He could go hungry; he did -not mind. In fact, he did not seem to care what became of him. There -seemed to him nothing to fight the world for--nothing. - -But for Joe he would have moped his life away in some dark corner where -no one could see him. But Joe taught him to believe that his little -sister was not lost, only gone before, and that perhaps she looked down -upon him from heaven, and that it might grieve her to see him fretting -so. - -So he tried to sell his matches or earn a penny in some other way in a -listless, hopeless manner. But it was very hard work. And when evening -came he would drag himself wearily to his little corner under granny's -stairs, and generally sob himself to sleep. He missed his little -companion in the evenings almost more than at any time, and wished that -he had died with her. - -Sometimes he went out to the cemetery to see her grave; and no one knew -what the little fellow suffered as he knelt there with clasped hands, -dropping scalding tears upon the cold earth that hid his little sister -from his sight. - -He seemed to take no comfort in anything, not even in the story-books -that granny had hunted up for him, and which he was beginning to read so -nicely. He was proud of his learning while Nelly lived; but all that was -changed now. - -And so the weeks wore away, and winter came in dark and cold. But people -generally did not seem to mind the darkness nor the cold, for Christmas -was drawing near, and they were anticipating a time of mirth and -merrymaking, of friendly greetings and family gatherings. - -The trains began to be crowded again with homecomers for their holidays; -shopkeepers began to vie with each other as to which could present -in their windows the grandest display; the streets were crowded with -well-dressed people who were getting in a stock of Christmas cheer; and -everywhere people seemed bent on enjoying themselves to the utmost of -their ability. - -All this, however, only seemed to make Benny sadder than ever. He -remembered how the Christmas before Nelly was with him, and he was as -happy and light-hearted as he well could be. Yet now the very happiness -of the people seemed to mock his sorrow, and he wished that Christmas -was gone again. - -One bitterly cold afternoon he was at his old place, waiting for the -railway boat to come up to the stage, in the hope that some one of -its many passengers would permit him to carry his or her bag, when -he noticed a gentleman standing against the side of the boat with a -portmanteau in his right hand, and holding the hand of a little girl in -his left. - -The boat was a long time coming to, for a heavy sea was running at the -time, and the gentleman seemed to get terribly impatient at the delay. -But Benny was rather glad of it, for he had abundant opportunity of -looking at the little girl, whose pleasant, smiling face reminded him -more of his little dead sister than any face he had ever seen. - -"Golly, ain't she purty!" said Benny to himself; "and don't that woolly -stuff look hot round her jacket! And what long hair she have!--a'most as -long as little Nell's," and he brushed his hand quickly across his eyes. -"An' she looks good an' kind, too. I specks the gent is her par." - -And Benny regarded the gentleman more attentively than he had hitherto -done. - -"Well now, ain't that cur'us!" he muttered. "If that ain't the very gent -whose portmantle I carried the night faather wolloped me so. I'll try my -luck agin, for he's a good fare, an' not to be sneezed at." - -By this time the gangway had been let down, and the gentleman and his -little girl were among the first to hurry on to the stage. In a moment -Benny had stepped forward, and touching his cap very respectfully, said, - -"Carry yer bag, sir?" - -"No," said the gentleman shortly, and hurried on. - -"Oh, please, sir, do!" said Benny, his eyes filling with tears. "I's had -no luck to-day." - -But the gentleman did not heed his tears or his pleading voice. He had -been annoyed at the delay of the boat, and he was in no mood to brook -further delay. So he said sternly, - -"Be off with you this moment!" - -Benny turned away with a great sob, for since Nelly died rebuffs had -become doubly hard to bear. He did not try to get another fare, but -stood looking out on the storm-tossed river, trying to gulp down the -great lumps that rose continually in his throat. - -"I specks I'll have to starve," he thought bitterly, "for I can't get a -copper to-day nohow." - -Just then he felt a touch on his arm, and turning his brimming eyes, he -saw the little girl he had noticed on the boat. - -"What's the matter, little boy?" she said, in a voice that sounded like -music to the sad-hearted child. - -They were the first kind words that had been spoken to him for the day, -and they completely broke him down. - -At length he stammered out between his sobs, - -"Oh, I's so hungry an' cold, an' little Nelly's dead; an' all the world -is agin me." - -"Have you no father?" she said. - -"No; I's no father, nor mother, nor sister, nor nobody. Nelly was all I -had in the world, an' now she's dead." - -"Poor boy!" said the kindly little voice. "And how do you get your -living?" - -"Oh, I sells matches or carries gents' portmantles when they'll let me, -or anything honest as turns up." - -"Well, don't think papa is unkind because he spoke cross to you, but he -had been annoyed. And here is a shilling he gave me to-day; you need it -more than I do, so I will give it to you. Are you here every day?" - -"Ay, I's mostly here every day," said Benny, closing his fingers around -the bright shilling as one in a dream. - -The next moment he was alone. He looked everywhere for the little girl, -but she was nowhere visible. - -"Golly!" said Benny, rubbing his eyes, "I wonder now if she wur a -hangel. Nelly said as 'ow the Lord 'ud provide. An' mebbe He sent her -with that bob. I wish I had looked more particler to see if she had -wings, 'cause Nelly said as how hangels had wings." - -More than twenty times that afternoon Benny looked at the bright new -shilling that had been given him; the very sight of it seemed to do him -good. It seemed to turn the tide, too, in his favour, for before dark -he had earned another shilling; and that evening he trudged to his home -with a lighter heart than he had known for many a week. - -The weather on Christmas Eve was anything but orthodox. There was -neither frost nor snow; but, on the contrary, it was close and sultry. -Benny had been out in the neighbourhood of Edge Hill with a big bundle -for a woman, who dismissed him with three halfpence, and the remark that -young vagabonds like he always charged twice as much as they expected to -get. So Benny was trudging home in a not very happy frame of mind. He -had been tolerably fortunate, however, during the early part of the day, -and that compensated him to some extent for his bad afternoon's work. - -As he was passing along a street in the neighbourhood of Falkner Square -he was arrested by the sound of music and singing. Now, as we have -hinted before, Benny was very sensitive to the influence of music, and, -in fact, anything beautiful had a peculiar charm for him. The window of -the house before which he stopped stood slightly open, so that he was -not only able to hear the music, but also to distinguish the words that -were being sung. - -It was a pure childish voice that was singing to a simple accompaniment -on the piano,-- - - "There is beauty all around, - When there's love at home; - There is joy in every sound, - When there's love at home. - Peace and plenty here abide, - Smiling sweet on every side; - Time doth softly, sweetly glide, - When there's love at home." - -Benny waited, as if rooted to the ground, until the song ended; waited -a minute longer in the hope that the singer would begin again. And in -that minute the little singer came to the window and looked out and saw -our hero; and Benny, looking up at the same moment, saw the face of his -angel, and hurried away out of sight, as if he had been guilty of some -wrong. - -The little singer was Eva Lawrence, the daughter of a well-to-do man of -business in the town. She was not ten years of age by several months, -but she was unusually thoughtful for her age, and was as kind-hearted as -she was thoughtful. - -As soon as Mr. Lawrence had finished his tea that evening, and had -betaken himself to his easy chair, little Eva clambered upon his knee, -and, putting her arms about his neck, said, - -"Papa, what do you think?" - -"Oh, I think ever so many things," he replied, laughing. - -"Now, you naughty man, you're going to tease again. But I've begun wrong -way about, as usual. I want to ask a favour." - -"I expected as much, Eva," said her father, smiling. "But how many more -Christmas presents will you want?" - -"But this is not a present exactly." - -"Oh, indeed," he said, pretending to look serious. - -"Now, don't be a tease," she said, pulling his whiskers, "for I'm quite -serious. Now listen." - -"I'm all attention, my dear." - -"You want a little boy to run errands and sweep out the office, and do -little odd jobs, don't you?" - -"Well, who has been telling you that?" - -"Nobody, papa; I only wanted to know, you see. So you do, don't you?" - -"Well, I shall the beginning of the year, for the boy I have is leaving. -But what has that to do with my little girl?" - -"Well, papa, our teacher is always telling us that we ought to be little -missionaries, and lend a helping hand to the needy whenever possible, -and do all the good we can." - -"Quite right, my dear; but I can't see yet what my little girl is -driving at." - -"Well, she was telling us only last Sunday that lots of people would -be better if they had better surroundings; and that if something could -be done to get those little street Arabs more out of the reach of -temptation, they might grow up to be good and honest men and women." - -"Well, Eva?" - -"Well, papa, I should like for you to give one of those little street -boys a chance." - -"Who do you mean?" - -"That poor boy I gave the shilling to on the landing-stage the other -day, don't you remember--when you called me a silly girl?" - -"And were you not silly, Eva?" - -"No, papa, I don't think I was; for I am sure the boy is not bad, he has -such honest eyes. And he said he had no father, nor mother, nor brother, -nor sister, and he seemed in such trouble." - -"Well, my child?" - -"You know now what I mean, papa. I confess I had quite forgotten the -poor boy till this afternoon I saw him standing in front of the house. I -had been singing 'Love at Home,' and he had been listening, I think; and -I fancy it had made him sad, for his eyes were full of tears, but when -he saw he was noticed he hurried away as quickly as possible." - -"And suppose I should decide to employ this boy, Eva, where should I -find him?" - -"Oh, he said he was nearly always on the landing-stage. He sold matches -there, except when he was running errands." - -"Well, I will think about it, Eva." - -"Oh, promise, papa, there's a good man." - -"I don't believe in making rash promises, Eva," said Mr. Lawrence -kindly; "and, besides, I have very little faith in those street boys. -They are taught to be dishonest from their infancy, and it is a -difficult matter for them to be anything else; but I'll think about it." - -And Mr. Lawrence was as good as his word; he did think about it, and, -what is more, he decided to give the little boy a trial. - -Benny was on the landing-stage on New Year's Day when Mr. Lawrence was -returning from Chester. He had scarcely left the railway boat when -several lads crowded around him with "Carry yer bag, sir?" Benny among -the number. - -He quickly recognized our hero from the description Eva gave, and placed -his bag in Benny's hand, giving him the address of his office. Arrived -there, much to Benny's bewilderment, he was invited inside, and Mr. -Lawrence began to ply him with questions, all of which he answered in a -straightforward manner, for there was little in his life that he cared -to hide. - -Mr. Lawrence was so much impressed in the boy's favour that he engaged -him at once, promising him two shillings a week more than he had -intended to give. - -When Benny at length comprehended his good fortune--for it was some time -before he did--he sobbed outright. Looking up at length with streaming -eyes, he blurted out, "I can't tell 'e how 'bliged I is," and ran out of -the office and hurried home to tell granny the news, not quite certain -in his own mind whether he was awake or dreaming. - -Granny was upstairs when Benny burst into the room, and when she came -down the first thing she saw was Benny standing on his head. - -"Oh, granny," he shouted, "I's made my fortin! I's a gent at last!" - -Granny was a considerable time before she could really discover from -Benny what had happened; but when she did discover she seemed as pleased -as the child. And a bigger fire was made up, and a more sumptuous supper -was got ready in honour of the occasion. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - -A Glimpse of Paradise. - - I know not how others saw her, - But to me she was wholly fair; - And the light of the heaven she came from - Still lingered and gleamed in her hair; - - For it was as wavy and golden - And as many changes took - As the shadow of sunlight ripples - Or the yellow bed of a brook - --J.R. Lowell. - - -For the next month Benny lived in a seventh heaven of delight. The only -drawback to his happiness was that Nelly was not alive to share his good -fortune. Time was mercifully blunting the keen edge of his sorrow, and -day by day he was getting more reconciled to his loss. Yet never a day -passed but that he wished a hundred times that his little sister were -still with him, that they might rejoice together in his good fortune. He -knew that she was better off, and even hoped that she was not altogether -ignorant of his success in life. Yet how much pleasanter it would have -been, he thought, if they could have journeyed on through life together. - -Benny had wonderful dreams of future success. Though not of a very -imaginative temperament, he could not help occasionally indulging in -daydreams and castle-building, and some of his castles, it must be -admitted, were of the most magnificent description. - -He saw the glowing heights before him, the summits of which others had -reached, and why might not he? He certainly had commenced the ascent: -what was there to hinder him from reaching the top? Had not granny -told him of poor Liverpool boys who, by perseverance and honest toil, -had become wealthy men, and were now occupying high and honourable -positions? Surely, then, there was a chance for him, and if he did not -succeed it should not be for want of trying. - -He felt that already he had got his foot on the first rung of the -ladder, and if there was any chance of his reaching the top he would do -it. And as he thought thus, the future opened out before him in glowing -vistas of unimagined beauty. - -He knew that he must wait many years; that he must work hard and -patiently; that perhaps many difficulties would arise that he could not -foresee; still, still, across the boggy valley the mountain rose up with -its sunlighted crown, and the question came back--Others had reached the -top, then why might not he? - -It is true he never attempted to put these thoughts into words. They -seemed to him too big for utterance; yet they were always with him, -lightening his toil and brightening the long future that lay before him. - -If Benny had been of a less practical turn of mind, he might have done -what so many others have done--dreamed his life away, or waited idly for -fortune to drop her treasures in his lap. But Benny, notwithstanding his -occasional daydreams, was sufficiently matter-of-fact to know that if he -was to win any success in life, it must be by hard work. - -He was already able to read very creditably. But now a new desire seized -him--he would learn to write as well. But how was he to begin? He had to -confess that that was a poser, for neither granny nor Joe could give him -any assistance. Still he had set his heart upon learning to write, and -he was not to be defeated. - -So one day he said to one of Mr. Lawrence's clerks, - -"Does yer think, Mr. Morgan, that I could learn to write if I was to try -very hard?" - -"Of course you could, Benny," said Mr. Morgan, looking kindly down into -the dark earnest-looking eyes of the office boy. For Benny had done -several little things for Mr. Morgan, and so that gentleman was disposed -to be kind to the little waif. - -"But how is I to begin?" said Benny eagerly. - -"I'm busy now," said Mr. Morgan, "but if you will wait till to-morrow, -I'll bring you a slate and pencil, and will set you a copy, and then -you'll be able to begin right off." - -Just then Mr. Lawrence called Benny from the inner office, and sent him -with a note to Mrs. Lawrence, with instructions to wait for an answer. - -"You know the way, Benny?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"But you've never been to the house?" - -"No, sir." - -"Then how do you know the way?" - -"It's where you has the music an' 'love at home,' sir, ain't it?" - -Mr. Lawrence smiled and said, - -"You are on the right track, Benny, I think. Go to the house, and give -this note to the servant that opens the door, and say that you have to -wait for an answer." - -"Yes, sir," said Benny, bowing very politely, and hurrying out of the -office. - -Benny had often longed to listen under the window of Mr. Lawrence's -house that he might hear again the song that had so touched his heart, -and see again the little angel face through whose intercession he owed -his good fortune; for Mr. Lawrence had hinted as much as that to him. -But even if nothing had ever been said, he would still have connected -Mr. Lawrence's kindness to him with his little daughter, who had spoken -so kindly to him in the hour of his sorrow and despair, and whose bright -shilling he still kept, and regarded with almost superstitious reverence. - -But he had never dared to listen under the window again; he felt somehow -as if he had no business in that neighbourhood, no right to look upon -the face of his little benefactress; so he kept away and spent his long -winter evenings by granny's fireside, poring over the few books that she -and Joe were able to procure for him. - -Benny could not help wondering, as he hurried along the streets, holding -the letter very carefully in his hand, whether he would see again the -little face at the window or hear her voice in song. He hoped that one -or the other would greet him; but he was disappointed in both. No face -was at the window, no sound of music floated out on the bright frosty -air. - -He pulled the door-bell very timidly, and then waited a long time very -patiently for the door to open. It was opened, however, at length, and, -bowing very low, he said, - -"Please, 'm, here's a letter from the master, an' I's to wait for an -answer." - -"You'll have to wait some time, then," said the girl, scornfully, "for -Mrs. Lawrence has gone out;" and she shut the door with a bang. - -"May I wait here?" said Benny, looking round the roomy hall. - -"Yes," said the girl; "I'll have no brats in the kitchen; you can sit on -that chair if you like;" and she hurried downstairs. - -Benny obeyed, and sat for a long time holding his cap between his knees. -At length, as he was growing rather impatient, he heard a light step on -the stairs near him, and, looking up, he saw his little benefactress -descending, carrying a huge doll in her arms. - -Benny felt himself growing hot all over, for he had no idea whether it -was the proper thing to stand or sit still, so he shuffled about on his -chair in a very uneasy manner. - -The little girl looked at him curiously for a moment, and then came -towards him, saying, - -"Are you not Benny, that papa has in his office?" - -"Yes, 'm," said Benny, shuffling dangerously near the edge of the chair, -and blushing to the roots of his hair. - -"Don't be frightened," she said, noticing his embarrassment. "I've been -wanting a long time to see you. Are you waiting for something?" - -"Ay," said Benny, regaining his composure; "the master sent me with a -letter, an' told me to wait an answer." - -"Well, mamma won't be in yet, so you can come into the nursery; it is -warm there." - -Benny had not the remotest idea what a nursery was, but he followed -his guide at what he thought a very respectful distance, and soon -found himself in the most wonderful room he had ever seen in his life. -Toys of every description were scattered about, and pictures of every -description adorned the walls. A swing was suspended from the ceiling -in the centre of the room, and in the nearest corner was a doll's -house furnished in magnificent style. But what most attracted Benny's -attention was a huge rocking-horse. At first he thought it was alive, -but soon found out his mistake, though his wonderment was not in the -least diminished by his discovery. - -Little Eva Lawrence was evidently amused at Benny's astonishment, and -after regarding him for some time with a merry twinkle in her eyes, said, - -"Did you never see a rocking-horse before, Benny?" - -"Never!" was the laconic reply. - -"Would you like to ride, Benny?" - -"Wouldn't I just!" said Benny, his eyes beaming with pleasure. - -"Well, here are the steps; take care you don't fall off, though," said -Eva. - -"Oh, never fear," said Benny, mounting the horse. "Now for 't, miss, an' -see if I ain't a stunner at it!" - -And the next moment our hero was sprawling on the floor in the middle of -the room. - -"Golly!" he ejaculated, picking himself up with a bewildered air, and -scratching his head. "I's floored, to a sartinty." - -"You tried to go too fast to begin with," laughed Eva; "you'll do better -next time." - -"May I try again?" he questioned. - -"Oh, yes," was the reply; "I want you to enjoy yourself." - -And enjoy himself he did, to his heart's content. - -After awhile Eva said, "Now, Benny, I want to know more about you: won't -you tell me something about yourself and about your little sister?" - -"Ay, that I will, if you wish," said Benny, sitting down in a low chair -before the fire. And in his simple childish way he told her all the -story with which the reader is acquainted--for he had lost all shyness -now--told it with a simple eloquence and pathos that brought the tears -again and again to his little listener's eyes. Ay, he wept himself when -he told of his little sister, of her goodness and of her love. He did -not even hide from his listener the story of his temptation, and how but -for his little Nelly he would have been a thief in act as well as in -heart. - -With the account of little Nelly's death Eva was much affected, and -Benny sobbed again as the recollection of his loss came back to him. - -"I thought I should ha' died when she were took," said he, between his -sobs. - -"Poor little boy!" said Eva, soothingly; "but you see your little -sister's words have come true, after all." - -"What words, miss?" - -"Why, what you told me just now, Benny,--how the Lord would provide." - -"Oh, ay," said Benny, reflectively, "though I wur as near as nothin' to -starvin' the day I fust seed you." - -"Were you? Then perhaps the Lord sent me to help you." - -"Oh, no doubt on that score," said Benny, stoutly; "I's sartin about -that matter." - -"Do you go to Sunday-school, Benny?" - -Benny shook his head. - -"Nor to church or chapel?" - -"Not since that night me an' Nelly went, that I told you 'bout." - -"How is that?" - -"Well, we did try to get into another place o' the sort, smarter like, -but the gent at the door shoved us out, an' said there wur no room for -such brats as us, an' told us to be off 'bout our bizness." - -"Poor boy!" said Eva, wondering if he came to the chapel she attended -if he would not receive similar treatment. - -At length she looked up and said, "I would go to that chapel again, that -you and Nelly attended, if I were you, on a Sunday. It would not be -closed then, and I'm sure that kind gentleman would be glad to have you -in the Sunday-school." - -"Oh, then, I'll go," said Benny, who felt that this little girl's wish -was law to him. - -Soon after Mrs. Lawrence came in, read her husband's note without a -word, and hastily wrote a reply. - -"Make haste, Benny," she said kindly, giving him the letter she had -written. "I'm afraid Mr. Lawrence will think you've been away a very -long time." - -Benny took the letter without a word, and hurried away with a heart full -of gratitude for the kindly treatment he had received. It seemed to him -as if that day he had had a glimpse of Paradise, and had spoken to one -of God's angels face to face. - -How bright and smooth his path of life was growing! He almost feared -sometimes that he was dreaming, and that he would awake and find himself -destitute and forsaken. - -He was now beginning to enjoy life, and as he looked back upon the past -he almost wondered how he and his little sister had managed to live in -those dark years of cold and want. - -When Joe Wrag first heard of Benny's good fortune, he lifted up his -hands, and said in a voice of reverence, - -"The Lord is good! the Lord is good!" Then after a moment's pause he -went on, "But oh! what an old sinner I've a-been, to be sure." - -"How so?" said Benny. - -"How so? 'cause as how I turned my back upon God, an' tried to persuade -mysel' that He had turned His back on me. Oh, I did, lad, an' in my -heart I called Him 'ard names. I didn't dare say it wi' my lips, but in -my heart, boy, I said He wur cruel--that He wur a monster, that He had -no feelin', that He had shut the door agin' me, when all the time He wur -a-sayin', 'Joe, come back, come back, for there's room in the Father's -heart and home for thee.' But, oh! praise His name, He sent His hangel -to tell poor owd Joe the way, an' reveal the Father's love--He did, boy, -for sure." - -"His hangel, Joe?" said Benny, trying in vain to comprehend all Joe had -said. - -"Ay, His hangel, boy. An' that hangel wur little Nell, bless her! she's -wi' Him now, in the land where there's no more sorrow nor pain, an' -Joe's on the way." - -And the old man looked up into the star-bespangled sky, as if he would -look through the very floor of heaven. - -Benny thought of all this, as he hurried from Mr. Lawrence's door, and -felt as if he, too, had had an angel sent from God to help him on the -way to heaven. - -Poor boy! he did not see the heavy cloud that was gathering in the sky, -nor the dark and painful paths that lay before him, which he, with -bruised and bleeding feet, would have to tread. He only saw the promised -land, bathed in sunshine and clad in beauty, a land where plenty reigned -and want could never come, and knew not of the weary wilderness that lay -between. He thought that he had passed through the wilderness already, -and that all the sorrow, and hunger, and pain lay behind him. - -It was well he did so. Let him enjoy the sunshine while it lasts, and -dream his happy dreams of coming joy. The awaking will come all too -soon. Poor boy! may God protect him in the struggle of life. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - -A Terrible Alternative. - - Sow truth, if thou the true wouldst reap,-- - Who sows the false shall reap the vain; - Erect and sound thy conscience keep, - From hollow words and deeds refrain. - - Sow love, and taste its fruitage pure; - Sow peace, and reap its harvest bright; - Sow sunbeams on the rock and moor, - And reap a harvest home of light - --Bonar. - - -The days of peace and sunshine sped all too swiftly. Winter soon gave -place to budding spring, and spring lengthened into summer. Twelve -months had passed since that happy day in Eastham Woods, for June had -come again; and the parks and squares were once more green, and the -streets were hot and dusty. - -It had been a strange year to Benny. Pain and pleasure had strangely -commingled. Never had he felt such sorrow, never had he known such joy. -The old year had closed in sorrow and despair; the new year had opened -in joy and hope. - -Benny had grown much during those twelve months, for neither the -chastening of grief nor the stimulus of kindness had been lost upon -him. Both had done him good, and so the year had been to him one of -growth--growth in every sense. He had grown physically. He was barely -twelve yet, but he was well developed for his age; especially so -considering how little had been the care bestowed on his childhood. His -face was open and pleasant, and there was a frank honest expression in -his eyes that won him favour wherever he went. - -He had grown, too, mentally. Mr. Morgan had regularly set him copies, -and Mr. Lawrence, discovering his eagerness to learn, had lent him -books that would help him in the pursuit of knowledge. He became a most -diligent student. At first he sought after knowledge as a means to an -end. He believed that it would help him in the race of life. But the -farther he advanced the pleasanter became his studies, and knowledge -became precious for its own sake. What at first he set before himself as -a stern and even unpleasant duty, became at last a joy and delight. - -He was eager also to improve his manners. He was anxious to speak -correctly, and not be a disgrace to the gentleman who employed him and -the butt of the clerks. And it was wonderful what progress he made in -this respect. It is true that he frequently forgot himself, and the old -expressions that habit had made familiar rolled easily from his tongue. -But he had made up his mind to conquer, and he was certainly succeeding. - -And last, but not least, he had grown morally. For three months he had -regularly attended the Sunday-school, and among the five hundred boys -and girls that assembled regularly week after week there was not a -more diligent inquirer than Benny. The spiritual discernment that Joe -Wrag thought he lacked was being given, and the "old, old story" was -beginning to have a wonderful fascination for him. - -Mr. Lawrence was wonderfully pleased with his _protege_, and had decided -that if during the next six months he made such progress as he had done -in the past, he should be promoted to a higher position. - -Benny regarded his fortune as made. Never had life seemed so bright -to him as, one Saturday afternoon, he was busy at work putting Mr. -Lawrence's office in order. There was no one in the office but himself. -Mr. Lawrence had just left, giving him instructions that he must wait -till Mr. Morgan returned, who would lock up the offices, and then he -(Benny) must bring up the keys to his residence. - -Benny had swept out the inner office, put the few books that were lying -about in their proper places on the shelves, and was busy dusting the -furniture, humming to himself the song that haunted him continually-- - - "There is beauty all around, - When there's love at home," - -when Mr. Lawrence came in hurriedly, and went straight to his desk and -began to search carefully among the few papers that were lying on it; -then he looked behind it, around it, and underneath it, but it was -evident, from the perplexed look on his face, that he could not find -what he was in search of. - -"Benny," he called, "come here." - -And Benny came in from the outer office, to which he had retired on Mr. -Lawrence's appearance. - -"Has Mr. Morgan returned yet?" demanded Mr. Lawrence, in a stern voice. - -"No, sir," said Benny, wondering what had happened. - -"Has any one been here since I left?" - -"No, sir." - -"You are quite sure?" - -"Yes, sir, quite sure." - -"Then will you tell me what has become of the five-pound note that I -left lying on the desk when I went out?" And he looked straight in -Benny's face. - -Benny turned pale, for he knew what the question implied, but he did -not quail before Mr. Lawrence's stern gaze, and, looking his employer -straight in the eyes, he answered, - -"I do not know, sir; I have not seen it." - -"Now, Benny," said Mr. Lawrence, "mind what you are saying." - -In a moment his face flushed crimson as he answered, - -"Did you ever know me lie, sir?" - -"No, Benny," answered Mr. Lawrence; "I never did, nor steal either. -Though I can quite conceive how, in a moment of weakness, you might be -tempted to do both." - -"But I've done neither," said Benny, with trembling lip. - -For a moment Mr. Lawrence was silent, then he said, - -"Look here, Benny. I left a five-pound note on the desk when I went out. -I am quite certain of that--as certain as I am that I stand here at this -moment. And, according to your own statement, no one but yourself has -been in the office since I left, and when I come back the note is gone. -What am I to think?" - -"It's mighty queer, sir," said Benny, turning pale again; "but I hope -you'll not think that I've took it." - -"I'm afraid that I must think so." - -Then there was another pause, while Benny trembled from head to foot. At -length Mr. Lawrence spoke again. - -"I do not wish to be hard with you, Benny," he said; "and if you will -only confess that you have taken the note, I will forgive you." - -"And if I was to tell a lie and say I took it, you would ask me for it -at once, and I ain't got it." And Benny burst into tears. - -"No, I will be more lenient still, for I know what a grief it will be to -my little girl when she hears about it. If you will only confess that -you have taken it, I won't even ask you to return it. But if you will -not confess, I'm afraid the law will have to take its course." - -Poor Benny! It was a terrible moment to him, and he tried to realize -how much depended upon his answer. By telling a lie he might still -keep his situation and the friendship of his little benefactress, and -yet reach the heights to which his ambition pointed. But if he stuck -to the truth, what would there be? A prison, perhaps, and then the old -life in the streets--hunger and weariness and cold. True, if he told a -lie Mr. Lawrence would then have no doubt of his guilt. But, alas! he -would still believe him guilty if he told the truth, and not only Mr. -Lawrence, but every one else that knew him would regard him as a thief. - -It was a terrible alternative. Tell a lie, and still go on the shining -way that for months had been opening up before him; tell the truth, and -go back to the old life, that would now seem worse than death--go back -to want and disgrace. - -At one time he would not have been long in deciding the question. But -conscience had been awakened since then, and, while he hesitated, -the little pale face of his dead sister rose up between him and his -employer, and a voice within seemed to whisper, "Tell the truth, Benny, -and the Lord will provide." - -It was a brief interval since Mr. Lawrence had spoken, but in those few -moments Benny had fought the fiercest battle of his life, and had won -the victory. - -He lifted his swimming eyes to Mr. Lawrence and said, - -"I cannot tell a lie, sir." That was all. - -Mr. Lawrence regarded him for a few moments in silence, then left the -office with a deeply puzzled expression on his face. He did not know -what to think. Either Benny was honest or he was a most hardened thief, -and somehow he felt that the boy could not be the latter. He had always -found him so truthful and thoughtful and obliging. There seemed nothing -bad about the boy. And yet where could that note be if he had not taken -it? - -And again he walked back into the office, and commenced a search more -careful and diligent than before, but all without avail: the note was -nowhere to be found. - -Sorely puzzled what to do, he left the office once more, and had -scarcely got into the street when he stumbled across Police-inspector -Sharp. - -"Good afternoon," said the inspector, touching his hat. - -"Good afternoon," said Mr. Lawrence, passing on. He had not gone many -steps, however, before he turned back. - -"I don't know but that it is a fortunate thing, Sharp, that I have met -you," he said. "The fact is, I'm in a bit of a difficulty, and I don't -know a more likely man than you to help me out." - -"I'm at your service, sir," said Mr. Sharp, "and if I can render you any -assistance, I shall be most happy to do so." - -"Well, the fact is," said Mr. Lawrence, and he went on to tell all -the circumstances connected with the missing note, and finished up by -saying, "But somehow I cannot for the life of me believe the boy has -stolen it." - -"Indeed, now," said Mr. Sharp, putting on a professional air, "I cannot -for the life of me believe that the urchin has _not_ stolen it. So you -see my difficulty is in the opposite direction, Mr. Lawrence." - -"But you don't know this lad, Mr. Sharp." - -"Well, perhaps, I don't know this particular young dog, but I know the -whole tribe of them," said Mr. Sharp, trying to look wise, "and I tell -you they are all rogues and vagabonds, from the oldest to the youngest -of 'em. Bless you, it is bred in their very bones, and they couldn't be -honest if they were to try ever so." - -"But this boy has been with me six months, and a nicer lad I never knew." - -"Ay, yes, Mr. Lawrence, their cunning is amazing; and they can play the -hypocrite equal to old Satan himself. I tell you what, sir, if you had -had the experience of 'em that I've had, you'd mistrust the whole tribe -of 'em." - -"Well, I dare say, Sharp, you know more about them than I do, and I -confess that it was with some amount of misgiving that I engaged the -boy; but he has never taken anything before." - -"Did you ever give him the chance?" - -"Well, perhaps not," said Mr. Lawrence, looking thoughtful. - -"Just so," said Inspector Sharp. "The young dog has patiently waited his -opportunity. Oh, bless you, sir, they know their game." - -"But what had I better do?" said Mr. Lawrence, looking puzzled. - -"If you'll leave the matter to me," said Mr. Sharp, "_I'll_ work the -oracle for you, and very likely restore you the missing money." - -"I'm very unwilling to prosecute," said Mr. Lawrence, in a troubled tone -of voice. - -"Just so, just so. I quite understand your feeling. But you'll not have -need to do much in that direction, I can assure you," said Mr. Sharp, in -a patronizing manner. - -"Well," said Mr. Lawrence, looking like a man that had made up his mind -to submit to a painful operation, "I'll leave the matter in your hands." - -Half an hour later, as Benny stood in the street waiting until Mr. -Morgan had locked the doors, a police constable came forward and touched -him on the arm. - -"You'll come with me!" he said. "I've found fresh lodgings for you -to-night." - -"Did Mr. Lawrence send you?" said Benny, the tears standing in his eyes. - -"The orders came from him in the first place," said the policeman; "he -intends to stop your cribbing for a week or two." - -"Oh, but I didn't steal the money," sobbed Benny, "I didn't really." - -"They all say that," laughed the constable; "but from what I can hear, -you're a particular cunning dog. However, you're caught this time." - -Benny felt that it was of no use saying any more, so he walked along by -the officer's side with the calmness of despair settling down upon his -heart. - -He had no wish to resist. He knew it would be useless for him to attempt -to do so. He had lost everything now, and the only thing he hoped for -was that death might come speedily, and that he might soon be laid to -rest by the side of his little sister, and be at peace for ever. - -He thought everybody was looking at him, as the officer led him through -the streets, and he could not help feeling thankful now that Nelly was -dead. Such disgrace would break her heart if she were alive. And for the -first time he felt glad that she was sleeping in her grave. - -How changed everything had become in one short day! A few hours ago -he was mourning the loss of his sister; now he was glad that she was -numbered with the dead. But one short hour before the world had never -seemed so bright, and he had thought how he should enjoy the beautiful -summer evening in Wavertree Park; now the world had never seemed so -cheerless and dark, and his evening was to be spent in a prison cell. - -Poor boy! it is no wonder that he wished he might die, for every hope -had been blasted in an hour. - -On arriving at the police station he was thrust into his cell without -a word. He was thankful to find that it was empty, for he wanted to be -alone with his thoughts. Selecting the darkest corner, he crouched down -upon the floor and rested his head upon his knees. He could not weep, -his grief was too great for tears. He could only think and think, until -his thoughts seemed to scorch his very brain. And as he crouched thus, -while the hours of that summer's afternoon and evening dragged slowly -along, his whole life passed vividly before him, he seemed to live it -all over again, and he asked himself if he could go back to the old life -of hunger and cold in the streets. - -When Nelly was with him, and they knew no other life, they were not -unhappy. But he had had a glimpse of Paradise since then. He had tasted -the joys of hope and had cherished dreams of a happy future, and he felt -that it would be easier to die than to return in disgrace to what he had -thought he had left behind him for ever. - -It was very hard that just as the world seemed brightest, and hope -seemed growing into certainty--just as the path of life was getting -clear, and the end seemed certain, that he should be thus thrust down, -and thrust down to a lower depth than he had known in his darkest days. - -Could it be true, he asked himself again and again, that he, who had -been trying so hard to be good and truthful and honest, was really in -prison on a charge of theft? It had come upon him so suddenly that he -thought sometimes it must be all some horrid dream, and that he would -surely awake some time and find the bright future still before him. - -And so the hours wore away, and the light faded in the little patch of -sky that was visible through his high grated window, and the cell grew -darker and more dismal all the while. - -At length there was a tramp of feet in the courtyard outside. The key -grated in the lock, the door flew open, and two lads were tumbled into -the cell. These were followed in half an hour by three others, and Benny -became aware by the noises in the courtyard that other cells were being -filled as well as the one he occupied. And, as the darkness deepened, -night grew hideous with shouts, and laughter, and songs, and curses loud -and deep. - -It seemed to him as if he had got to the very mouth of hell. Nothing -that he had ever heard in Addler's Hall or Bowker's Row could at all -compare with what he heard that night: now there was the sound of blows; -now cries for help; now shrieks of murder, accompanied by volleys of -oaths and shouts of laughter. - -The companions of his own cell were on the whole tolerably orderly, -and were evidently disposed to make the best of their situation. They -started several songs, but in every case broke down at the end of the -second line, so at length they gave up trying, and settled themselves -down to sleep. - -It was far on towards morning before all grew still, but silence did -drop down upon the prisoners at last; and Benny, weary with counting -the beats of his heart, dropped at length into a troubled sleep. It was -late in the morning when he awoke again, and for a moment he was unable -to recall what had happened or where he was. Then the memory of the past -evening rushed in upon him like a flood, and he buried his face in his -hands in the misery of despair. - -He wondered what granny would think of his absence, and what his teacher -would think in the Sunday-school. Alas! he should see them no more, for -how could he go to them with such a stain upon his name? - -While he was musing thus he was startled by a familiar voice addressing -him, and looking up he saw Perks looking at him, with a broad grin upon -his countenance. - -"Well, this are a onexpected pleasure!" he said. "I's jolly glad to see -yer, Ben. Yer see, I's of a very forgivin' natur'." - -But Benny made no reply. He only wondered if his misery would ever end. - -"In the dumps, eh?" continued Perks. "Well, I an' my mates'll help you -out in quick sticks: now let's have a song all together. You ken take -the big end, that's the bass, yer know." - -"I want to be quiet," said Benny; "do let me alone." - -"In course I'll let 'e alone. I looks like it, don't I? I's a very -forgivin' natur', Mister Benjamin Bates, you knows that, though I don't -forget. But the fact is, I's so pleased to 'ave yer company agin, that -I'm bound to show my delight in some way." - -"If you don't take yourself off, Perks, you'll wish you had," said Benny. - -"Now, don't be touchy, Mr. Bates. But let's dance a cornpipe, while one -o' my mates whistles 'Pop goes the Weasel.'" - -Poor Benny! he could not escape his tormentor, so he bore throughout -that weary Sabbath, as best he could, a series of petty persecutions. He -tried to be patient, he even tried to pray, but the only prayer he could -utter was, "O Lord, kill me at once, and put me out of misery." - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - -An Experiment. - - Sow ye beside all waters, - Where the dew of heaven may fall; - Ye shall reap, if ye be not weary. - For the Spirit breathes o'er all. - - Sow, though the thorns may wound thee: - One wore the thorns for thee; - And though the cold world scorn thee, - Patient and hopeful be. - --Anna Shipton. - - -While Benny in his prison-cell was dragging out the weary hours -of that June Sabbath, Joe Wrag was engaged in an experiment that -had occupied his thoughts for some considerable time. Since that -never-to-be-forgotten day when he had kissed his little Nelly a last -good bye, he had never doubted three things:--First, that the elect were -"whosoever will;" second, that he had been accepted of the Father; and, -third, that little Nelly Bates had been to him the "sent of God," to -lead him out of the darkness of error into the light of truth. - -The certainty that he was included in God's invitation of mercy was to -him a new revelation. He felt as if he had suddenly grown young again, -and, notwithstanding his grief for his little pet, he experienced a joy -springing up in his heart the like of which he had never known before. - -The words that have comforted so many sorrow-bruised hearts--"for we -mourn not as those without hope, for them that sleep in Him"--seemed to -him to have a new and deeper meaning. For he felt that not only was his -little Nelly safe, but that he, too, was secure in the almighty love of -God. - -For several weeks Joe hardly knew at times whether he was in the -body or out of it. Wrapped in contemplation, he would forget "all -time and toil and care," and the long nights would slip away like a -dream. He grew more silent than ever; but the look of melancholy was -rapidly disappearing from his weatherbeaten face, and an expression of -heart-rest and peace was taking its place. - -But one morning, as Joe was walking home from his work, lost as usual in -contemplation, a thought crossed his mind that fairly startled him, and -for several moments he stood stock-still in the street. - -"Oh, dear! oh, dear!" he groaned. "If I don't desarve to be reprobated, -my name's not Joe Wrag." - -Then he walked on again with rapid strides, as if he would escape the -haunting thought. But the thought would not leave him; nay, it seemed to -grow into a living voice, that sounded clear and distinct above the roar -of the streets. - -"Joe Wrag," it said, "is your religion such a selfish thing, and is -your joy such a selfish thing, that you can think of nothing but -yourself? Are you the only one for whom Christ died? Are there no tired -and toil-worn men and women around you struggling in the darkness and -longing for light? Do you want heaven all to yourself, that you invite -no one to go along with you? For shame, Joe Wrag, you are actually -growing selfish! In your thankfulness that you have found a place of -shelter, you have forgotten the many outside still exposed to the storm. -Is this what you have learnt of Christ? Get down on your knees, man, and -ask His pardon, and ask Him for grace also that you may be saved from -yourself, and that henceforth you may live for Christ and humanity." - -"O Lord, have marcy!" cried Joe, rushing on faster and faster. "I've -been as blind as a bat, an' as selfish as sin could make me. Enter not -into judgment with me for Thy marcy's sake, an' I'll try to do better--I -will, for sure." - -When Joe reached his home, he went at once to his bed-room, and, falling -on his knees, he poured out his soul in a long and agonizing prayer. He -prayed for grace and strength, he prayed for light and wisdom. He did -not ask for peace or joy, but he asked to be made holy and useful, that -he might do diligently his life-work, and be able to say when death -came, "I have finished the work that Thou gavest me to do." - -When Joe came downstairs a light was shining in his eyes, such as his -wife (who had been for many years Joe's "thorn in the flesh") had never -seen before. - -From that day Joe Wrag was a changed man, and, as might be expected, -his wife was the first to notice the change and the first to appreciate -it. That very morning, instead of eating his meal in silence, as had -been his custom for many years, he began to talk to her, to ask her -questions, and to interest himself in domestic affairs. And when he -had taken his four or five hours' sleep, instead of moping in silence, -as he had been in the habit of doing, until it was time to go to his -work, he actually began to help his wife to tidy up the house, and even -anticipated her wants in several little matters, and altogether made -himself so agreeable that his wife was at her wits' end to know what had -come over him. - -Mary Wrag had grown, as the years had slipped by, from a light-hearted, -high-spirited girl, into a sour, disappointed, and vixenish woman. Poor -Joe was utterly at a loss to understand the change that had come over -her. He could not think that he had contributed to it in the smallest -degree. He had never crossed her, never answered her back when she -snarled at him, never bothered her with his own troubles, and never -vexed her by trying to pry into hers. He had always let her have her own -way, and had scarcely interfered with her in anything, and hence it was -a mystery to him how she had grown so cross-grained and sour. - -It was a very common mistake, and one that has been fraught with the -most serious results. He did not know how, in the years gone by, his -wife had longed to share his troubles (for she was too proud to tell -him), and how she wanted him to share hers. He did not know what a -trouble it was to her when he sat hour after hour moody and silent, -never speaking to her, and taking no interest in anything she did or -said. He did not know what bitter tears she shed in the early years of -their wedded life, because he would not notice a new bow of pink ribbon -she had made, or a new fashion in which she had done up her glossy hair. - -"I don't believe," she would say bitterly, "that Joe cares a bit what I -wears. It's not a bit of pleasure to try an' make oneself look nice, for -he never notices." - -And so she grew cross and sour. He never blamed her, it is true, but she -complained to herself that he never praised her, and even when she got -thoroughly out of temper and gave him a good "blowing up," his silence -only exasperated her all the more. - -"I'd rather a thousan' times over," she would say, "that he'd get cross, -an' answer back again, than sit still, turnin' up his eyes like a dyin' -dolphin." - -Had Joe known all this, it would certainly have been a great trouble to -him, and yet if he had known it, it would doubtless have saved him many -years of pain. - -But after the morning to which we have alluded, Joe's conduct and manner -changed in a remarkable degree. He became thoughtful and attentive and -communicative, and he began to think, too, that his wife's temper was -improving; and after a few weeks he was surprised at the wonderful -change that had come over her, little dreaming that it was the change in -himself that had produced the change in his wife. - -The experiment to which we alluded in the opening sentences of -this chapter was that of trying to get hold of his neighbours and -acquaintances, and helping them if possible to a higher and better -life. There were people living all round him--some of them he had known -for twenty years--who never went to church or chapel, and who seemed -utterly unconcerned about death and the great hereafter that lay beyond -it--people whose life was one hopeless round of toil, with nothing to -brighten or cheer its dull monotony. Some of them were decent people -too, honest and industrious. It is true they got drunk occasionally, and -were not always as civil to their wives and families and to each other -as they might be; yet, notwithstanding, they had a soft place in their -hearts, and were ever ready to watch by a sick neighbour's bed-side, or -lend a helping hand to a mate more needy than themselves. - -How to get hold of these children of the great Father, and lead them -into His fold, was a problem that had puzzled Joe for some time. At -length he decided, with his wife's consent, to invite them to tea, or as -many of them as could be accommodated, some Sunday afternoon, and when -he had got them together, to talk to them on those matters which were of -such vital importance. - -Accordingly the invitations were sent out, and on the Sunday afternoon -already mentioned some fifteen men found their way to Joe Wrag's -cottage, wondering what was in the wind. - -When they had all got comfortably seated on the forms that Joe had -provided, Joe stood up in a corner of the room, and looked around him: -evidently it was no easy task to begin to talk. Joe had no idea that it -would be so difficult. Every eye was fixed upon him with a wondering -expression. Joe coughed two or three times, then making a tremendous -effort, he said, - -"You all know me, mates?" - -"Ay," they all exclaimed, "we ought to, anyhow." - -"Ay, jist so," said Joe, feeling more at ease now that the ice was -broken; "but I've discovered lately, lads, that I ain't a-done my duty." - -"Come, old boss, we ain't a-blamin' yer; so don't begin a ballyraggin' -yoursel' in that way," said one of the men. - -"Facts is stubborn, though," went on Joe, "an' I see that I've kep' -mysel' too much to mysel', an' I ain't a-been that neighbourly as I -ought to ha' been; but I intend to do differ'nt." - -"Well, I'm hanged," said the man who had before spoken, "if I ain't -considerable at a loss, Joe, to know what yer drivin' at." - -"I 'spects so, no doubt, but I'm not good at 'splainin'; but it 'pears -to me, mates, as how we ain't got hold o' life by the right end." - -"Yer mean _us_, Joe?" questioned several voices together. - -"Well, p'raps I do. Yer don't git much comfort in this life, and yer -ain't preparin' for a better life. Don't stop me; but I used to think -that heaven wern't for me, and for lots o' us poor chaps--that we -didn't belong to the elect; but, bless yer, lads, I know now, that -the elect are everybody as likes. We are all God's children, an' He -loves us all, the bad 'uns as well as the good 'uns, an' He's promised -pardon an' heaven to whosoever will. Let me tell 'e lads, how it came -about. A little girl an' her brother comed an' axed me to let 'em warm -theirselves by my fire one pinchin' cold night. A purtier little critter -than little Nelly never breathed, wi' her great round eyes an' sweet -mouth. I seem to see her now, though she's asleep in her grave. Well, -when her father druv 'em from home, I got a place for 'em wi' Betty -Barker. An' Betty used to read to 'em out o' the Testament. An' then -they got into a chapel, an' heerd a couple o' sermons--leastaway Nelly -did; the lad were asleep durin' the preachin'. Well, you can't tell -how eager that little gal became to know more about the Saviour, an' -heaven, an' all the rest o' it. An' she used to come an' ax me all sorts -o' questions. Bless yer, that little girl had real speretuel insight; -she used to floor me complete. I never heerd sich posers as she used to -put sometimes. But I tell 'e, mates, every one of the questions helped -to lead me out o' the darkness into the light. Day after day it got -clearer, an' yet I doubted. I spoke the promises to the little gal, and -yet I were afeard to take 'em mysel'. I had a vision, too, one night, -an' that helped me amazin'. But not until my little Nell was dyin' did I -see clear. The nurse said to me what she seed the little gal wanted to -say, an' that took down the last shutter, an' the light streamed in. I -can't tell yer all the joy, lads, I've felt, but for a long time I kept -it all to mysel'. But the Lord has showed to me how selfish I've been, -an' now I want for everybody to get close to the Saviour." - -For a moment there was silence, then one of the men said, - -"But there's wussur chaps 'n us goin'." - -"Ay, that's true, lad," said Joe; "but you're all bad enough to be -better, an' the Saviour wants 'e all to be good, an' He wants to help 'e -all to be patient an' bear the burden of life, an' He wants to show 'e -how much He loves an' cares for 'e all." - -"I dunna think He ken love us very much," said one of the men sullenly, -"or He wouldn't ha' put us in this 'ere muck all our lives." - -"Well, lads," replied Joe thoughtfully, "I 'fess I can't 'splain all. -An' the Book tells us how we on'y see through a glass darkly. We looks -at life an' the world an' everything through a smoked glass, an' it all -'pears dark. But I tell 'e, lads, this I know, that God loves us, ay, -loves us, and He'll make everything right and square by-and-bye, if we -will only leave it wi' Him." - -"I dunna see much sign o' the love anywheres," said the man in reply. - -"P'r'aps so," said Joe. "But yer see, mates, as how sin an' the devil -have comed in th' world, an' they's made terrible mischief, terrible, -and many o' us 'as bin 'elping the devil all we could, an' so between us -we's got oursels into a queer scrape, an' piled misery an' sorrow o' top -o' our 'eads. But God loved us so much that He sent the Saviour to take -away our sin an' make us free. An' yet all the time we complain as if -our Father made all the mischief an' trouble, when most o' us 'as a-made -it oursels." - -"Ay, that's true, lad," said Dick Somerset, the man that had spoken most. - -"Course it are true," said Joe, brightening up. "An', besides, it may be -a good thing for us to be kep' poor an' 'ave plenty o' 'ard work. The -Lord knows best, you may depend on 't, what's best for us; lots of us -couldn't stand riches, 't would be the greatest curse we could 'ave. I -b'lieve if you place some people on a hoss they'd ride to the devil, but -if you were to keep 'em in clogs they'd plod on all the way to Paradise." - -"It's 'nation 'ard, though," said several of the men, "to be allers -a-grindin' away at it as we's bound to do." - -"Ay, lads," said Joe, "that are true, an' yet I reckon we ain't a-tried -very much to better our position. Some o' yer 'as spent in drink what -yer might a-saved, an' if yer 'ad a-done so, an' 'ad spent yer evenin's -improvin' yer mind an' gettin' some larnin', ye might ha' been better -off. I might, I see it now quite clear; but as I said at the fust, we's -'ad hold o' life by the wrong end. An' I wants us all to begin afresh." - -"But how is we to do it, Joe?" said several voices. - -"Well, let's begin by axin' the Lord for pardon for all the past, an' -for strength to do better for the future." - -And Joe got down upon his knees at once and began to pray, and while he -pleaded the promises, it seemed to him as if the little room became full -of the presence of the Most High. All his hesitancy of speech vanished. -It seemed to him as if he had got hold of the very hand of God, and he -cried out, "I will not let Thee go until Thou bless me." Promise after -promise crowded into his mind with more rapidity than he could utter -them; until at length, overcome by his feelings, he cried out, "I canna -doubt, I canna doubt no more!" then he hid his face in his hands, and -there was silence throughout the room. When he rose from his knees his -face fairly shone with joy, and the men looked wonderingly at him and at -each other. - -Just then there was a knock at the little kitchen door, and Joe's wife -came in to say that she was waiting to bring in the tea. - -"Right thee are, lass," said Joe. "I'd nearly forgotten the tea; bring -it away as fast as thee likes." - -And Mary Wrag and a neighbour's wife who had come in to help began -to bring in large plates of cake and bread and butter, which the men -greedily devoured. It was very evident that whatever they thought of the -other part of the service, they enjoyed this part of it. - -Joe was more pleased than he could tell at his experiment, and from -that day every Sunday afternoon his house was thrown open to any of his -neighbours who might like to come in, and hear the Bible read, and have -a little conversation about spiritual things. - -It was wonderful, now that the tongue of this silent man had been -unloosed, how freely he could talk, and he never lacked a congregation. -The neighbours flocked to hear him talk of Jesus and of His wondrous -love, and in Joe's little kitchen many a weary and heavy-laden soul -found peace and rest. - -In a little Bethel near his home Joe found a place to worship God. He -loved now to be in the house of prayer. It no longer gave him pain to -talk of heaven and of the joys of the redeemed for he knew that heaven -was open to him, and that in a little while he would find again the -little angel that led him into the light, and look upon the Saviour whom -he loved. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - -Perks again. - - I knew, I knew it could not last; - 'T was bright, 't was heavenly, but 'tis past - Oh, ever thus from childhood's hour - I've seen my fondest hopes decay. - I never nursed a tree or flower, - But 't was the first to fade away; - I never nursed a dear gazelle - To glad me with its soft black eye, - But when it came to know me well. - And love me, it was sure to die. - --Moore. - - -On the Monday morning Benny was brought before the magistrates, charged -with stealing five pounds from his master's office. He was almost ready -to faint when placed in the dock; but, conscious of his own innocence, -he gathered up his courage, and answered fearlessly the questions that -were addressed to him. - -Inspector Sharp gave the particulars of the case, adding that though -the money had not been found on the prisoner, or indeed anywhere else, -yet he had no doubt that the lad had accomplices to whom he had given -the missing property. - -Benny denied most emphatically that he had seen the money: he admitted -that appearances were against him. "But, oh," he said, looking at the -presiding magistrate, his eyes swimming with tears, "I'm not a thief, -sir, if you'll on'y believe it; I'm not, really." - -Benny's honest face and simple straightforward answers evidently made -in his favour; but as Mr. Lawrence had not appeared against him, he was -remanded until the following day, so he was removed once more to his -cell. - -Perks's case was not tried that day, so once more Benny had him for a -companion. - -During most of the evening Perks sat in one corner, with his face in his -hands, and his elbows on his knees, without either speaking or moving. -Benny took the opposite corner, glad for once that he had a chance of -being quiet. He wondered what would be done to him, whether he would be -sent to prison or set at liberty. He felt that he did not care much what -happened, for to be penned up in prison, he thought, could not be much -worse than to go back in disgrace to the old life of selling matches in -the street. - -Above the grated window the little patch of blue began to fade as the -day waned and darkened into night. Then a solitary star appeared, and -looked down with kindly eye into the dreary cell. Benny watched the star -twinkling so far above him, and wondered what it could be. Was it one of -God's eyes, or the eye of one of His angels? Could it be his Nelly that -was looking at him? Or were the stars only holes in the floor of heaven -to let the glory through? - -He could not tell, but somehow that kindly star looking in upon him -seemed to comfort his heart; and he felt that though the world buffeted -him, and would not give him a chance of getting on, yet he was not -forgotten of God. - -Then his thoughts turned to Perks. Was God watching him also? for the -star was not visible from the corner where he crouched. Why was he so -quiet? Was he sorry for what he had done, or was he ill? - -Benny was glad to be quiet; and yet somehow as the darkness deepened he -felt lonesome, and wondered what had come to the silent figure in the -corner. It was so unusual for Perks to be quiet so long. He listened for -a moment, but all was still. And still the minutes dragged away, and the -silence became oppressive. - -"Perks!" said Benny, unable longer to keep quiet; and his voice awoke -the sleeping echoes of the cell, and made it sound hollow as a tomb. - -But the echoes were his only answer. - -"Perks!" in a louder voice. - -Still there was silence, and Benny began to get frightened. Was he dead? -he wondered. How awful it would be to be in that cell all night alone -with a dead body! - -"Perks, do speak!" in a tone of agony. - -And he listened for an answer, while the perspiration stood in great -drops upon his forehead. But still only silence. He could hear the -thumping of his own heart distinctly, and he became hot and cold by -turns with fright. - -At length he thought he heard a noise coming from the corner where he -felt sure Perks was crouched dead. It sounded like suppressed laughter. -What could it mean? He dared not move from his corner. Was it Satan come -to carry away Perks? for he was very wicked, he knew. - -It had got too dark now to see anything distinctly; but there was a -shuffling noise on the floor. Horrors! it was coming across the cell -towards him. What was it? He could see some unshapely thing moving. -Now it was drawing itself up to its full height. Benny nearly shrieked -out in an agony of terror. Then it flashed across his mind in a -moment--Perks was playing him another of his tricks. - -Waiting until Perks was near enough, he dealt him a blow straight from -the shoulder that sent him sprawling to the other end of the cell. - -"Oh, lor a massy!" he shouted, "if that ain't a stinger!" - -"Serves you right," said Benny. - -"Lor, but didn't I give you a scarin', just! I never did injoy a thing -as much in my life; but, oh, lor! I nearly busted once or twice wi' -larfin'." - -"I think I gived you a scarin' too," retorted Benny. - -"Well, I confess it comed raather sudden like; so that's one to you, -Ben. I'll give you yer due." - -"I've a good mind to pound you to a jelly," said Benny. "Yer always on -with yer tricks." - -"Well, I didn't 'tend to scare yer, Ben, for I wur bissy medertatin' on -a little plan I 'as in my yed; but when yer spoke 'Perks!' anxious like, -the idear comed to me all in a moment. Oh, lor, weren't it a spree!" - -"I don't see no fun in it," said Benny. - -"Oh, lor, yer don't?" and Perks laughed again. "But I say, Ben, I wants -yer 'elp in carryin' out as purty a bit o' play as ever you seen." - -"Is it what you've been thinking about all the evenin'?" - -"Ay, lad, it's the most butifullest idear that wur ever 'atched in this -'ere noddle; an' if you'll only 'elp me, my stars! our fortin's made." - -"You're up to no good again, I'll be bound," said Benny. - -"Well, I reckon you'll alter your mind on that score when yer 'ears the -details o' my plan," said Perks, coming closer to Benny's side. - -"Well, what is it?" - -"I must whisper it," said Perks, "though I dunna thinks any bobbies is -around listenin' at this time o' night, but it's allers best to be on -the safe side." - -"I don't want to 'ear it," said Benny, "if it's some'at you must -whisper. It's no good, that I'm sartin of." - -"Don't be a ninny, Ben. Just listen." - -And Perks confided to Ben a plan of getting into the house of an old man -who kept a little shop, and lived all alone, and who kept all his money -locked up in a little cupboard in the room behind the shop. - -"How do you know he keeps his money there?" said Benny. - -"Never you mind," was the answer; "I does know it to a sartinty." - -"Where does the old man live?" - -"No. 86 ---- Street." - -"What's his name?" - -"Jerry Starcher. Ain't yer 'eard o' 'im?" - -"Ay," said Benny. - -"Then you'll 'elp?" said Perks, eagerly. - -"Ay," said Benny, "but not in the way you thinks." - -"What does yer mean?" - -"I mean, if I git out of this place, I'll put the old man on his guard." - -"What, an' split on me?" - -"No, I'll not mention names." - -"Then I 'opes ye'll be sent to a 'formatory an' kep' there for the next -five year." - -"Do you? Why?" - -"'Cause yer a fool, Ben Bates." - -"How so?" - -"'Cause ye are, I say." - -"Well, your saying so don't make it so, anyhow," retorted Benny: - -"Don't it, though? But look 'ere: ye're 'ere for stealin', and I can -tell yer from 'sperience, that a gent as takes up the perfession is -worse nor a fool to give it up agin 'cause he 'appens to get nabbed." - -"But I'm not here for stealin'," said Benny, colouring. - -"Ye're not, eh?" said Perks, laughing till the tears ran down his face. -"Well, that are the richest bit I's heard for the last month." - -"But," said Benny, with flashing eyes, "though I'm here charged with -stealing, I tell yer I'm honest." - -"Are that a fact now, Ben?" said Perks, looking serious. - -"It is," replied Benny; "I never took the money." - -"Well, so much the worse," said Perks. - -"How's that?" - -"Cause yer might as well be a thief, hout an' hout, as be charged wi' -bein' one. I tell 'e there's no chance for yer; the bobbies'll 'ave -their eyes on yer wherever yer be; and if yer gits a sitivation they'll -come along an' say to yer guv'nor, 'Yon's a jail-bird, yer'd better 'ave -yer eye on 'im;' then ye'll 'ave to walk it somewheres else, an' it'll -be the same everywheres." - -"How do you know that?" said Benny. - -"'Cause I's 'sperienced it," was the reply. "I's older 'n you, though -you's biggest; but I reckons as I knows most, an' it's true what I say. -Why, bless yer, the first time I ever nabbed I got a month, an' I wor -so horful frightened, that I vowed if ever I got out I'd be honest, -an' never get in no more; but, bless yer, it wur no go. The bobbies -told each other who I wur, an' they was always a-watching me. I got a -sitivation once, a honcommon good 'un too; but, oh, lor, the next day -a bobby says to the guv'nor, says he, 'Yon's a jail-bird, you'd better -keep yer eye on 'im;' an' you may guess I'd to walk in quick sticks. -I made two or three tries arter, but it wur no go. As soon as hever a -bobbie came near I'd to be off like greased lightnin', an' you'll find -out what I say. If yer not a thief now, ye'll 'ave to come to it. I tell -yer there's no help for it." - -"But I tell you I'll _not_ come to it," said Benny, stoutly. - -"But I knows better," persisted Perks; "there ken be no possible chance -for yer. Ye're down, an' the world'll keep 'e down, though yer try ever -so." - -Benny looked thoughtful, for he had a suspicion that a good deal that -Perks said was true. He was down, and he feared there was very little, -if any, chance of his getting up again. He had proved by experience that -the world was hard upon poor lads, and he knew it would be doubly hard -upon him now that his character was gone. Yet he felt that he could not -become a thief. He would sooner die, and he told Perks so. - -But Perks only laughed at the idea. - -"You'll find that dyin' ain't so precious easy, my lad," he said in a -patronizing tone of voice. And Benny felt that very likely Perks' words -were true in relation to that matter, and so he was silent. - -"You'd better come partner 'long wi' me," said Perks, in a tone of voice -that was intended to be encouraging. - -"No," said Benny. "I'll help you if you'll try to be honest; for look -here, Perks: there's another life besides this, an' if we're not good we -shall go to the bad place when we die, for only good people can go to -heaven. An' I want to go to the good place, for little Nell is there; -an' I want to see her again, for she was all I had to love in the world, -an' oh! it 'ud grieve her so if I were to be a thief, an' grieve the -good Lord who died for us all. No, Perks, little Nell begged me afore -she died to be good, an' she said the Lord 'ud provide, an' I means to -be good. Won't you try to be good too, Perks? I'm sure it 'ud be better." - -"No," said Perks: "folks 'as druv' me to what I is. I tried to be -honest once, an' they wouldn't let me, an' so I intends to stick to the -perfession now, for I likes it; an' ye'll come to it yet." - -"I'd rather die," said Benny solemnly. - -"Humbug!" snarled Perks. "But I'll say this afore I go to sleep, for -I's gettin' des'pert sleepy, if ye'll join me in the perfession I'll be -a frien' to yer, an' put yer up to all the tricks, an' forgive yer for -that hidin' yer give me. But if," and he brought out the words slowly, -"ye'll 'sist on bein' a fool, I'll pay off old scores yet, an' I'll -plague yer worse nor ever I's done yet; so I give yer fair warnin'. Now -for the land o' nod." - -Neither of them spoke again after that, and soon after they were both -locked in the arms of kindly sleep. - -The following morning Benny was again brought before the magistrates, -but nothing new was brought forward in evidence. Mr. Lawrence, however, -stated that he did not wish to prosecute, or in any way punish the lad. -And as there was no positive evidence that Benny had taken the money, -he was dismissed. It was evident, however, that the general belief was -that he was guilty; but as the evidence was only presumptive, and this -being his first appearance before them, he was given the benefit of the -doubt, and set at liberty, with a caution that if he came before them -again he would not get off so easily. - -His week's wages that Mr. Lawrence had paid him was restored to him on -leaving the court, and once more he found himself a homeless orphan on -the streets of Liverpool. - -Perks did not fare so well. He was an old and evidently a hardened -offender. The case was also proved against him, and he was sentenced to -be kept in prison for three calendar months. Perks heard the sentence -unmoved. He liked liberty best, it is true, but the only thing that -grieved him was that it was summer-time. If it had been winter, he would -not have cared a straw; but as it was he was determined to make the best -of it, and get as much enjoyment out of it as he possibly could. - -So Perks and Benny drifted apart, and Benny wondered if they would ever -meet again. Life before him lay dark and cheerless. He seemed to have -drifted away from everything: no friend was left to him in all the -world. There were granny and Joe, but he could not see them, for he felt -that if a shade of suspicion crept into their manner, it would break -his heart. No, he would keep away. Then there was Mr. Lawrence; he could -expect nothing further from him. He believed him to be a thief, of that -there could be no doubt, and so doubtless did Morgan and all the other -clerks. And then there was little Eva, the angel that had brightened -his life for six brief months, and whose bright shilling nothing could -induce him to part with. Did she believe him guilty too? Of course she -did. His guilt must seem so clear to every one of them. And so he was -alone in the world, without a friend to help, unless God would help him; -but of that he did not feel quite sure. Sometimes he thought that the -Lord would surely provide, but at other times he doubted. - -He was at liberty, it was true, and ought he not to be thankful -for that? he asked himself; but alas! his innocence had not been -established. Young as he was, he felt the force of that. And he felt it -terribly hard that all--all! even his little angel--believed him to be a -thief. - -Ah! he did not know how sore was Eva Lawrence's little heart, and how -she persisted to her father that Benny was innocent, and pleaded with -him, but pleaded in vain, for him to take back the poor boy and give him -another chance. - -And night after night she cried herself to sleep, as she thought of the -little orphan sent adrift on life's treacherous ocean, and wondered what -the end would be. And when one day she tried to sing "Love at Home," -the words almost choked her, for the pleading, suffering face of the -homeless child came up before her, and looked at her with hungry wistful -eyes, as if asking for sympathy and help. - -But children soon forget their griefs, and as the days wore away and -lengthened into weeks, Benny was almost forgotten, till one day a -circumstance occurred which made him again the talk of the Lawrence -household. What that circumstance was shall be told in its proper place -in the unfolding of this story of Benny's life. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - -Adrift. - - A fathomless sea is rolling - O'er the wreck of the bravest bark; - And my pain-muffled heart is tolling - Its dumb peal down in the dark. - - The waves of a mighty sorrow - Have 'whelmed the pearl of my life; - And there cometh to me no morrow, - To solace this desolate strife. - - Gone are the last faint flashes, - Set is the sun of my years; - And over a few poor ashes - I sit in my darkness and tears. - --Gerald Massey. - - -Had any of our readers been passing the front of St. George's Hall -during the afternoon of the day on which Benny was acquitted, they might -have seen our hero sitting on one of the many steps, with his face -buried in his hands and his elbows resting on his knees. Hour after hour -he sat unmolested, for Perks was no longer at liberty to tease him, and -the police did not notice him. - -Benny was utterly unconscious of the flight of time, for he was trying -to decide upon some course of action by which he could honestly earn his -daily bread. He felt that he was beginning life again, and beginning it -under tremendous disadvantages. He knew that there was a great deal of -truth in what Perks had said to him. All who knew him would mistrust -him, and even should he succeed in getting employment under those -who did not know him, they might soon get to know, and then he would -be dismissed. He was getting too big to be a match boy. He did not -understand blacking shoes, and yet to remain idle meant starvation. - -"I'm wuss nor a chap buried," he said to himself, thrusting his hands -into his trousers pockets and staring around him. "I've heerd of chaps -beginnin' at the bottom, but lor a massy! I'm beginnin' furder down than -that by a long chalk. I'm six feet under ground, an' I'll 'ave to bore a -hole up inter the daylight, or die, I 'specks." - -As the afternoon wore away he became conscious of a feeling of hunger. -Fortunately, he had sufficient money to keep him from starving for a -day or two. He counted over the coins very carefully, and laid aside -eighteenpence as being due to granny, and which he resolved should be -paid. - -"I'll begin honest," he said to himself, "an' I'll keep on at it too, or -go to heaven to little Nell." - -So after purchasing two sheets of paper and two envelopes, he made -his way to a small eating-house and ordered some bread and cheese. He -was not long in devouring his very simple meal, and then with a lead -pencil commenced his first attempt at letter-writing. The first letter -contained only a few words of warning to Jerry Starcher. The second -letter was longer, and was addressed to granny. This letter cost Benny -a tremendous effort, for, fearing that granny would not be able to read -writing, he had, to use his own words, "to print it," and he found it to -be a rather slow process. The letter was to the following effect:-- - -"Deer Grany,--I ken never come 'ome no more. You's heerd what's took -plaas, but I nevver stole the money. I is 'onest, for shure I dunno wat -I'll do or whair I'll go; but I meen to be 'onest or die. I wish I wur -ded. I is very, very, very 'bliged for ole you's don for me an' littel -Nel: tel Joe I is 'bliged to 'im to. P'r'aps I'll never see 'e no more, -p'r'aps I'll go to littel Nel soon. I 'ope I may, I's very lon-ly. I put -with this the money I ow's. Good nite.--Benny." - -More than one scalding tear fell upon the letter while he wrote, for the -tears would come despite his efforts to keep them back. Life seemed to -him such an utter desolation, and hope had almost died out of his heart. - -When he had carefully folded and sealed the letters, he went out again -on the steps in the shadow of the great Hall, and waited for the -darkness. All around him the people hurried to and fro. But had he been -in the heart of Africa he could not have felt more utterly forsaken and -alone. - -When at length the darkness crept over the busy town, he hurried away to -Tempest Court, passing Jerry Starcher's, and pushing the letter under -his door on the way. His heart beat very fast when he reached granny's -door. He was strongly tempted to knock for admittance, for something -told him that granny would not turn him away, but he struggled against -the feeling. Welcome as would have been his little bed under the stairs, -and glad as he would have been for a hiding-place from the world's -scorn, yet he felt he would rather not see granny and Joe again while -this stain darkened his name. - -Within the cottage silence and darkness reigned, for granny had retired -early to rest--not without a prayer, though, that the boy she was -learning to love might see the error of his ways, truly repent of his -sin, and lead a new life. For Joe had told her what had befallen Benny, -and furthermore had extracted from her the promise that if he should -ever seek again the shelter of her home, for his little sister's sake -and for the sake of the Saviour, she would not turn him away, but would -help him to begin a better life. - -Benny listened for awhile at the key-hole, then cautiously pushing the -letter under the door, he hurried away into the darkness. He had no idea -where he would spend the night, nor did he concern himself about the -direction he was taking; he only felt that he must go somewhere. So on -he went in a northerly direction, passing street after street, till, -footsore and weary, he stumbled into a dark corner where he thought -nobody would notice him, and soon fell fast asleep. - -Why could not the policeman who passed a few minutes later, and spied -the little crouching figure, have permitted the child to sleep on? He -was doing no harm, and the policeman might have known that had the boy a -home to go to he would not have been found sleeping in the street. - -I suppose he thought nothing about the matter, for he seized Benny by -the collar and lifted him off the ground, and after shaking him as a -terrier might shake a rat, he ordered him to move on, giving emphasis to -his words by a cruel kick, which made Benny grind his teeth with pain, -and hurry limping down the street. - -He had not gone far before a clock near him began to strike slowly the -hour of midnight. At the first stroke of the bell Benny started, and -looked carefully around him. Clang went the second stroke. - -"It must be the same," he muttered to himself. - -The third stroke made him certain. - -He was near Addler's Hall without knowing it. The tone of the church -clock was as familiar to him as the voice of his father. Scores of times -during the years of his childhood he had listened to that clang, waking -up the midnight silence when all the others were asleep. - -"I wonder if father's comed home yet?" he said to himself; "I'll go and -see, anyhow." - -Bowker's Row was as silent as the grave, and, as usual, wrapped in -darkness. But the darkness was no difficulty to Benny, as he made his -way cautiously up the dingy street and into the dingier court that was -once his home. It seemed very strange to him that he should be there -alone in the silent night, and that Nelly should be alone in her little -grave miles away from where he stood. - -What a lot had been crowded into his lonely life since last he stood in -Addler's Hall, holding his little sister by the hand! And he wondered -if ever Nelly left her beautiful home in the sky to pay a visit to the -dreary haunts of her childhood. - -Before him the door of his old home stood open--the night was not so -dark but he could see that--and he could see also that the place wore -even a more forsaken appearance than in former days. - -Pausing for a moment on the threshold, he plunged into the darkness, -then stood still in the middle of the room and listened; but no sound of -breathing or noise of any kind broke the oppressive stillness. - -He soon discovered also that the house was destitute of furniture; a few -shavings under the stairs alone remained. - -"The bobbies'll not find me 'ere, I reckon," he said to himself, "though -Nelly may." - -And he stretched himself on the shavings in the corner where he and his -little sister used to sleep in the days that had gone for ever. - -It seemed so strange to be there again, and to be there in sorrow and -disgrace; and once or twice he stretched out his hand in the darkness as -if expecting to find his little sister by his side. Then, as the memory -of his loss and the loneliness of his life crept over him, he gave vent -to his feelings in a flood of tears. By-and-bye he grew calm, and soon -after fell asleep; and in happy dreams, in which he wandered with Nelly -through Eastham Woods, he forgot all his trouble and care. - -When he awoke the next morning the court was alive and stirring, and -Bowker's Row was crowded with ill-fed, ragged, and dirty children: some -were doing their best to climb the lamp-posts, some were practising -cart-wheel revolutions, some were squatted idly on the pavement, and -others were playing with the refuse in the street. - -On Benny making his appearance, he was greeted with a shout and a howl -that made the street echo again, and summoned the elders to the doorways -to see what had happened. - -It was very evident that the older children had recognized him, while -many a familiar face appeared at door and window. This Benny thought was -very unfortunate, for he was in no mood to be questioned or to brook -delay. So he darted down the street as if on a race for life, knocking -over several of the older lads who tried to check his progress. - -For some distance he was followed by a whole tribe of noisy urchins, who -shouted at the top of their voices. But Benny was too fleet-footed for -them, and soon Bowker's Row and its noisy denizens were left far behind. - -Benny's first thought now was to secure a substantial breakfast, which -was by no means a difficult matter. That done, he made his way toward -the docks, in the hope that he might get employment of some kind. But to -a little friendless lad, without character or recommendation, employment -was not so easily obtained. Most of those whom he addressed did not -condescend to notice his question in any way. A few asked him what he -could do, and when he replied "Anything," the invariable answer was, -"That means nothing," and he was sent about his business. In fact, there -seemed to be no work in the whole line of docks that a child of his age -was capable of doing. And night found him worn out with fatigue, and -with a sadly lightened pocket. - -However, he kept up his heart as well as he could, and sought rest and -sleep in a damp cellar upon some dirty straw, which for the payment -of twopence he shared with a dozen other lads, who appeared to be as -friendless as himself. That night he slept the sleep of the innocent and -weary, and awoke next morning, strengthened and refreshed, to find that -all his companions had left and that his pockets were empty! - -This was a terrible blow to Benny; but when he discovered that his -"lucky shilling" was still safe in the lining of his waistcoat, he dried -his tears, and went bravely out, hungry as he was, to battle with an -unfriendly world. - -Before sunset, however, he had nearly lost heart, for he had been unable -to earn a single penny, and he was almost faint with hunger. So in -sheer desperation he sought his old place on the landing-stage, in the -hope that he might have the chance of carrying some one's portmanteau, -and in that way earn his supper; but everyone to whom he offered his -services repulsed him, and for the first time he wondered whether it -would be wrong to throw himself into the river, and whether that would -not be the easiest way out of his trouble. Somehow he could not help -thinking that it would be less wicked for him to do that than to steal. -He could not starve; drowning he was sure would be a much less painful -death; and, as far as he could see, it had really come to this, that he -must either steal or die. But he would not steal, he had made up his -mind to that. Had he not promised Nelly that he would be honest? And had -not Joe and granny and his Sunday-school teacher told him what a wicked -thing it was to be a thief? No; he had settled that matter, and when he -had settled a thing in his own mind he was not to be moved. The question -then was, what was the easiest kind of death? The river looked beautiful -this summer evening, and he thought it must be very nice to rest beneath -its cool sparkling waters after the hot glare of the streets. Should he -plunge in now, or should he wait a little longer? He had been without -food for twenty-four hours. He had no place to sleep, no means of -getting supper. - -Then suddenly he remembered his "lucky shilling." - -"Queer!" he mused. "The Lord sent His angel wi' this bob, an' I've never -wanted it till now, an' now I does want it, I've got it. I'm floored -again. Nelly said the Lord 'ud provide, and He do." And he took out the -bright shilling and looked at it fondly. - -Just then he heard a countryman inquiring the way to Lime Street -Station, of a man who stood near him. - -"Here's a chance," he thought; and, stepping forward, he said, "I'll -show you the way, sir, if yer likes." - -"Dost thee know th' way thysel', lad?" inquired the man. - -"I should think I do," said Benny, drawing himself up to his full height. - -"Lead the way, then," said the farmer; and Benny trotted on before him, -feeling sure that he was safe now for a good supper without spending his -shilling. - -"Thankee," said the farmer, on their arrival at the station; "thee'rt a -sharp lad, an' no mistake." - -And he smiled benevolently, and hurried away to the booking-office, -leaving our hero staring after him in utter bewilderment. - -Benny felt that he would have liked to have had his revenge on that man -then and there. - -"Golly," he said, "don't I feel savage, just!" - -Just then a gentleman pushed against him, carrying a bulky leathern bag. - -"Carry yer bag, sir?" said Benny in an instant; and, without a word, the -bag was hoisted on his shoulder, and once more Benny was on the trot. - -By the time he had reached the top of Brownlow Hill he was almost -exhausted, and without a word the man (gentleman, I suppose he thought -himself) took the bag from his shoulder and handed him a penny in -payment for his services. - -When will men, and professedly Christian men, learn the great though -simple lesson--to do unto others as they would that others should do -unto them? - -A benevolent baker, moved to pity by the sight of Benny's suffering -face, gave him a twopenny loaf for his penny, with a smile and a kindly -word into the bargain, and Benny went out into the darkening street with -a lighter heart than he had felt for the day. - -The evening was oppressively warm, and having no inclination to go back -again into the dingy town, where policemen were plentiful, Benny made -his way in an easterly direction, hoping that he might find a dark -corner somewhere where he might sleep undisturbed. - -After a while he found himself in the neighbourhood of the cemetery -where Nelly was buried. He was not superstitious, so without a moment's -hesitation he climbed over the wall, and, getting dark as it was, he -easily found his sister's grave; and, stretching himself on the damp -grass, with his head upon the little mound under which his Nelly slept -in peace, he tried to think--to form some plan for the future. - -Above him twinkled the silent stars. Around him slept the silent dead. -Everything was silent; not a leaf stirred, not even a blade of grass; -and yielding to the silent influence of the hour, he fell asleep, -though not before he had resolved that he would return to his old haunts -no more, but would commence his new life as far away from Liverpool as -he could possibly get. - -Next morning he was up with the lark, and kissing the sod above his -sister's face, he hurried away. At noon Liverpool was several miles -behind him, and before him--what? - -Under the shadow of a tree by the roadside he rested for an hour during -the heat of the day, and in a clear stream that babbled by he slaked -his thirst and washed the dust from his hands and face, then hurried on -again. - -The country looked very beautiful bathed in the summer's sunshine, but -he was in no mood to enjoy it. The birds sang their glad songs in the -trees, but to him they seemed only to mock his sorrow. In the fields -he saw the sleek cattle grazing as he passed, or lying in the sunshine -contentedly chewing their cud, while he was footsore, hungry, and sad, -and he wondered what the end of it all would be. - -As the afternoon wore away he found himself hedged in with plantations -on every side, and not a single human habitation in sight. - -For awhile he dragged himself along with fast failing courage and -strength; then he gave up in despair. - -"It's no go," he said; "I ken go no furder." - -His feet were hot and blistered with his long tramp over the hard and -dusty road. His head ached from the fierce heat that had been beating -down on him all the day, his strength was all but gone, for he had -tasted no food since the previous evening. - -"I dunno how the Lord's goin' to do it," he said, the tears starting in -his eyes. "Nelly said as how the Lord 'ud provide, an' so did the angel -that gived me the bob; but I dunna see how. I wonder if He's goin' to -take me to heaven? P'r'aps that's the way He's goin' to do it, an' then -I'll never be 'ungry no more." - -Climbing on a gate, he looked around him, but no house was anywhere -visible. - -"It's all up, I reckon," he said sadly, getting down on the inside and -making his way through the tangled undergrowth into the heart of the -plantation. "I'll find a snug place 'ere somewheres, where I ken wait -till the Lord comes. I wonder if He'll be long?" - -He had not gone far before he found a place that suited him. A luxuriant -patch of ferns growing out of a carpet of moss, bordered on every side -with tall brushwood, while overhead giant fir-trees sighed and moaned in -the evening breeze, made a perfect arbour of quiet and repose. Pressing -down the yielding ferns, he had soon a bed soft as he could desire, -while a mossy bank made a pillow grateful as a kiss of love to his -aching head and burning cheek. - -"I'll be comfortable 'ere till the Lord comes," he said, stretching out -his weary limbs. "I wonder if He'll bring Nelly wi' Him?" - -Then he closed his eyes and waited. Above him the fir-branches swayed -gently in the soft evening breeze, and from far away came the subdued -plash of falling water. It was very strange and solemn, but soothing and -restful withal. - -The pangs of hunger abated, too, after he had rested awhile, and his -head ceased to ache, while the wind in the trees sounded like an evening -lullaby, and brought back to him a vague and misty recollection of his -mother rocking him to sleep on her lap, in the years long, long ago. - -Then the music seemed to come from farther and farther away, till it -ceased altogether, and once more Benny slept. And there in the solemn -wood we will leave him for awhile to the mercy and care that are -infinite. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - -The Border Land. - - For since Thy hand hath led me here, - And I have seen the border land,-- - Seen the dark river flowing near, - Stood on its bank as now I stand,-- - There has been nothing to alarm - My trembling soul; why should I fear? - For since encircled by Thy arm, - I never felt Thee half so near. - - -Joe Wrag was in great trouble when he heard of Benny's misfortune. -Granny was the first to make him acquainted with the fact that something -was wrong. Benny had been in the habit of returning earlier on a -Saturday evening since he had been with Mr. Lawrence than on any other -day of the week, and when that evening wore away and deepened into -night, and Benny did not come, granny got very much concerned, fearing -some accident had befallen him; and so she remained rocking herself in -her chair, and listening in vain for his footfall all through the night. -And when morning came she hurried away, old as she was, to Joe's house, -in the hope that he would be able to give her some information as to -Benny's whereabouts. - -Joe was thunderstruck at sight of Betty so early on a Sunday morning, -and her eager question, "Dost a' knaw where the boy is, Joe?" did not -help to mend matters. For a few moments Joe's power of utterance seemed -to have left him altogether, then he stammered forth-- - -"Ain't he hum, Betty?" - -"Nae, Joe; I's never seen 'im sin yester morn!" - -Joe looked thoughtful, for he had no reply to this, and Betty sat down -in a chair, evidently exhausted. - -After a while Betty got up to go. "I mun be a-goin'," she said, "he may -a-got hum by now." - -Towards evening Joe called at Tempest Court, but nothing had been heard -of the wanderer. The night that followed was one of the longest Joe had -ever known, and as soon as he was released from his watch in the morning -he went at once to Mr. Lawrence's office. - -"Is the maaster in?" he said, addressing one of the clerks. - -"No, my good man," was the reply; "he will not be down for an hour yet. -Could you call again?" - -"Mebbe you'll do as weel," said Joe, scratching his head. "Can yer tell -me wot's become o' the boy Benny?" - -"Oh, yes," said the clerk, smiling complacently, "he's where he ought to -have been long ago." - -"Where's that?" said Joe. - -"In prison, sir!" - -"In prison?" in a tone of bewilderment. - -"Even so," with a bland smile. - -"I can't say as 'ow I hunderstand," Joe stammered out. - -"Very likely," said the clerk, "so I will inform you that Mr. Lawrence, -having his suspicions aroused, placed a five-pound note on his desk, and -then set a watch----" - -"Well?" said Joe, eager yet fearing to hear the rest. - -"Well," continued the clerk, "this young friend of yours, who seems to -have been an old hand at the work, was seen coolly to take the money. -But when charged with the theft, a few minutes after, he stoutly denied -all knowledge of the circumstance; but Mr. Lawrence was determined to -stand no nonsense, and had him at once marched off to the lock-up." - -For a moment Joe looked at the clerk in silence, then, without a word, -walked out of the office. When he told granny, she was at first -indignant. "To think that she, a honest woman, 'ad been a-'arbouring a -thief all these months!" But Joe soon talked her into a better frame of -mind, and it was then that she promised him that if the prodigal ever -came back again she would not turn him away. - -When Joe read in the paper on Wednesday morning that Benny was -acquitted, his delight knew no bounds. He accepted the fact as almost -proof positive that Benny was innocent, and went at once to tell granny -the news. - -He found the old woman crying over Benny's letter, with the -eighteenpence lying in her lap. When Joe came in she handed him the -letter without a word. Joe blew his nose violently several times during -its perusal, then laid it down on the table, and walked to the door to -hide his emotion. It was several moments before he could command himself -sufficiently to speak, then he blurted out-- - -"The poor parsecuted bairn mun be found somehow, Betty, an' 'ere's off -to sairch. Good mornin', Betty." - -And before the old woman could reply he was gone. - -During the next three days Joe had but little sleep. He tramped the town -in every direction, in the hope that he might glean some tidings of the -poor lost lad; but his labour was in vain, and each evening when he -returned to his hut it was with a sadly diminished hope of ever finding -the boy again. - -On the evening that Benny, hungry and forsaken, lay down in the wood to -sleep, Joe felt his heart drawn out in prayer in such a manner as he -had never before experienced. Nearly the whole of the night he spent -upon his knees. Now and then he got up and walked out into the silent -street, and gazed for a few moments up into the starlit sky. Then he -would return to his hut again and pray more fervently than ever. He had -returned from his search that evening utterly cast down, feeling that -the only resource left to him was prayer. He knew not whether the boy -was living or dead. He could hardly think the latter; and yet if he were -alive, who could tell what he was suffering? Who but God? To God then he -would go and plead for the outcast boy, and who should tell whether God -might not regard his prayer and send help and deliverance to the child? -Thus hour after hour he prayed on, and when the light of the morning -crept up into the eastern sky, he rose from his knees comforted. - -Were Joe Wrag's prayers answered? No doubt they were. Not in the way, -perhaps, that Joe would have liked best, and yet in the best way for all -that. God does not always give us in answer to our prayers what _we_ -think best, but what _He_ thinks best. To weary, worn-out Benny God gave -sleep, deep, dreamless, and refreshing, and in the morning he awoke -to the song of birds and to the rustle of a thousand leaves. The music -sounded very sweet to Benny's ears, but it was not the music of heaven, -as he had hoped it would be. He had waited there in the solemn wood for -the coming of the Lord, but He had not come. Heaven seemed farther away -from him than ever this morning, and earth was painfully real. He felt -himself too weak to stir at first, so he lay still, occasionally opening -his eyes to watch the slanting sunbeams play among the tangled foliage, -and light up the dewdrops that trembled on every leaf. - -His head was hot and heavy, and his eyes ached when he kept them open -long, and the pangs of hunger were coming on again. What should he do? -He lay for a long time trying to think, but his thoughts whirled and -twisted like snowflakes in a storm. - -"P'raps I kin get on a little furder if I tries," he said to himself at -length, and suiting the action to the words, he rose from his ferny bed -and staggered out of the wood. He had scarcely strength left to get over -the gate, but he managed it at length, and then fell down exhausted by -the roadside. - -How long he lay there he never knew; but he was aroused at length by the -lumbering of some kind of vehicle coming towards him along the road, and -by the shrill whistling of the driver. - -Nearer and nearer came the vehicle, and then stopped just opposite him. -Benny looked up and saw a shock-headed, overgrown lad, standing in what -seemed an empty cart, staring at him with a look of wonder in his great -round eyes. - -Benny had reached a stage of exhaustion which made him indifferent to -almost everything, so he only blinked at the boy, and then dropped his -head again on the grass. - -"Art a tired?" said the boy at length. - -"Ay," said Benny, without opening his eyes. - -"Wilt a 'ave a lift?" - -"What's a lift?" - -"A ride, then, if it's properer." - -"Ay, I'll ride; but 'ow's I to get in?" - -"Oh, aisy 'nough," said young Giles, jumping out of the cart and lifting -Benny in as if he had been an infant. - -"Golly," said Benny, coming out with his once favourite expression, -"you're mighty strong!" - -"Strong? You should see me lift a bag o' corn! Now, Dobbin," to the -horse. "Gee, meth-a-way," and the horse moved on at what seemed a -stereotyped pace. - -"'Ave a turmut?" said the boy at length. - -"What's a turmut?" - -"Lor, now," laughed the boy, "you must be green not to know what a -turmut is." And he untied the mouth of one of several bags lying at -the bottom of the cart, and took out two, and by the aid of a large -clasp-knife had both peeled in a "jiffey." - -Putting his teeth into one, he handed the other to Benny, who readily -followed his example, and thought he had never tasted anything more -delicious. - -By the time our hero had finished his turnip they had reached a small -village, and Benny was able to get out of the cart unaided. Here were -houses at last. Perhaps he might get work here; he would try, at any -rate. And try he did; but it was discouraging work. - -At many of the houses the door was slammed in his face in answer to his -inquiry. At a few places the person addressed condescended to ask Benny -where he came from, and when he replied "from Liverpool," he was told to -be off about his business, as "they wanted no thieves nor pickpockets in -their employ." - -One kind-looking old gentleman asked Benny what he could do. - -"Anything a'most," was the prompt reply. - -"You're too clever by a long way," laughed the old man; "but let's -perticlerize a bit. Can you spud thistles?" - -Benny looked bewildered. He knew nothing about "spuds" or "thistles," so -he shook his head in reply. - -"Canst a whet a scythe?" - -Another shake of the head. - -"Take out arter the mowers?" - -"No." - -"Dibbel tates?" - -"I don't know." - -"Humph. Canst a milk?" - -"I ken drink it, if that's wot you mean," said Benny. - -"Ha! ha! Mary," raising his voice, "fotch the lad a mug o' milk." And in -a few moments a stout red-armed girl brought Benny a pint mug, brimful -of rich new milk. - -"Ay, ay," said the old man, "I see thee canst do thy part in that -direction weel eno'. Have another?" - -"No, thank you." - -"Humph. I fear thee'rt no 'count in the country, lad." - -"But I could larn," said Benny. - -"Yes, yes, that's true; thee'rt a sharp boy. I shouldn't wonder if thee -couldn't get a job at t' next village." - -"How far?" said Benny. - -"Short o' two mile, I should say." - -"Thank you." And once more Benny set off on the tramp. It was scarcely -noon, and the day was melting hot. Outside the village the sun's rays -beat down pitilessly on his head, and made him feel sick and giddy. All -the trees were on the wrong side of the road, and he looked in vain for -a shady spot along the dusty highway. Still on he tramped, with fast -failing strength. A little way before him he saw a farmhouse, with trees -growing around it. "If I can only reach that," he thought, "I'll rest -awhile." Nearer and nearer, but how strangely everything was swimming -around him, and what a curious mist was gathering before his eyes! - -Ah, there is the sound of voices; a group of haymakers just inside the -gate getting their dinner in the shadow of a tree. Was help at hand? He -did not know. Gathering up all his strength, he staggered towards them, -stretched out his hand blindly, for the mist had deepened before his -eyes, then lifted his hands to his temples, as if struck with sudden -pain, reeled, and fell senseless to the ground. - -In a moment a woman raised him from the ground, and supported his head -against her knee, while the men crowded round with wondering faces. -Then Farmer Fisher came up with the question, "What's to do?" and the -haymakers stood aside, that he might see for himself. - -"The boy's dead," said the farmer, with just a little shake in his voice. - -"No," said the woman, "he's not dead, his heart beats still." - -"Go and call the missus, then, quick." - -Then one of the men started for the farmhouse. - -Mrs. Fisher was a gentle, kind-hearted woman at all times, especially -to children, and just now she was particularly so, for a month had not -elapsed since she had laid one of her own children, a boy of about -Benny's age, in the silent grave. And when she caught sight of Benny's -white suffering face, her heart went out to him instantly. - -"Take him into the house, John," she said to her husband, the tears -starting in her eyes, "and send for the doctor at once." - -So without further ado Benny was carried into the house, stripped of -his dirty and ragged attire, put into a warm bath, and then laid gently -in a clean soft bed, in a cool pleasant room. Once only he opened his -eyes, looked around him with a bewildered air, then relapsed again into -unconsciousness. - -The doctor, who arrived toward evening, pronounced it a very bad case, -ordered port wine to be poured down his throat in small quantities -during the night, and promised to call again next day. - -"Will he live?" was Mrs. Fisher's anxious question. - -"Fear not," said the doctor: "want, exposure, and I fear also sunstroke, -have done their work. Whoever the little fellow belongs to, he's had a -hard time of it, and to such death should not be unwelcome." - -During the next day Benny was conscious at brief intervals, but he lay -so perfectly still, with half-closed eyes, that they hardly knew at -times whether he was alive or dead. His face was as white as the pillow -on which he lay, and his breathing all but imperceptible. The doctor -shook his head when he came, but held out no hope of recovery. - -So that summer Sabbath passed away, and Monday came and went, and -Tuesday followed in the track, and Wednesday dawned, and still Benny's -life trembled in the balance. The doctor said there was no perceptible -increase of strength, while the pulse, if anything, was weaker. Hence, -without some great change, he thought the boy would not live many hours -longer. - -Outside the birds twittered in the trees, and the songs of the haymakers -floated on the still summer air; but within, in a darkened room, little -Benny to all appearance lay dying. He had reached the border land, and -was standing on the river's brink. On the other side of the stream -was the everlasting home, where his Nelly dwelt, and where hunger and -weariness and pain could never come. Why did he linger, when he wanted -so much to cross and be at rest for ever? - -He had no fear, and to the onlookers it seemed easy dying. No sigh or -moan escaped his lips; he lay as still as the dead. - -The day waned at length and darkened into night, and Mrs. Fisher and -one of the servants remained up to watch by the little invalid. It was -about midnight when they observed a change come over him. The brow -contracted as if in pain, the wasted fingers plucked at the clothes, and -the breathing became heavy and irregular. - -Mrs. Fisher ran to her husband's room and summoned him at once to -Benny's bedside. John Fisher was a kind man, and needed no second -bidding. With gentle hand he wiped away the big drops that were -gathering on the little sufferer's brow; then turning to his wife, he -said, - -"Do you think you had better stay, love? I think he is dying." - -"No, no!" she said, "I cannot see him die." Then, after a pause, she -sobbed, "Let me know when it is over, John," and hurried from the room. - - - - -CHAPTER XX. - -Life at the Farm. - - Source of my life's refreshing springs, - Whose presence in my heart sustains me, - Thy love appoints me pleasant things, - Thy mercy orders all that pains me. - - Well may Thine own beloved, who see - In all their lot their Father's pleasure, - Bear loss of all they love, save Thee-- - Their living, everlasting treasure. - --Waring. - - -Mrs. Fisher waited anxiously in an adjoining room for the coming of her -husband to tell her that Benny was no more. She could not go back into -the sick-room, she dared not see the child die. It was only such a short -time ago she held her own dying Rob in her arms while he gasped out his -little life, and the wound in her heart was not healed yet: she fancied -it never would be. The sick child in the next room, that she had taken -to her heart, had opened it afresh, and she felt that to see the little -fellow struggling in the agonies of death would be more than her nerves -could bear. And so she waited while the moments dragged slowly along. - -"How tenaciously the child clings to life!" she said to herself as she -paced restlessly up and down the room. Still her husband came not. - -"Can he be fighting death all this while?" she said; "I hope the -little spirit will be released soon." Then she fell upon her knees and -prayed--prayed long and earnestly that, if it were the Lord's will, the -boy that had been thrown upon their care might have speedy and sweet -release from the burden of the flesh. - -It seemed long since she had left the sick-room, and still the moments -travelled slowly on. - -"It cannot be much longer," she said; then a step on the landing made -her look up anxiously, and her husband came quickly into the room. - -"Come this way, Mary," he said, without waiting for her to speak. - -"Is it all over?" she questioned, looking up into his face. - -"No, I can't understand it at all: the lad seems better, though he's -evidently wrong in his head." - -Without further remark, she went at once to the bedside, and laid her -hand gently upon his forehead. Benny opened his eyes slowly, and raised -them to her face, then tried to speak, but only a faint whisper escaped -his lips. - -"What do you say, poor boy?" said Mrs. Fisher kindly, bending down her -ear to listen. - -"May I see Nelly, please?" he whispered. - -"Who is Nelly?" she replied. - -"Nelly is my sister; may I not see her?" in the same faint whisper. - -"Where is your sister, my boy?" said Mrs. Fisher, looking a little -perplexed. - -"Nelly's in heaven," he said. "This is heaven, ain't it?" - -"No, my boy, this is not heaven," she replied. - -"Oh, I thought it wur," he said, closing his eyes with a look of pain. -And Mrs. Fisher's eyes became moist, as she saw the big tears stealing -out under the lashes, and rolling slowly down the pale wasted cheeks. - -After a while Benny fell into a sound sleep, from which he did not awake -till morning. When the doctor came next day he rubbed his hands with -glee. - -"Never had but one case before to equal it!" he said, "but it's -wonderful what children will pull through: just as you think they are -going right over the precipice, they turn round, and coolly walk back -into health." - -"Do you think he will get better?" said Mrs. Fisher. - -"More likely than not," was the reply: "the tide has turned, evidently. -He had reached the crisis when you thought he was dying last night, and -instead of kicking the beam, why, here he is ever so much better." - -From that day Benny got better. Not rapidly; no, it was a slow coming -back to health; still, he did get better. Day by day he gathered -strength, though scarcely perceptible at times. The doctor rather -wondered at this, for he expected his recovery to be much more rapid. -But the secret lay in the fact that Benny did not want to get better. -And one day, about a week after the time of which we have spoken, he -positively refused to take his medicine. - -"But it is to make you better," said Mrs. Fisher gently. - -"But I dunna want to get better," said Benny; "I wants to go to heaven." - -"But you should be willing to wait the Lord's time, Benny." - -"I's waited so long," he said fretfully, "that I's tired of waitin'." - -"But it's wrong to murmur at what is God's will, Benny." - -"Are it?" he said. "I didn't know, but I's very tired." - -"But you'll get rested after a while, if you'll be patient." - -"Ah, then," he said, with a sigh, "I mun try, I s'pose." - -But in spite of Benny's anxiety to die, health and strength came back to -him day by day, and one beautiful July Sabbath afternoon he was dressed, -for the first time, in a suit of dead Rob's clothes, and carried into -another room, and placed in an easy chair by the window, that he might -feast his eyes on the beautiful landscape that stretched out before -him. Benny submitted to the process without speaking a word, for he was -still very weak; but after he had recovered himself a little, he looked -curiously at the clothes in which he was enveloped, as if not at all -certain of his identity. - -"I reckon I's not Benny Bates," he said at length. - -"Oh, yes, you are," said Mrs. Fisher, who had been watching him with an -amused smile upon her face. - -"Then," he said, looking up, "these is not my togs." - -"No; but I think I'll give them to you, Benny." - -"Whew!" lifting his eyebrows. Then he began to search carefully all the -pockets; that done, he lifted his white scared face to Mrs. Fisher, and -said, - -"Where's the bob, please?" - -"Where's what?" - -"The shillin'." - -"What shilling?" - -"The one the angel gived me. Ain't yer seen it?" - -"No; where was it?" - -"In the linin' of my wesket." - -"Oh, then, perhaps we can find it." - -"Oh, yes, do, please; I wouldna lose that bob for a hunderd poun'." - -"A hundred pounds is a lot of money, Benny." - -"Don't care; don't you see? an angel gived it to me." - -"An angel, Benny?" - -"Ay, an angel, a real one; but if you'll find the bob, I'll tell yer all -'bout it." - -After some searching the shilling was found, and Benny, as good as his -word, told Mrs. Fisher the story connected with it. In fact, he would, -now that the ice was broken, have told that day all the story of his -life, but Mrs. Fisher insisted that it would tire him too much, and that -she would hear it some other day. - -So day after day as he sat by the window, with the soft summer breeze -fanning his brow, and with the songs of the birds in his ears, he -told the story that we have written. Told of his father's cruelty, of -Joe Wrag's friendship, and of his sister's love--told of his sorrow -and loss, his hunger and despair, and of the angel that came to him -in his hour of need--told of his success in Mr. Lawrence's office, -of his thirst for knowledge, and of the bright hopes he cherished -for the future. And he told her, too, of the charge of theft, of -his imprisonment and temptation, of his release and resolve, of his -fierce battle with hunger and want; and how, to be out of the reach of -temptation, he had wandered away into the country until, worn out with -hunger and fatigue, he lay down to die. - -And while Mrs. Fisher listened, she felt thankful that she had been able -to befriend the homeless boy. Benny was winning his way to her motherly -heart in a wonderful manner, and was helping to fill the gap caused by -the death of little Rob. And could she have had her own way, she would -have adopted him as her own, and sent him to school when he was strong -enough, with Harry and George. But Benny's independent spirit would not -hear of it. He would stay at Scout Farm if he might be permitted to earn -his own living; but if they could not find employment for him he must -go out into the great world once more, and try over again to earn, by -some means, his daily bread. So it was settled at length that he should -stay, and learn to be a farmer; and then Benny grew strong rapidly, and -ere the sunny September days passed away, he was out in the breezy -fields helping to gather in the late harvest, and trying to make himself -useful in every possible way. He was willing, nay, anxious to learn, and -the work was by no means difficult. For the first few weeks he was very -tired when evening came, but the fresh air gave him an appetite, and the -work developed his muscles, and life once more became to him a joy. - -He very soon got to know what to do without being told. He would tie up -the cattle in the evening as if he had been used to a farm all his life; -groom the horses as if he and they were old acquaintances; and feed the -calves with all the dispatch of an old hand at the work. Mr. Fisher was -delighted with him; "a handier little chap," he declared, "he had never -come across." And instead of being in the way, as Mrs. Fisher feared he -would be, he soon made himself necessary to them. - -When winter came, with its long dreary evenings, he found a new source -of pleasure, and that was a night school. It was Mrs. Fisher--to whom he -had spoken of his thirst for knowledge--that persuaded him to attend. -She knew he would not only derive pleasure, but profit. Benny was -considerably puzzled at first as to what a "night school" was like; but -he soon discovered its purpose, and night after night, through wind and -rain, he plodded along the dark country lane to the neighbouring village -of Scoutleigh, eager to improve his mind and add to his small store of -knowledge. Never had a village schoolmaster a more diligent pupil than -he, and rarely one that improved more rapidly. - -Nor did he forget in the summer that followed what he had learnt during -the winter. There were books in Mr. Fisher's house, to which he had -free access, for though on the farm he worked side by side with the -hired servants, in the house he was treated as one of the family; and -when the day's work was done, he found in his books his most congenial -companions. And so he grew in body and mind, and thanked God in his -heart for the haven he had found at last. - -Time passed quickly at Scout Farm. There was always so much to be done -that he had little time to brood over the past, or sigh over "what might -have been." Occasionally he longed for the busy life of the town he had -left, but the feeling was only momentary. On the whole he was pleased -with the life he was living, and though he saw no prospect of ever -realizing the dreams that once he cherished, yet he tried to be content. -So the weeks passed away, and lengthened into months, and the months -lengthened into years, almost unconsciously to Benny. He found himself -growing into a man almost against his will. - - * * * * * - -Six years passed away, and Benny had grown almost out of recognition. No -one would have thought that the tall, handsome young fellow that did -so large a share of the work at Scout Farm, was the pale and famished -child that dragged himself along the dusty highway six years before. He -used to laugh sometimes when reminded of the past, and say that he was -an example of what hard work, fresh air, and good food could accomplish. -Mr. Fisher was almost as proud of him as if he had been his own son, -and never seemed tired of declaring that "Ben Bates could swing a -scythe, shear a sheep, plough a furrow, build a corn-stack, or thatch a -hay-rick equal to any man for ten miles round." Nor was John Fisher the -only man that sang Benny's praises. The superintendent of the Methodist -Sunday-school at Scoutleigh averred that Benny was the most punctual, -diligent, and successful teacher he had. - -Benny always declared, however, that he learnt more than he ever taught. -Up to the time that he commenced to teach, he had looked upon religion -as stern, cold duty, and as that only; a question simply of doing or not -doing. It is true that he heard occasionally sermons on the subject of -experimental religion, but he thought it was only a way the preachers -had of expressing themselves. He had no doubt that he was a Christian. -He had been trying to be one ever since the death of his little Nell; -he said his prayers regularly, and always tried to do his duty; and -he asked himself what more could he do. Yet as he studied the New -Testament carefully week by week, in order that he might instruct his -class of boys, he became slowly conscious of the fact that feelings and -experiences were hinted at in that Book of books that he was a stranger -to. What did he know about that "peace that passeth understanding," or -of "rejoicing with joy unspeakable"? Was his life "hid with Christ in -God," and was he certain what was meant by "holding communion with God -and fellowship with Christ"? He now began to pay more attention to the -sermons that were preached, and to the hymns that were sung. One Sunday -morning he stopped singing at the verse, - - "Jesus, Thine all-victorious love - Shed in my heart abroad, - Then shall my feet no longer rove, - Rooted and fixed in God." - -"What did it mean?" he asked himself, "this love shed abroad in the -heart, inspiring the life, beautifying the character? Was religion as -much a matter of love as of duty?" He heard nothing of the lesson that -was read; but when the congregation stood up to sing again he was all -attention. Slowly the words rang out, and filled the little sanctuary, - - "Give me the faith which can remove - And sink the mountain to a plain; - Give me the child-like praying love - Which longs to build Thy house again; - Thy love, let it my heart o'erpower, - And all my simple soul devour. - - "Enlarge, inflame, and fill my heart - With boundless charity divine! - So shall I all my strength exert, - And love them with a zeal like Thine - And lead them to Thy open side, - The sheep for whom the Shepherd died." - -That hymn for the rest of the day became the burden of his prayer, and -for many days after, though when the answer came, or how, Benny never -knew. That it did come he had no doubt, for he discovered that religion -was no longer the cold formal thing he had once imagined it to be, but a -warm living something that filled his whole life. Duty now became a joy, -because love inspired it. Loving God, he loved His service and loved His -people; and at last he understood the words of the Master, "My meat is -to do the will of Him that sent Me, and to finish His work." - -I do not know that any one saw any change in Benny's life, except -perhaps the superintendent of the school. He taught from henceforth -as if his whole heart and soul were in the work; duty was no longer -irksome, but a delight, and when some of the boys of his class were -raised to a higher one, he went out into the village and got other -boys to take their places. Thus in earnest Christian work he spent his -Sabbath days; and on the Monday morning he would start out into the -fields with a light heart, feeling all the happier and stronger for -doing the Master's work on the previous day. - -For many months nothing had happened to disturb the quiet and peaceful -lives that were lived at Scout Farm. Harry and George were at college, -one studying to be a doctor, the other to be a solicitor. Winnie, -the baby--born since Benny came to the farm--had grown into a bonny -little creature, the pet of all the household; and Mr. and Mrs. Fisher -were as contented with their lot as two people could be, and wanted -no change of any kind. Benny was a little restless at times, but on -the whole was happy. But this quiet life could not be lived always, -and soon afterwards a circumstance transpired which was destined to -affect Benny's future in a way that he had no conception of. What that -circumstance was shall be told in another chapter. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. - -An Accident. - - The sea of fortune doth not ever flow, - She draws her favours to the lowest ebb - Her tides have equal time to come and go, - Her loom doth weave the fine and coarsest web - No joy so great, but runneth to an end, - No hap so hard but may in time amend. - --Southwell. - - -Not far from Scout Farm were several gentlemen's residences, occupied -chiefly by Manchester merchants, who travelled to and from the city -morning and evening by rail. One of the largest of these residences, and -also the farthest away from Scoutleigh Road Station, was occupied by a -Mr. Munroe, who was reputed to be a man of great wealth, and also of -great liberality. In consequence of the distance of Mr. Munroe's house -from the station, his coachman used to drive him to Scoutleigh Road in -the morning and fetch him in the evening, sometimes taking Mrs. Munroe, -or one of the children, at the same time. - -Mrs. Munroe was the only sister of Mr. Lawrence, of Liverpool, Benny's -former master, and, at the time to which we refer, Eva Lawrence was -spending a few weeks at Brooklands with her uncle and aunt. Little did -our hero think, as he sometimes looked across the valley at Mr. Munroe's -house, almost hidden by trees, that his "angel" was staying there. It -was doubtless well for him that he did not know. He would have been -impatient to look once more upon the face of the maiden that, next to -his sister Nelly, had been the brightest vision of his life. He still -kept the shilling that she had given him, and often when alone he would -take it out of his purse and look at it, and wonder what had become -of the little girl that befriended him in his hour of need, and would -almost long for one more sight of her angel face. - -It was at such times as these that Benny grew restless, and pined -for the bustle of Liverpool streets, and for the sight of old faces, -that day by day were fading from his memory. Yet he never seriously -entertained the idea of going back. There were only Joe and granny, and -Mr. Lawrence and Eva, that he cared to see, but that they would care to -see him was very doubtful, and he could not go back to be looked at with -suspicion. And not only so: he believed that he was where God intended -him to be. He had a home, and a good one, among friends who believed in -his honesty, and treated him with kindness. And even yet, had he been -disposed to pay a visit to his old haunts, he had no time. He was fully -employed every day of the week, and every season of the year brought its -appointed work. The days were so short in winter that they had always -their hands full, and sometimes more than they could do. And spring -was always a busy time: the lambs had to be attended to; fences had to -be repaired; and so many "crops" had to be got in, that hay harvest -came upon them frequently before they were ready. Then huge fields of -turnips and mangolds and potatoes had to be hoed, and ere that was done -the fields were white unto the harvest. Then came sheep-shearing and -ploughing land for next year's wheat crop, and potato digging, and half -a dozen other things, that allowed them no time for idleness, and it was -well for Benny that it was so. He had no time to mope or to waste in -useless regrets. - -One evening he had to pass Brooklands on his way to a neighbouring -farm. The day had been beautifully fine--a real June day, people said; -a few people complained that it had been too hot about noon, but as -the day declined a fresh breeze had sprung up, that made the evening -deliciously cool. Benny enjoyed few things more than a saunter across -the fields during a summer's evening. And this evening he was just in -the mood to enjoy the song of birds, and the scent of apple blossom and -new-mown hay. It wanted several hours yet of sundown, so he sauntered -on very leisurely, and paused when near Mr. Munroe's house, arrested by -the sound of laughter. Not far from where he stood three or four young -ladies were engaged in a game of archery, and as he could not be seen by -them, he waited awhile to watch them. He did not know that one of those -fair maidens was Eva Lawrence; how should he know? She was a little -girl when he saw her last, now she was just blooming into womanhood. -The beauty, of which her early life gave promise, was now more than -realized. But had Eva Lawrence been plain of feature, she would still -have been beautiful in the eyes of those who knew her well. Hers was -a beautiful life, and people did not wonder that it was mirrored in a -lovely face. It was a picture that would have pleased an artist's eye -on which Benny gazed, and their rippling laughter formed a pleasant -accompaniment to the rustling of the leaves and the music of the brook -that murmured down the glen. But as Benny gazed at the picture he only -saw one face, that of Eva Lawrence. He thought he had never seen the -face before, and yet it affected him strangely. It seemed to bring back -to him some half-forgotten dream. What was it that it reminded him of? -He could not tell; whatever it might be, it eluded his grasp. Like the -snatch of a forgotten song it came and went, leaving nothing definite -upon the mind. - -An hour later he returned by another way across the glen or ravine -(adown which the brook babbled) by a narrow bridge with low parapets, -and turned a sudden corner down the lane towards Scout Farm. For a -moment he paused and remarked to himself, "This is a dangerous corner; -I wonder Mr. Munroe does not alter it; and that bridge too, it is -altogether too narrow. If I drove this way as often as he does, I would -pull down that antiquated structure, and build a good wide bridge with -a high wall on either side;" and, having given expression to an opinion -that he had expressed a hundred times before, he turned on his heel and -quietly pursued his way. He had not gone many yards, however, before he -heard a great hue and cry, and, looking down the lane, he saw that Mr. -Munroe's horse had taken fright, and was rushing towards him at headlong -speed. The coachman, who had been riding behind, had coolly dropped -himself down on the road, and stood staring after the flying carriage in -blank astonishment, and shouting at the top of his voice. Benny saw that -Mr. Munroe was trying in vain to check the mad gallop of the horse, -and he saw also that the young lady whose face had attracted him so -strangely before was sitting by his side, pale and motionless. Here and -there people rushed out from the fields into the road and held up their -hands or hoes, but always retreated after a few frantic gesticulations -in time for the affrighted steed to pass. Instantly Benny thought of -the sharp corner and the narrow bridge over the deep ravine. If the -road had been straight, the wisest course would have been to have given -the horse rein, and let it tire itself out. But as it was, the horse -must be stopped before it reached the bridge, or almost certain death -would be the fate of Mr. Munroe and his niece. He had little time to -think, but he knew that to attempt to stop the horse would be attended -with considerable risk to himself. If he failed to grasp the bridle the -horse and carriage would go over him, in all probability killing him on -the spot; but he had no time to debate the question, the startled horse -was full upon him. In an instant he dashed at the bridle and caught it, -the end of the shaft striking him on the arm at the same moment, almost -causing him to let go his hold, but he held tight. For a dozen yards the -horse dragged him along the road; then he succeeded in getting it on its -knees with its nose against a hedge, and Mr. Munroe and Eva alighted in -perfect safety. By this time, however, a number of people had gathered -round, the coachman amongst the rest, who at once took charge of the -horse, and Benny slunk away as quietly as possible, and made his way -along the road as fast as he was able. Mr. Monroe, however, seeing his -intentions, followed him at once. - -"Come, come, my young friend," he said; "I cannot let you go without -thanking you for your noble act." - -"Do not mention it, sir," said Benny, with an effort, turning pale at -the same time. - -"I would be ungrateful indeed," said Mr. Munroe, "were I not to mention -it. No, I shall never forget that to your heroism my niece and myself -owe our lives." - -"I am very thankful if I have been of service to you," said Benny; "but -I could not have acted otherwise, so please----" - -But he did not finish the sentence; setting his teeth together, as if in -pain, he staggered towards a seat by the hedge. - -Instantly Mr. Munroe sprang towards him, exclaiming, "You're hurt, I'm -sure you are; tell me what's the matter." - -"My arm is broken, that is all," said Benny, with a poor attempt at a -smile; then everything began to spin around him in a very bewildering -manner, and he could never exactly recollect what happened after. He -always carried with him, however, a lively recollection of the process -of bone-setting, which he afterwards underwent, and of the sleepless -night that followed. - -Next morning Mr. Munroe came to Scout Farm and sat with Benny for half -an hour, chatting about things in general, and before he left he thanked -him again in the warmest terms for his bravery, and made him promise -to visit Brooklands as soon as he was able, stating that Mrs. Munroe -was very anxious to see him, as were also his daughters and niece, -especially the latter, who wanted to thank him personally for saving her -life. - -Benny blushed at first and begged to be excused, but Mr. Munroe would -not hear of it. So Benny reluctantly consented at last to endure the -martyrdom (to him) of being introduced to the fine ladies at the big -house, and in his heart wished he was well out of it all. He felt sure -that he should look silly and make a hole in his manners, for he had -never been used to grand people; and what would be the proper thing to -say when they thanked him he had not the remotest idea. - -"Well, Ben Bates," he said to himself when Mr. Munroe had left the room, -"you're in for it now, and no mistake. Here's a pretty kettle of fish -for you, my lad, and you've to see to it that you don't go and make -a fool of yourself. A lot you know about etiquette and drawing-room -manners; and won't you do the graceful before the ladies! Oh, dear, -dear!" - -And he laughed till the tears ran down his face, spite the pain in his -arm. - -"I think I see you going through the introduction, my lad, trying to -do the thing proper as if you knew how, and only succeeding in making -yourself look silly. And won't the ladies giggle after you're gone!" - -Then Benny looked serious, and after a long pause he went on again: - -"Look here, Ben Bates: do you think you are a downright fool, or do you -think you have just a few grains of common sense? For, unless you're a -born natural, you'll put on no airs at the big house; but you'll just -be yourself, remember, and not ape anybody else; you profess a great -hatred of sham, then don't be a sham yourself, and make yourself look -ridiculous. Remember what you are, Ben Bates; and remember, too, that -you've got nothing to be ashamed of." - -Then, after another pause: - -"I wish I was well out of this job, notwithstanding. I hate to be -thanked. I wonder, by the bye, who that young lady is? How her face -reminds me of something, something in the old life, but what I cannot -make out. How strange everything seems! I fancy sometimes I must have -lived here always, and dreamed all the rest. But no, Nelly was real, -and that shilling was real. Ah! I wonder what's become of her." And a -far-away look came into his eyes, as if he were back again in the old -life of mingled joy and pain. - -Meanwhile Mr. Munroe was out in the yard talking with Mr. Fisher. - -"A fine young fellow that of yours, Mr. Fisher," was his first greeting. - -"Yes," said the farmer; "I'd back him against any young man his age for -ten miles round." - -"An adopted son of yours, I suppose?" - -"Well, no, not exactly," replied Mr. Fisher. - -"Beg pardon, I thought you had adopted him." - -"Well, perhaps you are not far wrong either. You see, he came to us five -or six years agone, a poor little famished, wizened creature. It was a -sweltering hot day too, and he had walked all the way from Liverpool, -sleeping at nights by the roadside, and by the time he got here--or -rather, he didn't get here--our folks were making hay in the home close, -and he just got inside the gate, and dropped down in a fit, or something -of the sort. Well, he was completely done up; the doctor never thought -he would come round again, but he did, and you see what a fine fellow -he's grown to." - -"Yes, indeed! And so he has lived with you ever since?" - -"Ever since. My wife says she believes the Lord directed him here. Any -way, the boy was a great comfort to her, for we'd only just buried our -little Rob, and he seemed to fill up the gap a bit, you see." - -"I suppose you find him very handy about the farm now, Mr. Fisher?" - -"Handy? I tell you, there isn't his equal for miles around. He took to -the farm as natural as a duck takes to the water. In fact, the plucky -little dog said he wouldn't stay to be a burden to us, and he never has -been. In fact, if we came to square accounts, I fancy that I should find -that I was considerably in his debt." - -"And you find him perfectly trustworthy?" - -"He's as honest as the daylight, sir, and as good as gold. Why, I'd -trust him with my life, and so would the missus. She thinks a sight of -him, I can assure you." - -"I do not wonder at it, Mr. Fisher; he's a brave young fellow, and -deserves notice and help--if he needed it." - -"Brave? Well, you've said just right in that, Mr. Munroe; he's as brave -as a lion. I don't think the young dog knows what fear is. I expect -it'll be getting him into trouble some of these days. But then, bless -you, on the other hand, he's as gentle as a woman, and the very soul of -kindness. I believe the young scamp would give away the last copper he -had, if he saw some one he fancied wanted it more than himself." - -"Indeed!" said Mr. Munroe, feeling rather amused at Mr. Fisher's -enthusiasm. "It is not often you see people possessing so many good -qualities." - -"Good! Well, you've hit it again, the lad _is_ good; and yet, mark you, -he ain't none of the goody-goody sort either. Why, bless you, he's as -full of fun and frolic as an egg is full of meat. You should just see -the carryings on we have here when the lads are home from school. I -laugh sometimes fit to kill myself, and yet feel as mad as a sheep at -'em, for they give me no peace of my life." - -"Well, we cannot expect the young folks to be as sedate and steady-going -as we older people, Mr. Fisher." - -"That's what my wife says, sir; she says it's as natural for the lads -to play as it is for the kittens, and that it's quite as harmless, and -I don't think she's far wrong. In fact, I generally give in to her; -she's had a sight better education than ever I had, so she ought to know -better." - -"Ah, speaking about education, Mr. Fisher, what sort of education has -this young man had?" - -"Well, Mr. Munroe, I confess I'm no judge in matters of that sort. You -see, he was never at a day school a day in his life; but for all that he -seems to have a natural gift for learning. Our George says he's got on -wonderfully; and old Mr. Jones, that keeps the night school yonder at -Scoutleigh, says he can't teach him any more." - -"Excuse me asking all these questions, Mr. Fisher, but I feel quite -interested in the young man. It's but natural I should, since I owe my -life to him; and I should like to do something for him, if I could see -how it's to be done." - -"It's very kind of you, I'm sure, and I can assure you you'll not find -me stand in the lad's way. Fact is, I've thought many times of late that -he's too good--too well informed, and that kind of thing--to be a farm -labourer all his life, and he'd never get enough as a day labourer to -become a farmer on his own account." - -"Just so; the same thought has occurred to me, but we'll see what can be -done. Good morning, Mr. Fisher." - -"Good morning, sir, good morning." - -And Mr. Fisher went his way to his farm, and Mr. Munroe to the station, -to catch the noon train to Manchester. - -Benny kept indoors two whole days, and declared that they were two of -the longest days of his life. But on the third morning he was out in the -fields again with his arm in a sling. He could not work, so he took a -book with him and lay down by a sunny hedge, and read till dinner-time. -He would not be treated as an invalid. - -"I'm all right but for my game arm," he said to Mrs. Fisher, when she -brought him some little delicacy that she had cooked for his special -benefit; "and I think I know some one that will enjoy it a great deal -more than I should," looking across to baby Winnie, who was eyeing the -dish with curious eyes. "At any rate, she shall have a share. Come here, -Winnie," he said, turning to the child, "come to Benny." - -And the little bit of humanity slipped off her chair in what Benny would -have once characterized as "sca'se no time," and came toddling round the -table towards him, holding up her little fat dimpled hands, and with -eyes brimful of delight. - -"Take us up, 'enny," said the little prattler; "Winnie 'oves 'oo very -much." - -"Easier said than done, you young foxy," said Benny, laughing down upon -the child. "Come, mammy," turning to Mrs. Fisher, "lend us a helping -hand, and get this young soldier where she wants to be." And soon Benny -and baby were eating out of the same dish, and it would have been hard -to decide which enjoyed it most. - -So day after day passed away, and Benny kept putting off the promised -visit to Brooklands. Mrs. Fisher was constantly reminding him of his -promise, and yet every day he found some fresh excuse for staying away. - -One afternoon, however, about a fortnight after the accident, he -announced to Mrs. Fisher that he was going to pay his promised visit to -the lions that afternoon. - -"That's right, Benny; though I don't think from your own experience that -you have any occasion to call the ladies lions," and Mrs. Fisher bent on -him a knowing look. - -"Right you are, mammy; I believe they are mostly angels after all, and -perhaps those at Brooklands will be no exception to the rule." - -"I'm sure they will be kind to you, Benny; so you had better be off and -get ready." - -Half an hour later he came into the sitting-room to Mrs. Fisher, dressed -for his visit. - -"Now, mammy," he said, "am I presentable?" - -"Go away with you," she said, laughing, though casting at the same -time an admiring look at the manly young fellow that stood before her, -"you'll be as proud as a peacock soon." - -"Right you are again. I feel the pride creeping up already. But now for -a sight of the angels, so good-bye." - -And off he started to pay a visit that was to be fraught with vastly -more important issues than he had any conception of. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. - -Recognition. - - "That strain again; it had a dying fall: - Oh, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south - That breathes upon a bank of violets, - Stealing and giving odour."--_Tempest_. - - -When our hero reached the bridge that spanned the narrow dell, he paused -for a moment and looked over the low parapet at the deep gully that had -been worn away by the action of the water, and shuddered as he thought -of what would have happened had he failed to grasp the bridle-rein. "I -expect this breakneck place will be remedied now," he said, "that a -couple of lives have come near being lost over it. If the horse had -not been stopped there could not have been the least possible chance of -their escape. Well, well, I'm thankful the affair ended in nothing worse -than a broken arm." - -Passing through the lodge gates, he wended his way slowly along the -carriage drive towards the house. High above his head the leafy canopy -swayed gently in the summer breeze, making pleasant music, and here -and there an industrious bee droned dreamily on leaf and flower. From -distant fields the sheep-bells jingled gently, and mingled with the -whistling of a plough-boy riding home his tired team, while from a -neighbouring farmyard the patient cows lowed lazily while waiting to be -milked. - -When Benny reached the door of the Munroe mansion, he felt strongly -tempted to turn and go back again; but concluding that such an action -would be exceedingly foolish, he seized the bell-handle, gave it a -vigorous pull, and waited. - -"Is Mr. Munroe at home?" he inquired of the servant who opened the door. - -"Yes; but he's engaged at present. Will you give me your name?" - -"Bates. But never mind, you need not disturb him; another time will do -as well." - -"I think the master has been expecting you to call," with a glance at -Benny's arm. - -"Very likely. I said I would call some afternoon." - -"I'm sure he will see you, then. Come this way, please, into the -library." - -Benny followed without a word, and soon found himself surrounded on -every side with books. - -"Oh, my!" he said, "I think I should enjoy spending a fortnight here. -I wonder how long it would take me to read all these books, and how -much longer to understand them? Ay, that's the rub--understanding and -remembering what one does read." - -Then he ran his eye along shelf after shelf, reading only the titles. - -"I expect I should feel like a boy in a sweet-shop, not knowing which -bottle to start with. Ah, Wordsworth!" as his eye caught the name. "I've -heard of him. I wonder what the inside is like?" - -He must have found something very interesting, for when Mr. Munroe came -into the room half an hour later, Benny did not notice his entrance. -Mr. Munroe watched him with an amused smile on his face for about five -minutes, then said, - -"I'm glad you've found something to take your fancy, Mr. Bates." - -Benny started, and blushed to the roots of his hair. In the first place -he thought he was alone, and in the second place it was the first time -that he had ever been addressed as "mister." - -"I beg pardon," he stammered out at length. "I did not know you were in -the room." - -"Don't mention it. I'm glad to see that you are fond of books; and I'm -glad to see you here." - -Benny blushed again, but did not reply. - -"I was afraid you were not coming," went on Mr. Munroe; "but how is your -arm?" - -"Getting on nicely, thank you; the doctor says it will soon be as right -as ever." - -"I'm glad to hear it. It's a mercy we were not every one of us killed; -but I'm having a new bridge built. I've been _going_ to have it done for -the last ten years, but kept putting it off; however, they are going to -start with the job next week." - -"I'm very glad to hear it," said Benny. "It's not safe as it is at -present." - -"No, no; you're quite right there." - -Then there was an awkward pause, and Benny began to feel uncomfortable. -Mr. Munroe was the first to speak. - -"I wanted to see you here," he said, "to have a little conversation with -you about--about--yourself," bringing out the last word with a jerk. - -Benny did not know what reply to make to this, so he said nothing. - -"I understand you have not always lived in the country?" questioned Mr. -Munroe. - -"No, sir; I lived in Liverpool till I was twelve or thirteen years of -age." - -"And how do you like farming?" - -"Very well, I think; but, really, I've scarcely thought about it." - -"You are not uncomfortable, then?" - -"Oh, no! far from it. Mr. and Mrs. Fisher took me in when I was -houseless, homeless, friendless, and all but dead, and ever since have -treated me with the utmost kindness. I have a better home now than I -ever had before in my life, and as for the work I do, I feel that it's -but poor compensation for the kindness bestowed upon me." - -"You have no wish, then, to be anything different to what you are?" - -"I did not say so, sir; but as I have no expectation of being other than -what I am, I try to be content." - -"Ah, just so; and yet I am told you have paid considerable attention to -intellectual pursuits." - -"I have tried to make the most of my opportunities for acquiring -knowledge. I'm fond of books--very; and knowledge I love for its own -sake." - -"Well spoken, Mr. Bates. I like to hear a young man talk in that way. -You are a good penman, Mr. Jones tells me." - -"He has paid me that compliment before, but I am scarcely a judge." - -"You understand bookkeeping?" - -"A little." - -"Double entry?" - -"Yes." - -"Quick at accounts?" - -"I should think not. I have scarcely had sufficient practice." - -"I suppose if you stay on the farm there is no prospect of your rising -to anything higher than a day labourer?" - -"Not much, I fear." - -"Well, now, Mr. Bates, I may as well out with it first as last. I am -very much pleased with you; I am, indeed. I cannot forget that you saved -my life, and the life of my niece; and I am anxious to help you to -something better than being a farm labourer if you will let me. Almost -any one can do farm work, and I think you are deserving of something -better, because you have educated yourself for it. Now, I shall be -glad to take you into my city office, and give you a start in life. I -commenced as a clerk at the desk, and what I have accomplished there is -no reason why you may not. What do you say, now?" - -"I hardly know what to say," said Benny. "I am very much obliged to you -for your kind offer, but I would like to talk with Mr. and Mrs. Fisher -about the matter before I come to a decision." - -"You are quite right, Mr. Bates. Let me know this day week; and now let -us go into the drawing-room and see the ladies." - -Benny followed Mr. Munroe like one in a dream up a broad flight of -stairs, and into a large and luxuriantly furnished room. Then commenced -the introduction which he had so much dreaded. He bowed to each one in -turn, Mr. Munroe mentioning the name of each person; but Benny never -heard a word he said, and was never quite certain whether he was bowing -to a lady or gentleman. It was over, however, at length, and he sat down -with a feeling of infinite relief, and took up a volume of Milton that -was lying on a table near him. Then Miss Munroe came forward with the -question-- - -"Are you fond of poetry, Mr. Bates?" - -"Yes, very." - -"You know Wordsworth, of course?" - -"No. I ought to be ashamed to say so, but I do not." - -And then followed a conversation about poets and authors of various -kinds, and Benny soon forgot his shyness, and chatted away with as much -freedom as if he had been at Scout Farm. - -By-and-bye Eva Lawrence came forward shyly, and with a soft blush -tinging neck and face; and Miss Munroe rose and left her and Benny -together. It was growing dusk by this time, and she sat with her back to -the light, so that Benny could scarcely see her face. - -"I am very grateful to you, Mr. Bates," she began in a low voice, "for -your bravery in stopping our horse the other night." - -Benny started, for something in the voice reminded him again of other -days, and he did not reply for a moment; and Eva went on-- - -"Uncle tells me that if you had not stopped the horse, nothing could -have saved us;" and she shuddered slightly. - -"I am very thankful, indeed, that I have been permitted to be of service -to you," began Benny. - -Then Mrs. Munroe came forward, and the conversation drifted off into -matters in general, for which he was very thankful, and ended in Eva -being requested to sing. - -"What are your favourite songs?" asked Mrs. Munroe. - -"Well, I hardly know," said Benny, blushing. "I know so very few; but -the simpler they are the better they please me, as a rule." - -"Could you mention one or two?" - -"Yes; there is one called 'Love at Home,' which I like very much." - -"Oh, that's one of your old songs, dear," said Mrs. Munroe, turning to -Eva. "You remember it, don't you?" - -"Yes, quite well; but I don't care to sing it, aunt, unless Mr. Bates -very much wishes to hear it." - -"I should like to hear it again very much," said Benny; "but don't sing -it if you would rather not." - -"I will do my best, anyhow;" and she got up and went to the piano. - -"Ring for lights, dear," said Mrs. Munroe, addressing her daughter; "it -is getting quite dark." - -"No, no, aunt, please," said Eva; "I know it quite well without the -music, and I think the gloaming is the nicest part of the day;" and she -sat down and began to play over the air; then there was a long pause, -for Eva's thoughts had wandered away elsewhere. - -"We are all attention, dear," said Mrs. Munroe. - -"Excuse me," said Eva; "but I was thinking of something else. I will -tell you all about it directly, if you care to hear." - -Then, clear and sweet, rang out the words, - - "There is beauty all around, - When there's love at home." - -And Benny felt thankful that the lights had not been brought, for in the -gloom he could hide his emotion. When the song was finished, Eva swung -herself round on the music-stool, and said, - -"You will think me very silly, I have no doubt, but I never sing that -old song without thinking of what happened years ago." - -"Dear me, how old you talk!" laughed her cousin. - -"Well, Dot, I _am_ getting old; but never mind, I was only a little girl -then. Pa and I were returning from Chester, and when we landed from the -railway-boat, a pale hungry-looking lad came up to pa and asked him to -carry his bag. Well, pa had been delayed, and consequently he was in a -hurry, so he said 'No' to the boy in a stern voice, and pushed roughly -past, and I saw the boy turn away and begin to cry; so scarcely thinking -what I was doing, I went to the boy and asked him why he cried, and he -said he was hungry and cold, that he had no father or mother, and that -he had just buried his little sister, and nobody would employ him; so I -gave him a new shilling that pa had given me, and asked him if he was -generally on the landing-stage. - -"'Yes,' he said; and his face brightened wonderfully at the sight of the -shilling, and an honest-looking face it was too; 'I'm mostly hereabouts.' - -"Well," continued Eva, after a pause, "I thought no more about the lad -for several days, when one afternoon I was in the dining-room alone, and -I began to play and sing 'Love at Home.' When I had finished, I rose to -close the window, and there just outside was the very boy I had given -the shilling to, his eyes full of tears; but when he saw he was noticed -he shrank away, as if ashamed he had been caught listening." - -"And so you conceived a romantic attachment to the lad?" chimed in Mr. -Munroe. - -"Of course I did, uncle; but to be serious. Teacher had been telling us -that we ought to be little missionaries, etc, and I thought this was a -likely case to experiment on. So I got pa interested, and in the end the -boy was taken into his office, and a better boy pa said he never had. He -was honest, truthful, industrious, and seemed very anxious to learn." - -Then there was another pause, and if Benny ever felt thankful for the -darkness, he did then. It was all clear to him now. This, then, was his -little angel, grown into a grand lady! and yet she had not forgotten the -poor street boy. He would like to have spoken, and put an end to further -revelations, but he dared not trust himself to speak. Then Eva went on -again: - -"I am come to the most painful part of the story. This boy had been with -pa six months, when one Saturday afternoon he left him in charge of -the office, but he had scarcely got a hundred yards from the door when -he remembered that he had left a bank note on his desk, and instantly -turned back for it. Well, when he got into the office the note was -gone. Nobody had been in the office but the boy, and yet he denied ever -having seen it. Well, pa was quite in a way. He searched everywhere, -but it was not to be found. So the boy was apprehended on suspicion, -and taken to the police-station. I was in a great way too, for it was -through me that pa had employed the boy; still, I could not believe -that he was dishonest. At the trial he was given the benefit of the -doubt and dismissed, and has never been seen or heard of since. But the -strangest part of all is, about a month later pa wanted to look at the -Directory--a book he does not use very often--and the first thing on -which his eye fell as he opened the book was the missing bank-note. He -_was_ in a way when he came home, and we chatted about nothing else all -the evening, for he remembered then very distinctly how he had laid the -note on the open book, and before he went out had shut it up quickly, -and placed it on the shelf. What troubled pa so much was, the boy had -been robbed of his character, for the magistrates had little doubt of -his guilt, though there was no positive evidence; and when a lad's -character is gone his fortune is gone. All inquiries concerning him have -been fruitless. And pa says sometimes that he feels occasionally as if -he had driven the poor boy to destruction. So you see whenever I sing -that song it always brings back to my mind this painful story." - -After the story was ended there was silence for a few moments. Benny -would liked to have spoken, but his heart was too full--to think that -the shadow was lifted from his life at last! He wished he could have -been alone for a few moments, that he might out of the fulness of his -heart have thanked God. - -"What a pity," said Mrs. Munroe at length, "that the boy could not be -found." - -Then Benny got up, and said in a voice tremulous with emotion, "I must -go now, please; but before I go I would like to say that I am the lost -boy." - -"You!" they all said in chorus. - -"Yes. I cannot say more now." And he sat down again, and hid his face in -his hands. - -"How strange!" said Eva; "but I see it all now. I could not think who -you reminded me of; but you have strangely altered." - -"Yes, I suppose I have," he said huskily; "and yet, perhaps, not more -than you have." - -"How thankful pa will be!" she said, not heeding his last remark. "I -will write and tell him to-morrow." - -"Well," said Mr. Munroe, speaking at length, "if this is not the -strangest ending to a story that I ever came across!" - -"It's as good as a novel," said Miss Munroe. "I declare it would make a -capital tale." - -"And your father is satisfied that I am honest now?" said Benny, going -towards Eva. - -"Yes; but I don't think that he ever really believed you were dishonest." - -"And you never doubted my honesty?" - -"No, never." - -That was all that passed between them. - -When he had gone Mr. Munroe remarked, "A wonderful young man that; I -never in my life met with a more remarkable case. How the young fellow -has managed to bear up and fight the world as he has is beyond my -comprehension." - -"And he has the bearing of a gentleman too," remarked Miss Munroe. "I -expected we were going to be highly amused at his behaviour and his -dialect, and so on; but really he speaks quite correctly." - -"He always was a well-behaved boy," remarked Eva; "and during the time -he was in pa's office he told one of the clerks that he was very anxious -to speak correctly." - -"He must have worked very hard, however," said Mr. Munroe; "and a lad -with such application, pluck, and determination is sure to get on. I -confess I shall watch his future career with great interest." - -"But what surprises me most," said Mrs. Munroe, "is the sterling honesty -that seems always to have characterized him. As a rule, those street -Arabs have the crudest notions of right and wrong." - -"He told me once," said Eva, "that he could just remember his mother, -who told him to be honest, and truthful, and good; but his little sister -Nelly, who died just before I met him, seems to have been his safeguard, -and but for her he said he felt certain he should have been a thief." - -Meanwhile the subject of this conversation was making his way along the -silent lanes that lay between Brooklands and Scout Farm like one in a -dream. Could it be really true, he mused, that he had seen his angel -face to face, that he had listened again while she sang "Love at Home," -and that he had heard from her own lips how the lost bank-note had been -found, and how that now no stain rested upon his name? What a wonderful -day it had been! Could it be possible that his long-buried hopes might -be realized at last? - -In a lonely part of the road he paused and listened, but no sound broke -the stillness. Above him twinkled the silent stars; around him all -nature lay hushed and still. - -"God is here," he said; and lifting up his face to the sky, and clasping -his hands together, he poured out his heart in thanksgiving. - -"O God!" he said, "I thank Thee for all things; for the sorrow, and -pain, and loss, for the darkness through which I have wandered, and -for the burdens I have had to bear. Thou hast never forsaken me. Thou -hast always been good. I thank Thee for bringing me here, and for the -discipline of toil. And now that Thou hast lifted off the cloud that so -long has darkened my life, help me to praise Thee, and love Thee more -and more. I want to be good, and noble, and true. Help me, O Father, for -Thy mercy's sake." - -Benny slept but little that night. In the long silent hours he lived all -his life over again, and wondered at the mercy of God. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII. - -The Question Settled. - - Life's withered leaves grow green again and fresh with childhood's spring. - As I am welcomed back once more within its rainbow ring; - The past, with all its gathered charms, beckons me back in joy, - And loving hearts and open arms re-clasp me as a boy. - --Massey. - - -Next morning Benny was unusually quiet, so much so that Mrs. Fisher -thought he was not well; but he insisted that nothing was the matter -with him, and she did not like to question him further. But when Mr. -Fisher came in to breakfast he began to rally Benny at once, and to ask -him how he got on with the grand folks on the previous evening. - -"Very well, I think," Benny answered, simply; "they all seemed very -grateful for the little service I had been able to render them." - -"And did you find the ladies lions, Benny?" inquired Mrs. Fisher. - -"Indeed no," said Benny, colouring; "they all of them made me think more -of angels than of lions." - -"Indeed?" said Mrs. Fisher, in a questioning tone. - -"Yes, they treated me with the utmost kindness, every one of them; but, -now I think of it, the ladies always have done so," said Benny, with a -laugh. - -"I should think so," interposed Mr. Fisher; "but Mr. Munroe spoke to me -about helping you in some way: did he say anything to you about it?" - -"Yes; that was what he wanted to see me at his house for principally." - -"Well, lad, out with it: did he make you an offer of some sort?" - -"Yes, he made me a very kind offer indeed." - -"Well, Ben, what was it like? You are precious slow this morning." - -"Am I?" - -"You are, indeed. He hasn't proposed suicide to you, has he?" - -"Not quite. But I had better tell you all that passed between us." - -"Of course you accepted his offer?" said Mr Fisher, when he had done. - -"No, I did not." - -"You didn't?" - -"No; I said I would like to talk to you about it before coming to a -decision." - -"You needn't fear, lad," said Mr. Fisher, with a little shake in his -voice, "that I will put a straw in your way. I shall be very sorry to -lose you, I confess, for you have been a great help to me, especially as -neither Harry nor George would take to farming, and I know you have been -a great comfort to the missus." - -"That he has," said Mrs. Fisher, as if speaking to herself. - -"But," continued Mr. Fisher, without heeding his wife's remark, "I have -thought for some time past that you might do better for yourself than -slaving on a farm all the days of your life; and now that you've got -the chance of bettering your condition, my advice is, accept it by all -means, and think yourself a lucky dog for getting such an offer." - -"Oh, yes, Benny," said Mrs. Fisher, "I think you had better accept Mr. -Munroe's offer: such a chance does not often come twice in a lifetime; -and besides, you can still make this your home--that is, you will be -able to come on a Saturday night and stay until Monday morning." - -"Of course you will, Ben; I never thought of that," said Mr. Fisher. "I -believe you have got into luck's way at last." - -"But I have something more to tell you yet," said Benny, looking up with -a smile. - -"More in the way of good luck?" said Mr. Fisher. - -"Well, I don't think the word luck will apply exactly, and yet what I -have to tell you is to me very good news indeed." - -"Well, lad, out with it: you are beating about the bush in tremendous -style this morning, and no mistake." - -"Oh, you are so impatient!" laughed Benny; "and I declare you look a -great deal more curious than Mrs. Fisher does." - -"Well, and what has that to do with it, you tantalizing young vagabond?" - -"Oh, a great deal!" said Benny, laughing: "you always profess that -curiosity is a feminine weakness which you are a stranger to, and yet -here you are as curious and impatient as a schoolgirl!" and Benny -laughed again. - -"Well, Ben," laughed Mr. Fisher, "you have me this time, I'll admit. I -am a bit curious; there's no denying it; so let us know what this piece -of good news is." - -"You have heard me speak," said Benny, "of the little girl that gave me -my lucky shilling years ago?" - -"The angel, you mean, Benny," said Mrs. Fisher, with a smile. - -"Yes, that's who I mean," said Benny, blushing; "and I am not quite -certain that she is not an angel yet." - -"Well, and what of her?" said Mr. Fisher. - -"I daresay you will think it a strange story, but it seems she is a -niece of Mr. Munroe, and is staying at present at Brooklands. She was -with Mr. Munroe the night the horse took fright, and so without knowing -it I saved the life of the little girl that befriended me in the hour of -my greatest need. A little girl no longer, however, for she has grown -into a grand lady, and yet she seems as good and kind as ever." - -"Well, I never!" said Mr. Fisher. - -"And you recognized each other at once?" inquired his wife. - -"No, that we didn't: she has grown out of recollection quite; and I -suppose I have also." - -"Well, I should rather think you have," said Mr. Fisher, with a broad -grin; "you were a scarecrow when you found your way here, and no -mistake." - -"But how did you find out who she was?" said Mrs. Fisher. - -"By the merest accident. But you would never guess, so I will tell you -all about it." And he detailed the circumstances with which the reader -is familiar. - -"Well, if I ever!" grunted Mr. Fisher. - -"I'm so thankful, Benny," Mrs. Fisher remarked; "though the finding of -the note can make no difference in our regard for you, for we never -doubted your honesty for a moment." - -"Thank you, mammy;" and he looked fondly up into the face of the good -woman who for so many years had been as a mother to him. - -After breakfast Benny took a book and went out into the fields to -read, but somehow to-day the letters got hopelessly mixed, and all the -lines seemed to run into one. He did his best to fix his mind upon the -subject of the book, but in vain: before he had read a dozen words the -letters would fade away, and his thoughts would be somewhere else; and -not only his thoughts, but his eyes kept wandering in the direction of -Brooklands, and he found himself weaving all kinds of fancies. But in -every pattern stood out the face of one he had never forgotten either -in joy or pain. How grandly life was opening out before him again! -The mountain heights that had been so long in darkness were once more -bathed in light. The wilderness surely lay all behind him now. Ah! he -had thought so once before, and had found out that he had only just -commenced the journey across the dreary waste. Was it to be so again? -Would this glorious morning close in darkness? Were hopes always -delusive, and but the prelude of despair? He knew not; and yet he had -no fear. "The Lord," he said, "has always provided for me; I believe He -always will." - -Then a lark rose up from its lowly nest near him, and went singing -upward through the sky, and as he listened to the full rich song -that floated down to him, he seemed to hear in it the promise of an -ever-faithful Friend--"And not one of them falls to the ground without -the notice of His eye.... Are ye not much better than they?" - -Towards the close of the afternoon Benny found himself in the lane that -led down to the bridge that crossed the dell. He had no particular -object in view, only he loved a quiet stroll through the country lanes -in the quiet of the day, and he was useless on the farm till his arm -got better. Below in the valley the river rippled pleasantly over its -stony bed. To Benny's ears it sounded like a song, while his own fancy -supplied the words-- - - "There is beauty all around - When there's love at home." - -On turning the sharp corner of which we have already spoken, he came -suddenly face to face with Eva Lawrence. Benny blushed scarlet; but Eva -held out her hand in a simple childish manner, and said frankly, - -"I am pleased to see you----" (she was about to say "Benny," but checked -herself), and added, "I hope your arm is still improving." - -"Yes, thank you; it will soon be as well as ever." - -"I am very glad; but how strange, isn't it, that I should have found you -again?" - -"Yes, very; but my life has been a strange one altogether." - -"I suppose so. Do you remember telling me all about your life up to the -time I first saw you on the landing-stage?" - -"Yes, I remember. Do you remember giving me the shilling? Of course you -do, for you mentioned it last night, but I wanted to tell you I have -that shilling yet." - -And Benny took the shilling out of his purse and handed it to her. - -"How funny!" said she, taking the coin in her hand; "and is this the -very same?" - -"Yes; I have never had the heart to part with it, somehow, though I've -wanted bread since you gave it to me. I call it my lucky shilling." - -"How strange!" she said, more to herself than to him. "Then you have -never forgotten us?" - -"Forgotten you!" said Benny, "I should----" Then he checked himself, -and added, after a pause, "No, I could not easily forget those who have -befriended me." - -By this time they had reached the bridge, and Eva sat down on the low -parapet, and Benny took a seat opposite her. For a while neither spoke, -then Eva looked up and said, - -"Would you mind telling me about yourself since that dreadful evening -you had to leave pa's office?" - -"If you care to hear it, though I fear it would be a very uninteresting -story." - -"I should like to hear it very much, for I have often wondered what -could have become of you." - -"I should not have kept silence all these years if I had thought any one -cared to know what had become of me, but I supposed that I should best -please those who had known me by keeping out of their sight." - -"You were mistaken in that, I am sure; but never mind now, I am all -curiosity to hear your story." - -Benny could not resist this request, so he gave her an outline of what -we have given in greater detail, making as little as possible, however, -of his sufferings and privations, and dwelling at length, and with much -feeling, on the kindness of his friends at the farm. Of his inner life -he said nothing. His religious experience seemed too deep for words, too -sacred for parade, and he had not framed an experience yet to use on -public occasions, and he preferred also that his actions, rather than -his words, should reveal his religious life. - -Eva listened with great attention, and her quick imagination supplied -what she felt he had left out. For awhile there was silence after -Benny had told his story, save for the clear river that babbled down -underneath the bridge, for both were thinking of the old days that had -passed away for ever. - -At length Eva arose and held out her hand, and Benny took the little -white fingers in his hard brown palm, and held them just for a moment. - -"Good evening, Mr. Bates; I must go home now," she said. - -"Good evening, Miss Lawrence." And Benny watched her glide away among -the shadows of the tall trees, in the direction of Brooklands, then -turned and walked slowly home. - -The next morning, as he was leaving the house, he almost stumbled over -Mr. Lawrence, who on receipt of his daughter's letter had come over at -once. - -"Mr. Lawrence!" said Benny, in a tone of surprise. - -"Then you _are_ Benny, I suppose," he said, "as you recognize me, but I -should never have known you." - -"Yes, I am Benny Bates, but you have not altered in the least; I should -have known you anywhere." - -"Well, Benny," said Mr. Lawrence with much feeling, taking his hand, -"you cannot tell how thankful I am to see you alive and well." Then, -glancing at Benny's arm, which he still carried in a sling, he added, "I -beg pardon, I had forgotten your arm for a moment. I have to thank you -also for saving my daughter's life." - -"Do not mention it, Mr. Lawrence; I have received abundant thanks -already." - -"That may be, but I have much to say to you; can you spare time for a -walk?" - -"Yes, with pleasure; I am able to do nothing, as you see, and so time -hangs rather heavy." - -"Benny," said Mr. Lawrence, when they had gone some distance, "when I -found that missing bank-note, I resolved that, if ever I saw you again -or had the chance of speaking to you, I would ask your forgiveness for -the wrong I did you." - -"Do not speak in that way, please," said Benny. "If you wronged me it -was not intentionally, so that I have nothing to forgive; if I had, it -should be freely granted." - -"Thank you. And now, Benny, will you return to Liverpool again? Not to -be office boy," he said, glancing at Benny's tall and well-knit frame; -"I can find you something much better than that, and I should like to -make you some reparation for all you have suffered through me." - -"Thank you, Mr. Lawrence," said Benny firmly; "but I could not come -simply to be tolerated because you fancied you had wronged me, and -wished to make amends." - -Mr. Lawrence looked up in surprise. - -"You will understand what I mean, I think," said Benny. "I am too old -and too big to be any longer an object of charity, but if you think I -am able to fill the place you want filled, and am worth the salary that -you are in the habit of paying, then I will consider your very kind -proposal." - -"I understand what you mean now," said Mr. Lawrence, "and I must say I -admire your independence. I do not wish you to be an object of charity, -for Mr. Munroe tells me that he finds, through inquiries that he has -made, that you are a good penman, and quick at accounts, and if you -will come and take the vacant stool in my office, I shall be sincerely -obliged." - -"Thank you; but do you know that Mr. Munroe has made me a similar offer?" - -"Yes." - -"Do you require an answer now?" - -"To-morrow will do." - -"Let it be to-morrow, then, please, and I will think about it in the -meanwhile." - -Benny had decided the question, however, before he slept that night. -Manchester was a strange place, Liverpool was his home. He knew every -street for half a mile around the Custom House as well as he knew the -lanes around Scout Farm. He had spent his childhood there; his earliest, -ay, and his happiest recollections were associated with it. It had been -the scene of his greatest struggles and triumphs. It had witnessed his -deepest joy and his bitterest sorrow, and though he had left it in -disgrace and pain, he loved it still. There were a few people there he -had pined to see. It was Joe Wrag's home; it was Nelly's resting-place; -granny lived there, and his Sunday-school teacher, and Mr. Lawrence, -and--. But never mind, Liverpool was dear to him still, and in the very -spot from which he had been driven in disgrace he would start afresh. - -Next morning he walked across to Brooklands, and asked to see Mr. Munroe. - -"I have come," he said, as soon as that gentleman appeared, "to tell you -that I cannot accept your very kind offer." - -"I guessed as much," said Mr. Munroe, with a smile, "when I heard Mr. -Lawrence had been after you. So Liverpool has more attractions for you -than Manchester, eh?" - -"Yes, sir, Liverpool is my home, and Manchester would be strange to me; -but I am very much obliged to you for your kindness." - -"I do not blame you, Mr. Bates; on the contrary, I think you have acted -wisely. Still, if at any time you should need a friend, you may reckon -upon me." - -"Thank you, sir," said Benny, with a shake in his voice, "thank you very -much; and now, sir, could I see Mr. Lawrence?" - -"Oh, yes, I will send him to you at once." - -"Good morning, Benny," was Mr Lawrence's greeting; "and have you settled -the matter?" - -"Yes, sir, I will accept your offer." - -"That's right; I am glad to hear it. And now, when can you be ready?" - -"In a week, sir." - -"That will do; and in the meantime I will secure lodgings for you, and -make things as straight and pleasant against your arrival as I possibly -can." - -"Thank you very much." - -"Don't name it; but I will send you word when I have secured a -comfortable home for you, so that if you like to send on your luggage -beforehand, you may do so." - -The next few days Benny was busy getting his things together, previous -to his departure from Scout Farm. Little Winnie followed him everywhere, -and wanted him to promise her that he would not "do away." He did not -think until he began to pack his things that the parting would cost him -so much, nor did he know till then how closely the little prattling -Winnie had twined herself around his heart. - -"Benny does not 'ove his 'ittle Winnie, to do away," the child repeated -over and over again, with choking voice and brimming eyes. - -"Benny's pet," he would say, taking her up in his arms and kissing away -her tears; "he loves you more than he can tell." - -"Then Benny'll stay with Winnie, won't he?" - -"Do you want Benny to stay very badly, eh, pet?" - -"Oh, yes, Winnie 'oves 'oo werry much; don't do away, Benny." - -"I'll come back again at Christmas, Winnie, and then we'll have rare -fun, and I'll bring you a new doll and heaps of oranges." - -But the child would not be comforted. - -At length the last morning of his stay arrived. It was a silent party -that sat down to breakfast, for the hearts of all were too full for -speech. Then the trap was brought round, and they all drove over to the -station together. The train was in time this morning, for which Benny -felt thankful. There was only time for a hurried good bye good-bye, an -extra kiss for Winnie, and the train started for the busy town where -Benny was to commence afresh the race of life. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV. - -The Reward of Well-doing. - - I have seen angels in the gloomy prison, - In crowded halls, by the lone widow's hearth; - And when they passed the fallen have uprisen, - The giddy paused, the mourner's hope had birth. - - * * * * * - - And by his side there moved a form of beauty, - Strewing sweet flowers along his path of life. - And looking up with meek and love-lent duty: - I call her angel, but he called her wife. - - -On reaching Liverpool, his first visit was to his sister's grave. He -would never have found it, were it not for a curious-shaped stone that -he had embedded in the sod ere he went away. As it was, he was a long -time before he could discover it among the hundreds of grass-grown -mounds lying all around it. It seemed to him that he had lived a long -life since he lay there that summer night, and resolved that he would -leave Liverpool behind him, and go out into the great world that lay -beyond to seek his fortune. "Ah, well!" he mused, "I have made no -fortune, but I have lived a life of peace, and God has taken care of me, -and now I have come back again no longer a child, though scarcely a man, -and I believe God will take care of me here." Kneeling by the little -grave, he offered up a silent prayer for help and protection. He thanked -God for his little sister that was safe from the world's temptation, and -prayed that when he should be laid down to sleep by her side, they might -meet by the far-off Jordan river, and part no more for ever. - -He was in a very subdued frame of mind when he left the cemetery and -wended his way in the direction of Tempest Court. He could not help -wondering as he threaded his way through the busy streets whether granny -was still alive, but he certainly did not expect to find that Tempest -Court was no longer in existence. Such, however, was the case. The march -of improvement had swept away hundreds of tumble-down houses, in one -of which granny had dwelt for so many years. But she did not live to -see that day. In the little home in which she had lived so long she was -permitted to die; and so, when the "destroyer," as she would have called -it, came to Tempest Court, she was gone--gone home to the Father's -mansion, to the "house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens." - -But Benny knew nothing of this, and so he gazed with a look of pain -at the heaps of broken bricks and mortar which men were busy carting -away, and thought what a grief it would be to granny. His next visit -was to St. George's Hall, and for a while he sat in the shadow of the -great portico to watch the hurrying crowds passing up and down. How -different it was from the silent country and the still, drowsy fields! -What a tremendous hurry everybody seemed to be in! Was it always so? He -had never noticed it in the old days: surely the great town must have -grown bigger and busier in the years he had been away from it. "But I -daresay I shall soon get used to it," he said to himself, as he rose -from his seat, and started this time for the landing-stage. Here he saw -no change. The mighty river was the same as in the old days, a scene of -life and beauty. But the children selling matches and the women crying -newspapers brought more vividly back to his mind than anything else the -days of his own childhood. In the cemetery it seemed a life-time since -he went away; here, on the stage, it seemed only yesterday since he was -a poor famished child, earning a precarious living as best he could. He -could hardly realize that he was a strong, well-dressed young man. Once -or twice the word "Perks" leaped to his lips as a shock-headed ragged -lad ran against him; and when a little girl came up to him with "Fusees, -sir?" the face of his dead little sister seemed to flash upon him for -a moment, and he started and turned pale, then handed the child some -coppers, and patted her on the head, telling her to be a good girl. - -He now began to think it time to put in an appearance at Mr. Lawrence's -office. But he could not resist the temptation of a sail to Birkenhead -and back first. For years he had longed for the day when he would be -rich enough to afford such a luxury; that day had come at last, and the -wish should be gratified; and surely, as he floated across the broad -placid river and back again, no child ever felt half so delighted with a -new toy as did he. - -Mr. Lawrence was pleased to see that our hero had arrived, and offered -him the option of a few days' holiday before he settled down to the -desk. But Benny said he would be quite ready for work on the following -morning; he only wanted to see Joe Wrag and granny, and he thought he -would be able to find them before the day closed, and he knew that he -should be happier at work than doing nothing. - -Benny's next move was to make inquiries of the police as to what streets -were being repaired; and, having been furnished with a list, he waited -until half-past five, and then went in search of his old friend. But -Joe was not so easily found as he had imagined. He went from one street -to another until his list was exhausted; but all the watchmen were -strangers to him, and he began to fear that his old friend was either -dead, or that failing health and strength had compelled him to retire -from his occupation. Benny now began to consider what he was to do next, -for he had not the remotest idea in what part of the town Joe lived, if -indeed he were still living. - -At length it occurred to him that very likely the watchmen knew each -other, and that if he were to inquire of one of them he might get -some idea of Joe's whereabouts. With Benny to think was to act very -frequently; so he walked up to an old man who was keeping watch in the -street in which he then found himself, and put the question at once. - -"Do you know an old man by the name of Joe Wrag?" - -"Oh, ay, very well." - -"Then perhaps you could tell me where I might find him." - -"In course I could. If you keep down Old Hall Street for haaf a mile, -you'll tumble over him, unless yer mind where yer goin'." - -"Much obliged." And off Benny started with a very much lighter heart -than he had five minutes before. It was a warm July evening, and Benny -espied the old man long before he got to him, sitting on a block of -wood outside his hut, apparently buried in thought. - -For a moment or two Benny stood before him without speaking, and Joe -seemed utterly unconscious of his presence. Six years seemed to have -passed very lightly over the old man's head. Benny could detect no -change in his features; he did not look a day older than he did the last -time he saw him. - -At length Benny said, in a hesitating tone of voice, "Good evening, Mr. -Wrag." - -Joe started, but scarcely lifted his eyes to the intruder; then -answered, after a pause, - -"I'm none so much mister, as I knows on; I'm only plain Joe Wrag." - -"This is a nice time of the year for you watchmen," said Benny, not -knowing exactly what to say. - -"Yes, it's purty fair; we don't git bothered quite so much wi' the -youngsters as we do in the winter." - -"And so the children bother you in the winter, do they?" - -"Well, I don't know they bother me so much, arter all; only they like -the fire, yer see, when the weather's cold." - -"Just so; you'll get to know a great many children, I should think?" - -"Oh, ay, a goodish few." - -"Did you ever know a lad called Benny Bates?" - -"Ay, yes, poor lad, I should think I did," said Joe, with a sigh; "an' -his little sister too, purty little hangel; she's safe enough, thank -God. She's wi' the Lord in heaven, but where the poor lad is the Lord -only knows." - -"Lost, then, is he?" - -"Oh, ay, poor bairn, poor persecuted lad; falsely accused he wur, an' it -seemed to break his 'eart; he's never been heard of since." - -"Do you think you would know him if he were to come back again?" - -"Ay, I should know 'im among a thousand," said the old man, still -keeping his eyes on the ground. - -"Then look at me, Joe, and say if you know me." - -Instantly he rose to his feet, and, coming close to Benny, looked -straight in his face. Then raising his hands to heaven, he cried out, "O -Lord of mercy!" and fell upon Benny's neck and wept. - -We will not tire the reader with repeating the conversation that passed -between Joe and Benny that night. Each had a hundred things to say to -each other, and each a hundred questions to ask. Darkness had crept -over the earth, and the great town was silent and still, ere Benny left -Joe's hut; and when at length he took his departure, Joe watched him -until he had disappeared in the gloom, then looking up into the now -star-lighted sky, he clasped his hands together, while the tears ran -down his weatherbeaten cheeks, and cried out, "Now, Lord, lettest Thou -Thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen Thy salvation." - -Next day Benny settled down to work with a fixed determination to do his -duty, and to make his way in the world if it could be honestly done. The -same truthfulness and perseverance, and diligence and honesty that had -characterized him for so many years still marked his life, and raised -him month by month and year by year in the estimation of his employer -and in the estimation of all with whom he came in contact. According to -promise he spent his Christmas at Scout Farm, to the delight of little -Winnie and of all the other members of the household, and returned to -town feeling all the better for a week's rest. - -When Benny had been in Liverpool about two years, a case that was tried -at the assizes created considerable interest. The prisoner was found -guilty of burglary and manslaughter, and sentenced to twenty-one years' -penal servitude. In reading an account of the trial, Benny was struck -with the names of the prisoner, John Cadger, _alias_ Peeler, _alias_ -Perks. Could it be the Perks that he had known? So interested was he in -this question that he determined to find out if possible; and, after -some difficulty he was permitted to visit the prisoner in his cell, -previous to his removal to Dartmoor. - -Benny's first glance at the shock head and sinister face convinced him -that his worst fears were realized. For a moment he was unable to speak, -then summoning up all his courage, he held out his hand, saying, "I'm -very sorry to see you here, Perks." - -"Who are you?" snarled Perks, with a terrible oath. - -"Do you not know me?" said Benny. - -"No! I only know you b'longs to the gentry tribe that are always down on -poor chaps like us." - -"You are mistaken there, Perks; I am Benny Bates." - -"You!" he said in astonishment, eyeing him from head to foot. "Then you -must 'ave got mighty 'igh in the perfeshun. I could never dress like -that." - -"I am not in the profession, as you call it," said Benny. - -"Not in it?" - -"No." - -"Do you mean to say you've kep' honest all these years?" - -"Yes, I have." - -"An' kep' in Liverpool?" - -"No." And Benny told him where he had been. - -"Jist so; you'd a-been bound to take up the perfeshun if you 'ad kep' -here." - -"I don't think so." - -"I'm sure on it. Look 'ere: do you 'member that chat we 'ad that night -I skeered yer so? Oh, lor!" And Perks laughed till the tears ran down -his face. "Well, Ben, I tried bein' honest arter I got out o' quad that -time. I did for sure, jist by way of speriment; but lor! 't were no -use,--I was nearly starved, an' I 'ad to take up the bizness agin or -else die." - -"But why did not you do as I did?" - -"Never thought on it, and shouldn't a-'ad pluck enough to hacted it out -if I 'ad." - -Then Benny talked seriously to Perks about his sin, and about the -everlasting future beyond the grave; told him also about a loving -Saviour, who was ready to forgive the vilest, and of the happy home He -had prepared for all. - -Perks listened in silence to all Benny had to say, only remarking when -he had finished, "I wish I wur dead." - -He confessed to Benny the justice of his sentence, though he would -insist upon it that society had made him what he was, and was to some -degree responsible for his wickedness. - -To Benny the interview was a very painful one, and he felt it a relief -when he found himself once more outside the prison walls. They never met -again. In less than three years Perks was summoned to appear before a -higher tribunal, to answer for the deeds done in the body. - -Benny had no sooner got settled in Liverpool than he sought out his -old Sunday school, and became a teacher there; and often he told to the -ragged and neglected children that he gathered around him the story of -his life, and pointed out a bright future that might be theirs if they -would be industrious, truthful, and honest. Once during each summer -he made it a point of taking his class to Eastham Woods, knowing from -his own experience what a joy it would be to the poor boys to breathe -the fresh air, listen to the song of birds, and run races on the mossy -sward. Benny was never idle. The one aim of his life was to do good, to -be "rich in good works;" and grandly he succeeded. His name in many a -home was like "ointment poured forth," and young and old blessed him for -his kindly words and kindlier deeds. - - * * * * * - -And now what shall we more say? for tales must end while lives run on. -Years--I need not say how many--have passed away since Benny again -took up his abode in Liverpool. He is now partner with Mr. Lawrence, -in a business that has become more prosperous than ever. He lives in a -beautiful house of his own, and the angel that years ago brightened his -childhood now brightens his home; and sometimes on winter evenings he -gathers his children around his knee, and shows them a shilling still -bright and little worn, and tells them how their mother gave it to him -when she was a little girl, and he a poor, ragged, starving boy upon -the streets; tells them how, by being honest, truthful, and persevering, -he had worked his way through many difficulties, and how, by the -blessing and mercy of God, he had been kept until that day. And Ben, the -eldest lad, thinks how he will be brave and true like his father, and so -grow up to be an honourable man. - -Here, then, we will end our story--a story that contains more truth than -fiction--and hope that the young people who may read it may learn the -lesson we have aimed to teach, and so be helped to the cultivation of -those virtues that will yield them in this world "a hundredfold more, -and in the world to come life everlasting." - - -THE END. - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Her Benny, by Silas Kitto Hocking - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HER BENNY *** - -***** This file should be named 43325.txt or 43325.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/3/3/2/43325/ - -Produced by Clare Graham and Marc D'Hooghe at -http://www.freeliterature. 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