Taking Tales, Instructive and Entertaining Reading, by W. H. G. Kingston. 

________________________________________________________________________This book is a collection of six tales. Originally each of these waspublished as a separate book, at a low price. Each story was full ofinterest, and the intention was that the families of England would sitdown as a family to read and discuss the story. 

In this collection we have a story about an English country miller; aboy who goes to sea; a family who settle in Canada; a boy who joins thearmy and serves in the Crimea and in the Indian Mutiny; an Australianshepherd; and lastly, but far from least, a little boy who has to workdown a coal mine. 

If you read any of these stories you too will find yourself with plentyof new thoughts. Perhaps you are glad that life nowadays does not makesuch demands on very young boys. 

________________________________________________________________________TAKING TALES, INSTRUCTIVE AND ENTERTAINING READING, BY W. H. G. KINGSTON. 

STORY ONE, CHAPTER 1. 

THE MILLER OF HILLBROOK. 

There are all sorts of mills: some go by water, undershot or overshot;but if the millpond is dry, or the stream runs low, they come to astandstill. They want help, they must have water, to go on. Next thereare steam-mills, which make a great noise and do a great deal of work;but they want coals and water too: if both are not brought to them, theystop and can do nothing. And then there are wind-mills; but everybodyknows that wind-mills, though they do stand on the tops of hills, inspite of their great long arms stuck out, are of no use if the wind doesnot blow. So a man may try to do a great deal of work; but if he triesto get on without the help of his neighbours, and without being willingto help them in return, he will soon find that he too has to come to astandstill. Yes, young or old, rich or poor, must all help each other. Once there came on earth a great Person, great though poor, acarpenter's son. He only stayed a short time, but all that time He wentabout doing good to men, helping His fellows; and He died that He mighthelp all men still more, and in a way no other person could have helpedthem. He came to die, because all men have sinned. He came also toshow men how to live--how to act one towards another. 

Mark Page, the Miller of Hillbrook, owned a wind-mill on the top of aknoll just above the village. His house and sheds for his carts andhorses stood below it, and round it were some fields which were his; soit will be seen that he was well to do in the world. He had a wife anda son and a daughter, and he ought to have been a happy man; but he wasnot. Things seemed never to go quite right with Mark. Either there wastoo much wind, or too little wind. If there was little wind he was sureto cry out for more, but once; and then he would have given his mill andhis house and fields to have got the wind not to blow. About that Iwill tell by-and-by. 

Sometimes the miller sang--

 "When the wind blows, Then the mill goes: When the wind drops, Then the mill stops. "

But he was wont to growl out, "The wind is sure to drop when I have mostgrist to grind--just to spite me. "

Hillbrook was a nice spot. There was the brook which ran out of thehill, fresh and pure, right through the village. There was not waterenough to turn a mill, but enough to give the people right good water todrink and to cook with. It is a sad thing not to have good water. Badwater, from ponds, or ditches, or wells near drains, makes many peopleill, and kills not a few. The people of Hillbrook prized their goodwater. They said, "we have good water and pure air, and now what wehave to do is to keep our cottages clean and we shall be well. " Theydid keep the floors and the walls of their cottages clean, but somehowfevers still came. At times, when the sun was hot, many people wereill: no one could tell how it was. 

There was a farm to let, called Hillside farm. No one would take it, for it was said that the land was cold and wet, and too open. At lastone Farmer Grey came to see it. The rent was low, the terms fair; "I'lltake it on a long lease, " he said; "and if God wills it, ere many yearsgo by, it will yield good crops. " Farmer Grey soon gave work to manyhands, he paid good wages too, and was always among his men to see thateach man did his proper work. He put deep down in the ground miles andmiles of drain pipes, it was said. 

Hillside was next to the Mill farm. When Mark Page saw the tons andtons of dung of all sorts, chalk, and guano, which comes from over thesea, put on the land, he said that Farmer Grey had put more gold on itthan he would ever get out of it. Farmer Grey said, "Bide a bit, neighbour, and we shall see. "

Farmer Grey heard some people one day talk about their good water andfine air and clean cottages, and yet that fevers came to the place. Sohe went into the village, and walked from cottage to cottage: "Lookhere, what is this hole for?" he asked one; "I must hold my nose while Istand near it. Why it's just under the room where some of you sleep!"

"Oh, that's just a hole where we empty slops, and throw in cabbagestalks and dirt of all sorts, " said the good woman; "we take it outsometimes to spread on the garden. "

"Now hear me, dame, " said Farmer Grey, "that hole is just a nest sure tohatch a fever some day; drain it off, fill it up, and dig a new one atthe end of the garden, and take care that none of the drainings run intoyour brook. "

"Why is this green ditch close under your window, dame?" he asked ofanother. 

"Why you see, farmer, it is there, it has always been there, and it's sohandy just to empty the slops and such-like dirt, " said the dame; "to besure it does smell bad sometimes, but that can't be helped. "

"Hear me, dame, " said Farmer Grey, "I have a notion that God lets badsmells come out of such muck just to show us that if we breathe themthey will do us harm; the bad air which comes out of the muck mixes withthe air we are always taking into our insides, and that makes us ill. You had one child die last summer of fever, and one is now ill. Nowjust do you get your good man to drain that off when he comes home, andtell him that he need not come to work till after breakfast to-morrow, or noon, if he has not done it. "

In another cottage a drain full of filth ran right under the floor. Acesspool was close to a fourth cottage. In several the floors wereclean; but all sorts of filth had dropped through and stayed there, andwhen it rained the water ran under the floor. "Just lift up a plank, "said Farmer Grey; it was done, and he stuck his stick into a foot ormore of black mud. 

"Bad air--gas it is called--comes out of that stuff. That's what bringsfevers and kills the children, " he said. "Oh, my friends, you must getrid of all these things if you wish to have health. " The people inHillbrook liked Farmer Grey; they knew that he wished them well, and thewise ones did what he told them. The cholera at last came to England. No one was ill in those cottages near which the cesspools and greenditches and dirt holes had been filled up; but five or six died in thecottages where they were left, and the stuff from them mixed with thewater they drank. Then people saw that Farmer Grey was right. 

Somehow Mark Page did not like him, nor did Mistress Page, his wife, norhis son, young Ben Page; they all spoke an ill word of him when theycould. Only Mary Page, of all in the house, would never do so. Marywas not like the rest in the miller's house, she was sweet and kind. She had been to a school where she had learned what was good and right, and what God loved her to do. Mark Page said that the water which ranoff Farmer Grey's land came on to his and did it harm. "I can proveit, " he said. "Once my crops were as good as any which grew on thatland. Now look you here, his crops are as fine as you would wish tosee, and mine are not half as good. I'll see if I can't turn the waterback again. " Farmer Grey wished to make a road through his farm, andover some wild land, where, in winter, the carts often stuck fast. There was no lack of gravel, but he had of course to drain the ground, and then by just making the road round--that is, the middle higher thanthe sides--the water ran off on both sides, and the road was as hard asstone. 

"Ah! ah! see, Farmer Grey has sent the water which used to remain quieton the top of the hill right down over my land, just to make his ownroad, as if a road was of use up there, " said Mark Page. "I'll berevenged on him some day, that I will. " These words were told to FarmerGrey. "Will he?" he said; "Then I will heap coals of fire on his head, and try which will win the day. "

"What can he mean?" asked one or two of those who heard him: "That's notlike how Farmer Grey is wont to speak. Does he mean that he will burnhis house over his head?"

No, no; Farmer Grey did not mean that. He meant that he would do somany kind acts to Mark Page that he would soften his heart. These wordsare in the Bible. In the land where the Bible was written by God'sorder, when people want to soften any hard meat, they put it into a potwith a top and put the pot into a hole full of hot coals, and then theypile more hot coals over the top, so that all parts of the pot are hot;so that to heap coals of fire on a man's head has come to mean, tosoften his heart by many kind deeds--heaping them upon his head. 

Mark Page did not know what a kind man Farmer Grey was. The miller hada man to help in the mill, Sam Green by name. There is a saying, "Likemaster, like man. " Sam was very like the miller--may be worse. Sam wasa man of few words, the miller did not speak much--young Ben was likehis father. One night the talk was about the new road. "Why not go anddig it up?" asked young Ben Page. "Best thing to do, " growled out SamGreen. It was moonlight, so they all three went out with spades andpicks to the road. "Where shall we dig, father?" asked Ben. The millerlooked about; his farm was on the left of the road. "Stop these two orthree drains here, " he said, as he struck his spade on the left side. "But it seems to me that most of the water runs to the right, off intothe brook; still I don't see what cause Farmer Grey had to go and makethis road. " The next day, Farmer Grey rode by and saw where the drainshad been stopped. He might have known who did it. He said not a word, but sent a man to put them to rights. 

STORY ONE, CHAPTER 2. 

The more harm the miller tried to do to James Grey, the more he wishedto do. When he could, he or Ben or Sam let his cows into the farmer'sfields; and much mischief they did. Ben, too, who might often be metwith a gun in his hands, shot the farmer's game, and his rabbits andpigeons. 

One day, a fine dog the farmer was very fond of, came into one of MarkPage's fields. Mark had a gun in his hand, and shot the dog. FarmerGrey met Mark soon after this. 

"You shot my dog, Trust, I am told, " said the farmer. 

"Your dog came after my rabbits, " said Mark. 

"Friend, did I say one word to man or boy when your son not only came tomy fields, but shot well-nigh half a score of my rabbits and my hares?"asked the farmer. "You know he came. "

"I shoot all dogs that come to my fields, " said Mark, walking on, withhis eyes on the ground, and a frown on his brow. He did not speak muchthat day when he got home. In the evening there was a breeze, and themill went round and round quite rapidly. "I'll not give in, " he said toSam Green, as they sat on the steps of the mill, while the grist theyhad just put in was grinding. "Hold on to the last; that's what I say. Farmer Grey wants to come it strong over me; but I'll not let him. "

"All right, master; stick to that, " said Sam Green. 

"So I will. He shan't come it over me; that he shan't, " growled themiller. 

 "`When the wind blows Then the mill goes; When the wind drops, Then the mill stops. '

 "`I care for nobody--no, not I, If nobody cares for me. '"

"That's it, master; that's what I call the right thing; just properpride, " said Sam, the miller's man. 

Poor Ben Page had a poor chance of being well brought up by such a manas Mark Page, with such a friend as Sam Green. Mrs Page, too, hismother, did not know how to teach him what was right, for she did notcare to do what was right herself. She just did what she liked best, not what was right. She ought to have known, for she had her Bible, andtime to read it; but she did not read it, neither Sundays nor week-days. 

If we read the Bible only on Sunday, we pass more than three hundreddays each year, on which days we do not learn what we ought to do inthis life, or how we are to go to heaven. 

Mary read her Bible every day, and she used to tell Ben what she hadread, and to try very hard to get him to give up his bad ways. Butthough he loved her, yet he went on just the same. Now and then hewould stay at home, and not go to the ale-house, or out with his gun atnight, and sit and talk to Mary, or hear her read; but next day it wasjust as bad as ever. Off he would go, and, may be, come home drunk, orwith some hares or other game, which showed what he had been about. Themiller only said, "Ben, Ben, take care. " And Ben laughed, and said, "Don't fear; I'll not be found out. " And he packed up the game, andsent it off to London. 

It seemed sure that Ben would come to a bad end, if he was to go on inthis way. Mark Page did not know what the Bible says: "Train up a childin the way he should go; and when he is old, he will not depart fromit. " (Proverbs chapter 22, verse 6). But Mark trained up his child inthe way he should not go; and what could he think but that, when he wasold, he would not depart from it? that is to say, from the way he shouldnot go. Ben Page's mother let him do just, what he liked; she beat him, to be sure, when she was angry, but that was not for his good, and thatBen soon found out. If he was quiet, and did not break any of herthings, she did not scold him. 

Ben was a bad boy, but a worse man. His friends were wild and bad, andhe soon broke all the laws of God and man. He was sure to bring griefto the heart of his father and his mother; yet what could they hope forelse?

Farmer Grey had no wife nor child, but a brother of his died and lefthis only son to the farmer's care. Young James Grey was quite a youngman when he came to Hillside. He was a fine, tall lad, with a kind, good face, and people who saw him said that they were sure they shouldlike him. There was no pride in him, it seemed, for he went about thevillage and talked to those he met in a pleasant way, which won allhearts. He was to help his uncle on the farm, it was said, though hedid not look much like a farmer. His hands were fair, and his cheeksand brow showed that he had not been out much in the sun. 

James Grey had not been long at Hillside, when one day, as he passed themill, he saw Mary Page at the door of her house, on her way to hang upsome clothes to dry on the green. He passed more than once that day, and each day that he could, and he felt quite sad if he did not see MaryPage. 

Mary Page soon found out who he was; and one day he stopped and spoke toher, and soon they were great friends. Mistress Page was glad to seehim come to the house, for she thought that his uncle was rich, and thathe would make a good husband for Mary. The miller, too, thought that hewould make a good son-in-law. So James Grey was asked in, and soonfound himself quite at home. Ben Page was glad to see James, for hesaid, "he may some day be a friend in need to me. " Ben also found him agood-natured, good-tempered young man, who would not say No to what hewas asked to do. The very thing for which Ben liked James was one ofJames' great faults; he could not say No to what he was asked to do; ifit was wrong or if it was right he did not stop to think, it seemed thesame to him. If he was asked to do wrong, he did wrong; if he was askedto do right, and it was what he liked, he did right. Still it could notbe said that James Grey was a bad young man--not at all--he was what wascalled a good young man. He was well-behaved, and joined in publicworship, and seldom got drunk; he might have been so once or twice, butthen he was quiet, it was not known. He did not swear, and was civil toall people. There was one thing James wanted. It was religion. He didnot care to please God, though he read the Bible and said his prayers. James knew that his uncle. Farmer Grey, did not think well of MarkPage. So James did not tell the farmer that he went to Mark Page'shouse, and that he loved Mary Page, and thought that he would ask her tobe his wife some day. If he had told his uncle what he wished, thefarmer would have said, "If Mary Page is a good girl, though I cannotthink well of her father and her mother, she shall be your wife if youwish it and she wishes it. "

But James did not say a word of Mary to his uncle, and the farmer didnot think that James even knew her. Mary thought very well of James. He seemed to her a good young man, and much more steady than Ben. Soshe was very glad to see him when he could come to the mill, andby-and-by she gave him her whole heart; James, too, gave her his heart. Yes, he loved her, he thought, very much; but, in truth, he did not loveher by half so much as she loved him. Mary might have done James muchgood at this time if she had had him to herself; but he and Ben becamegreat friends, and Ben undid all the good she had done James, and didhim much harm. Ben took good care not to show James at first what badthings he did. He talked of others getting drunk, and said there was nogreat harm in it, and then he said how fine it was to go out with a gunat night and kill game, and what bold chaps did that sort of thing; andthen he went on to boast of all sorts of bad things which he did. 

Now if James had been wise he would not have stopped to hear all this, but would have said, "I am sure that is bad, and harm must come of it, "and would have kept out of Ben's way. When a bad person tries to makeanother do ill, the only safe plan for the other is to keep out of thebad person's way. James did not do that, and more than once he wentwith Ben to the ale-house and got drunk. From the first day James didthis, Ben made him do just what he liked. James went out shooting atnight with Ben--that is, poaching; he was often at the ale-house withhim, and in bad company, and many other evil things they did together. 

Poor Mary did not know this, but thought rather that James would do goodto Ben, and lead him right. She had to learn the sad truth that all menare prone to do ill, and that the bad are more apt to lead than to beled. 

Still it must not be said that James was quite lost to all sense of whatwas right. He often wished that he had not been led to do some of thethings that he did do. More than once he said to Ben, "Ben, I know thatis bad; I will not go with you. "

Then Ben would laugh at him and say, "You know that is bad! That's veryfine; but you know that there are other things much worse by a long way. Come on; don't go and say No when I ask you. "

James would stand and think, and say to himself, "Where's the harm, justfor this once? I don't like not to please Ben, and when I marry MaryI'll give it up, and all will be right. "

So James went on from bad to worse, for he had not got in his heartfaith in God or love to Christ. 

Mark Page did not mind James doing the bad things he did with Ben, forhe said, "If the two get into a scrape, Farmer Grey must get Ben out ofit for the sake of his nephew. Young men must sow their wild oats, andmay be he won't make the worse husband to Mary for it. "

All this time Mark Page did not love Farmer Grey more than at first. Not a day passed that he did not say something against him, or dosomething to do him harm. 

Farmer Grey knew this, but did not say an ill word to Mark. If he methim it was always in a kind voice he said, "Good day, Mark Page. Goodday, miller. Fine breeze for the mill. No lack of grist, I hope; Ishall soon have some for you. Shall be glad to send my corn to yourmill. "

"What can he want of me? I can do him no good;" growled the miller ashe walked on. 

STORY ONE, CHAPTER 3. 

It would have been a good thing for Mark Page if Sam Green had left him. When Mark thought of doing anything bad, there was Sam at hand to say, "Go on; no harm; you have a right to do what you like. No man shouldtell me what I ought to do; that I know. "

Sam was a stupid fellow too, as are many bad people, and it seemedstrange that he did not get into more scrapes than he did. He hatedFarmer Grey even more than did Mark Page. Why, it would have been hardto say, except just for this cause, that Sam was a bad man and thefarmer was a good one. 

The sails of the mill had been going round and round for many a day, andhundreds of sacks of grist had been ground, when one night Mark wasroused from his sleep by the sound of the wind howling round the house. 

"I made all right and snug at the mill, " he thought; "there is no use toget up and look to it. " Still the wind went on howling through thewindows and doors, and the window-panes shook and rattled, and the doorscreaked, and it seemed at times as if the house would come down. 

"Will the mill stand it?" asked Mark of himself. He tried to go tosleep again, but he could not. He thought and he thought of all sortsof things which he could not drive out of his head. 

When a good man thinks at night, his thoughts may often be pleasant; butwhen a bad man thinks, and thinks, as did Mark Page, in spite ofhimself, his thoughts are very sad and full of pain. 

Mark thought of the many bad things he had done. There was not one gooddeed he could think of. "If I was to die where should I go to?" heasked himself. "If my mill was to be blown down, who would pity me?What friends have I? What have I done to gain friends? Not one thing. I am not kind to the poor; I do not give anything to help them. No oneloves me; no one cares for me. My son does not; he never does what Iask him. My wife does not, she never cares to please me. Mary does, may be; but then she looks at me as if she wished that I was differentto what I am. Oh I do wish the day would come, that I might get up andgo about my work and not think of all these things. "

Still the wind howled and moaned and whistled, and the doors and windowsrattled, and the rain came down, pat, pat, pat, on the roof, and thewater rushed by the house in torrents, and the walls shook as if theywould come down. 

"Oh if the roof was to fall in and kill me!" thought the miller: "whereshall I be to-morrow?" At last the noises ceased, and sleep shut themiller's eyes. When he awoke the storm was over. He looked out to seeif any harm had come to his mill. There it stood, the long arms stuckout just as usual. He was soon dressed. On his way to the mill hecalled Sam Green. When they got near they found that the wind had doneharm to some of the sails of the mill, which were stretched on the longarms. 

"Sam, before the mill can go we must mend these sails, " said the miller. "Go to the house and get the tools; you and I can do it. "

"Yes, master, " said Sam. "It would be a rum mill-sail I couldn'ttackle. "

Sam brought the tools, and he and Mark Page went into the mill. Theyfound that the storm had done some harm to the inside of the mill, andthat two or three things were out of place. They soon put them rightthough, as they thought, and then they set to work to mend the sails. They had much grist to grind, and they were in a hurry; so the millerclimbed along one of the arms with the tools he wanted, and Sam wentalong another. There was a nice breeze--not much--but it seemed as ifit would get stronger and stronger. So they worked on as fast as theycould, that they might soon get the sails mended and the mill going. 

There they were, the miller and his man, out at the end of those longarms high up in the air. Few people would have wished to have changedplaces with them. 

"Make haste, Sam, " cried the miller from his perch. "It's a tough job Ihave got here. I shall want your help. "

"All right, master, I shall soon be done, " said Sam, and he worked on. 

"Hallo, Sam, what are you about, man?" cried the miller on a sudden. 

"Nothing, master, " said Sam, hammering away. 

"Nothing! nothing?" cried out the miller, at the top of his voice. "Whythe mill is moving. Stop it, man; stop it. "

"I can't stop it, master, nor any man either, " shrieked out Sam, as thelong arms of the mill began to move round and round. 

"Hold on to the last, then, " cried the miller; "it is your only chance. "

"I can't, master; I can't, " cried Sam, near dead with fright. 

The miller clutched round the arm with all his might. Sam went roundonce. It was more than he could bear; as the arm to which he clungneared the ground, he let go. Of course he was dashed with great forceto the ground. Had his head struck it, he would have been killed; buthis legs came first. One leg was broken, and there he lay not able toget up and help his master, and almost dead with fear as the long armsswept round and round above his head. 

Still the miller held on. He shut his eyes, for he dared not look atthe ground, which he seemed to be leaving for ever; and he felt that themill was going faster and faster each moment. He knew too that he wasgrowing weaker and weaker, and that the time would soon come when hecould hold on no longer, and that he must be dashed with force on theground and killed. What could save him? Sam lay helpless on theground. 

"Oh, I shall be killed; I shall be killed, " he thought. "Help! help!"

From whom was help to come? He could not pray; he never prayed when helay down at night, when he got up in the morning. He could not pray toGod now. Who else could help him! No human being was likely to seehim, for his wife and son and daughter were still in bed, and few peoplepassed that way. His breath grew short, his heart seemed as if it didnot beat. 

"Oh! oh! my last moment is come, and I must soon stand before that God Ihave seldom thought of, never prayed to in this life. Where must I go?where must I go? I will lead a better life if I am saved. I will! Iwill!"

Just then he heard a cheerful voice cry out, "Well done, Mark: hold on, hold on; we'll stop the mill soon for you. "

The words were spoken by the man whom Mark Page said he hated more thanany other man on earth, --his neighbour, Farmer Grey. Farmer Grey hadbeen riding round his farm in the cool of the morning, when, looking uptowards the mill, he saw Mark Page and his man Sam Green at work on thearms. Then, as he looked, the arms began to go round and round withMark on them. 

Farmer Grey, on this, dashed up the hill at a gallop, jumped from hishorse and rushed up the steps into the mill to try and stop the arms. He had been a few times in a wind-mill, and knew something about theworks. At great risk though of hurting himself, he seized what hethought was the right crank to make the mill stop. His wish was to stopthe mill just as the arm to which the miller clung rose above theground. His heart beat as he watched for the proper moment. It waslife or death to the miller. If he stopped it too soon Mark might bedashed to the ground; if he waited till it rose too far he would bethrown up in the air and have a heavy fall. Farmer Grey watched; theright moment came, he stopped the mill, then fast as he could move heran down the steps, and was in time to receive Mark Page in his arms ashe fell without sense from the arm to which he had till that momentclung. Had the miller gone but one round more, he must have dropped, and would surely have been killed. 

Farmer Grey undid his neckcloth, and got some water and bathed his face;but it was some time before the miller came to himself. When he did, the first words he said, when he opened his eyes, were, "Well; I did notthink, Farmer Grey, that you would have done this for me. "

"Why not, neighbour Page?" asked the farmer, with a smile. "I saw afellow-man in danger, and of course I ran to help him. I am very gladthat God has let me save your life. Give God the praise. Raise yourvoice to Him for that and all His other mercies. "

"Yes, farmer, I will try, " said Mark Page; "I have been a bad man all mylife, and I don't like to think where I should have been by this time ifyou had not come to save me. "

"It is the way to amend; the first step I may say, to find out and ownthat we are bad; so, neighbour, I am truly glad to hear you own that youare bad, " said Farmer Grey. "But I must not let you talk now. Come, wemust help your man there. He seems to be badly hurt. "

"He wouldn't hold on to the last, as I told him, " said Mark. 

"Well, Sam; what harm has come to you?"

"Broken a leg, to my belief;" growled out Sam. 

Farmer Grey found that Sam had indeed, as he said, broken a leg. Markwas now able to get up and walk, and he went to the house to call hisson. Ben had been out till late, and had come home wet, and did notlike to be called up. 

"Sam Green has broken his leg. Come down quickly I say, " cried outMark. 

"Let him sit still and mend it, while I put on my clothes, " said Benfrom the window. 

Farmer Grey heard him. "That young man will, I fear, not come to a goodend, " he thought. "When I hear a man laugh at the pain or grief ofothers, I am sure that his heart is not right towards God or towards hisfellow-man. "

Ben at last came out and got a hurdle, and he and his father, withFarmer Grey, put Sam Green on it, and bore him to the house. Sam criedout that they were killing him; so when Farmer Grey heard this he puthis hand under Sam's leg, and spoke to him just as kind and soft as ifhe had been a little child. Sam did not say anything, but he ceased togrowl, or to cry out that he was hurt. Mary had heard her father callout, and she was at the door when they got there. Farmer Grey had notbefore this spoken to her. He now watched her as she went about thehouse, making ready the bed in the spare room for poor Sam, and heardher speak so gently and so kind to him. 

"That is a good girl, " he thought. "Can she be the miller's daughter?If so, she seems very unlike Mark and his son. I must see more of her. "

As soon as Sam was placed on the bed, Ben was sent off to fetch thesurgeon to set his leg. 

"Tell him that I beg he will make haste, for the poor man is in greatpain, " said Farmer Grey, as Ben got on his horse. 

"I will just break my fast with you, miller, that I may help poor Sam, "said Farmer Grey. "We must get his trousers cut open, and his bootsoff; and it may be we shall have to cut them off also. It does not doto pull at a broken leg. "

Sam did not at all like to have his trousers cut open or his boot cutoff: "Hold, hold!" he cried out. "Why I gave twelve and sixpence forthose boots only the week before last, and I will not have them spoilt. "

"Which is best, friend Sam, to lose your leg or perhaps your life, or tolose a boot, for it is not a pair? What is a boot compared to a man'sleg? A boot will wear out in a few months; his leg is to last him forhis life. And let me ask you, what is a man's sin, his favourite sin, which he can retain at best but for his life, compared to his soul, which will last for ever? No man can get rid of his soul. He cannotput it out as he can a light. Do what he can, it will last for ever. "

"O sir, don't go and talk in that way, " cried out Sam; "I don't likeit--I can't bear it. "

"Well, well, friend, I will not talk more to you now on the matter, "said Farmer Grey. "Some day you may like to hear more. "

"May be, may be--oh! oh! oh!" Sam Green groaned with pain. 

At last the surgeon came, and set Sam's leg. He shook hands with FarmerGrey. "I wish that we had more like you, " he said to the farmer. "Iknew when it was you sent for me, that some one was really hurt. Theman will get well, I hope, and his leg will be of good use to him if hekeeps quiet and does not fret. " The surgeon said he would call again inthe evening, and went away. 

"Now, Sam, we will let your wife and family know, that they may come andsee you, " said Farmer Grey. 

"Much obliged, sir; but I have no wife, and no family, except onedaughter; and she is married, and lives with her husband, and has herchildren to look after, and does not care for me, " said Sam. 

"We won't think that of her, " said the farmer. "I will let her knowwhat has happened to you. May be, you would like to have one of herchildren with you. "

Sam looked pleased for the first time, and said, "Well, sir, there is alittle chap--my grandchild--I should like to have him now and then withme. They call him Paul, Tiny Paul. He is a merry little fellow, andhe'd keep me from getting low. "

"Well, we'll try and send Tiny Paul to you, " said the farmer. "What isyour daughter's name?"

"Susan Dixon, sir, " answered Sam. "Dixon is her husband's name. He isa decent, hard-working man, and she's a good wife; but I never caredmuch for any of them, except Tiny Paul. You'll send Tiny Paul to methen, sir?"

"Yes, Sam, yes; I have promised that I will, " said Farmer Grey, thinkingto himself, "I may win over Sam Green yet. He has a soft part in hisheart, and I have found it. "

Farmer Grey had a good deal of talk with Mary before he went home. Heliked all she said, and all he saw her do. "That is a good young woman, I am sure, " he said to himself. She, too, was very grateful to him forhaving saved her father's life by his courage and presence of mind. Then, too, he was the uncle of James Grey, and she was glad that heseemed pleased with her. 

STORY ONE, CHAPTER 4. 

It would have seemed that James Grey and Mary Page had now every chanceof being made happy. So they might, if James had not got into evilways. He had not spoken of Mary to his uncle, and he did not know thatFarmer Grey had seen her, and was much pleased with her. By this hisfolly was shown. Had he been frank with his uncle, and told him all thetruth, how much better it would have been for him!

A few days after the accident at the mill, James came, as usual, to seeMary. He had a long talk with her, and said that he was so glad hisuncle now knew her, and that he was sure the farmer would let him marryher. Still he did not say that he had told his uncle he wished to doso. When he at last got up to go away, Ben followed him. 

"James, " said Ben, "I have some work for tonight. You must come. Youwill never have seen such sport in your life. There are six other chapswill join us, all true as steel. "

"No, no, Ben; I must go home, " said James. "My uncle does not like meto be out late at night, and he has heard of one or two of the things Ihave done with you. "

"That is good, " said Ben, with a sneer. "Why, I would not let my fatherorder me about as he likes; much less an uncle, I should think. Dearme, `my uncle won't let me do this, ' `my uncle won't let me do that'; anice state of things. Come, James, be a man, and come along with me. "

James never could stand Ben's sneers; so the next time Ben said, "Comealong, " he answered, "Very well; but only for this time. "

"Oh, of course, I know, " said Ben. "I don't want you to get into anyscrape, of course, lad. Come back into my room. Those clothes won'tsuit you: you must put on some of mine. We can slip out again, and mysister won't see you. "

In a short time, Ben and James stole out with their guns and shot-beltsand powder-flasks. 

"It is not near home, " whispered Ben. 

"That's a good thing, " answered James; but they spoke very little. 

They had walked two miles when they fell in with three men, who seemedto know Ben well; and soon after that they met three more. All went ontogether. James found that they were going into the park of a gentlemanwho very strictly preserved his game and had several gamekeepers. 

"Even if they meet us, they won't dare to attack us; and if they do, wecan take very good care of ourselves, " said Ben. 

The party of poachers were in search of pheasants, of which there were agreat many in the park. They knocked over one after the other, tilleach man was well loaded. James soon began to take a pleasure in thesport, and killed as many as the rest. 

They had begun to talk of going home, all well pleased with theirnight's work, when, as they were within fifty yards of the place wherethey were to leave the park, they found themselves face to face withfour keepers. 

"Stand back, and let us pass!" cried Ben Page. "We don't want to sayanything to you, and you shall not say anything to us. "

"That won't do, young man, " said the principal keeper; "you must give upall the game you have shot, and let us know your names. "

"That we won't do. Push on, Ben Page, " shouted one of the men. 

The click as of guns being cocked was heard. 

"If you fire, so do we; and we have three shots to your one, " cried Ben. "On, lads, on. "

"I know you by your voice, Master Page, " said one of the keepers. "Isee you too, now I am nearer to you. "

"If you do, take that for your pains, " exclaimed Ben, scarcely thinking, in his rage, of what he was about. The report of a gun was heard. Oneof the gamekeepers fell. The poachers dashed forward. Another keeperwas knocked over. The rest ran off to hide in the wood, thinking thatthey would all be murdered; while the poachers, without stopping to seewhat harm had been done to the fallen men, hurried out of the wood, leaving them on the ground. Bad men are often cowards; and cowards arecareless of what others suffer. 

The poachers talked very big, but their hearts sunk within them. Themost unhappy was James Grey. The others dreaded being found out andpunished. With him it was not the fear of being found out and punished, so much as the thought that he had been with those who had caused thedeath of a fellow-creature; for he made sure, from the groan the keeperuttered when he fell, that he had been killed. His conscience, neverquite at rest, even when he went with Ben Page into his worst haunts, was awakened. 

"I am just as guilty as if I had killed the man with my own hand, " hesaid to himself. "And may be the other man will die too; for the buttend of Turner's gun came down with a fearful blow on his head, and hedropped as if shot. What shall I do? What shall I do? I will go anddeliver myself up, and confess all. I shall be hung very likely: but Iwould sooner be hung than feel that I had killed a fellow-man. "

Such were James's thoughts as he and his companions hurried towardsHillbrook. Here and there on their way the rest of the men went off totheir homes, till Ben and James were left alone. James then told Ben ofhis sorrow at what had happened, and how he thought he would givehimself up. 

"Nonsense; that will never do, " said Ben. "No one knows who fired theshot, or who knocked the other keeper down; you don't, I am sure. "

Ben knew that James did know well enough that he, Ben himself, had shotthe keeper. 

"I wish from my heart, Ben, that I did not, " said James. 

"If that is it, the only thing is to keep out of the way, " said Ben. "Now listen, James, a faint-hearted fellow is sure to peach, and out ofthe way you must keep. I say _must_--understand me. "

"I will keep out of the way, Ben, whether I must or not, " said James, ina tone of great sorrow. "You have been the ruin of me, Ben; but it wasmy own fault, I ought to have known better. "

"Nonsense, James: things are not so bad as you think, " said Ben. "Justcome in and change your clothes and go home to bed. You can get in asyou have done before, and who is to know that you were out of the houseall night? I say that you shouldn't be in too great a fright; still youmust go away for a time, till the matter has blown over. I'll think ofsome plan for you before long. "

James Grey, who had far more education than Ben Page, felt himselfcompletely in his power. 

James hurried home unseen, and got to bed. He could not sleep. Hethought over all sorts of plans. Two or three days before he had beenat the market town five miles off. He had there observed a soldier, asergeant with a number of gay coloured ribbons in his hat, beating upfor recruits, for service in India. James had stopped to listen to himas he was speaking to a group of young men who stood round with openmouths, hearing of the wonders of that distant country--the money to begot--the pleasures to be enjoyed. "Every cavalry soldier out there is agentleman, " said the sergeant. "He has at least three servants toattend on him; one to forage, one to groom his horse, and one to attendon him. "

James at the moment had thought that if it was not for Mary and hisuncle he should like to try his fortune in that far-off wonderfulcountry. The idea came back to him, if the sergeant was still there hewould enlist at once. No time was to be lost. He must be out of thecountry before he was suspected of having been one of the party whokilled the gamekeeper. He rose and dressed quickly. He put up someshirts and socks and a few other articles, and all the money he had got, and left the house before any one was up. He would much have liked tohave seen his kind uncle again, but he dared not wait till he was onfoot. There was one other person, however, whom he must see before hewent away, Mary Page. She was always an early riser he knew. He ranrather than walked to the mill-house. She opened the door as he reachedit, and came out into the garden. 

"Mary, I am going away, " he said in a hurried voice; "something hashappened, it can't be helped now though; only, Mary, I want to tell youthat I love you now, and shall love you always. Don't think ill of me, don't think me guilty; not more guilty than I am, if you hear anythingabout me. I cannot tell you more. I must not tell you. "

Mary turned pale with terror, as much from his looks as from what hesaid. He took her in his arms and kissed her, and added, "You willthink of me, I know you will. I won't ask you not to love any one else;that would be hard on you, for I don't know how long I may be away; but, if I ever do come back, Mary, and I have changed, greatly changed fromwhat I now am, I hope to ask you to be my wife. For your sake, Mary, Iwill try to grow better, to be firm, to learn to say No when tempted todo ill. That has been my ruin now, may cause my ruin for ever. "

Before Mary could answer him, --for he was not a minute with her, and shewas too much astonished at first to speak, --he had torn himself fromher, and was hurrying along the road. 

"Oh stay, oh stay, and tell me all, " she cried out; but he either didnot hear her, or would not venture to turn back. As he got out of sightof the mill he ran on as fast as his legs could carry him, though hestopped, and had to walk slowly when he saw any one coming. He had gothalfway to the town, when as he was running on he heard the sound ofhorses' hoofs behind him galloping quickly over the road. 

"Some one coming after me, " he thought. For the first time in his lifehe felt what abject fear was. His knees trembled under him, and to savehis life he could not have run farther. Still James Grey was no coward. In a good cause he could have fought as well as any man. Soon he hearda voice behind him cry out, "Jump up, James; I guessed what you wereafter. It was my idea you were going to enlist; so will I. Jump up, Isay; no time to lose. "

It was Ben Page who spoke. For some moments James scarcely understoodhim. Ben had a led horse. He threw himself into the saddle, and theywere quickly in the town, where the horses were left at a stable; Benhaving told a carter to come for them. 

The two young men then went out to look for the recruiting-sergeant. Hewas soon found. He cast his eye up and down over James, asked him a fewquestions, told him to let him see his handwriting, and at once enlistedhim. 

"If you are steady, as you look, you will be a corporal before many moremonths are over, and a sergeant soon after, " he said, with a nod ofapproval. 

A body of recruits were starting that very morning for the depot, whencethey were to embark. James was ordered to go with them. 

The sergeant was uncertain as to what regiment Ben would suit. He wasscarcely of sufficient height, and a very different looking sort of man. He promised, however, to give him an answer in the course of a fewdays. 

James was very thankful when he found that Ben was not to go with him. He thought, "He has already led me into evil; if he comes now, how shallI be able to withstand him better than I have done?"

James's heart was heavy, yet he tried to keep his spirits up among hisnew comrades. He was anxious, too: every stranger he saw looking abouthe thought might be a sheriff's officer, come to take him prisoner. Most of the men were hoping that the day they were to go on board theship might be put off: his great wish was that they might sail soonerthan had been expected. He had written a letter to his kind uncle, asking his forgiveness for what he had done, and expressing his love andgratitude to him. 

He had heard nothing from Ben. This was so far well. He could havegained nothing, if Ben had come. 

At length the day arrived for the troops to embark. The ship sailed, and bore James Grey far away from the shores of Old England. 

STORY ONE, CHAPTER 5. 

When Farmer Grey got up in the morning, and found that his nephew hadleft the house without saying where he was going, he was somewhatsurprised; but, as he thought that he would soon return, he did not givehimself much concern about the matter. 

The farmer went out among his labourers in the fields, and came back tobreakfast; but James had not returned. The farmer made inquiries amongall his people; no one had seen James. Dinner-time arrived, still hedid not appear. It was late in the day that a friend, Farmer Mason, called on Farmer Grey. "Have you heard of the murders in Sir JohnCarlton's park, last night?" asked Farmer Mason. "Two of his keeperskilled, and another wounded, I am told. Daring outrage! The murderersare known, I hear. It will go hard with them if they are taken; for themagistrates are determined to put a stop to poaching, and will show nomercy to poachers. They will do their best to prove them guilty. "

Farmer Grey's mind was greatly troubled when he heard this. He couldnot help connecting it, somehow or other, with the disappearance ofJames. 

"That wild lad, Ben Page, has had something to do with it; of that I amsure, " he said to himself. 

As soon as his guest was gone, he walked down to the mill. The millerand his wife were out. Mary was alone. He found her crying bitterly. She at once confessed that she had seen James early in the morning, andthat he told her he was going away, not to return; but that where he wasgoing to, and what he was going to do she could not tell. She was alsoanxious about her brother, who had gone away without leaving anymessage. This was the utmost information she could give. It was enoughto confirm Farmer Grey's fears. He did not tell Mary what they were. He thought it would break her heart if he did so. He could give hervery little comfort, for there was nothing he could think of to bringcomfort to his own heart, as far as his nephew was concerned. He hadlong seen that he wanted what alone can keep a man right undertemptation, that is, good principles. 

James, when he came to him, had been always respectable and decent inhis conduct; but then he had never been tempted. The farmer had beenvery anxious about him when he first found that he was so often in thecompany of Ben Page, and he now blamed himself for not having takenpains to separate the two, and still more that he had not tried harderto give James those good principles which he so much wanted. He did notthink that he had done any good to James by all he had said, but intruth the words had sunk farther into the young man's heart than hesupposed; and often and often, as James walked the deck of the ship atnight, or camped out with his comrades on many a hard-foughtbattle-field in India, those words came to his mind, and helped to keephim on a right course, --not that the words alone did so; for James, whohad been taught to pray when he was young, became a man of prayer. Yes;the dark, sun-burnt, fierce-looking soldier prayed every day, morningand night, lying down or marching, and often in the midst of battle, while bullets were flying about, shells were bursting, and round-shotwere whistling through the air. He read the Bible, too, and spoke of itto others, and guided his own steps by what it taught. Was he lessthought of because he did these things? Was he looked on as a coward?No; there was no man in the regiment more liked, and there were fewsoldiers braver than he was. 

Had his uncle and Mary known how changed a man he had become, theirhearts would have been saved many a pang. We should not think thatbecause our words do not seem to be listened to, that therefore they aredoing no good; more particularly if they are spoken in a prayerfulspirit and with an earnest desire to do good. 

"Well, Mary, I must try and find out what has become of this poor nephewof mine, " said Farmer Grey, kindly getting up and taking her hand. "Wewill hope that he will come back some day. Do not let it be known thathe came here to see you this morning; indeed, it will be better if yousay nothing about his being absent from home. Only my old housekeeper, Dame Dobbs, knows that he left home this morning, and she is able to saythat he slept in his bed last night. "

These words made poor Mary more unhappy still, for she began to thinkthat James must have done some act which had made him fly for his life, and that he might, perhaps, be taken and punished--she dared not thinkhow. Oh, how much sorrow and pain do those who act ill, cause theirfriends and those they love best on earth! Nothing that day was heardof James or Ben. On the next day, rumours of the affray between a bodyof poachers and the gamekeepers reached the mill, but neither Ben's norJames Grey's name was mentioned. Still Mary could not but feel surethat they had had something to do with the matter, though she hoped thatthey might escape. 

The miller, on hearing of the fray, and that Ben had disappeared thenext morning, sat by himself more gloomy and silent than ever. Perhapshe might have thought, "This comes of my teaching, or rather of my wantof teaching, of my bringing up. " In the evening, three stout, strong, comfortably clothed men came to the door: Mary let them in, not knowingwho they could be; Mark turned pale when he saw them. 

"Your servant, Mister Page, " said one. "Your son, Ben Page, is wanted--he knows what for. "

"My son, Ben Page, isn't at home, " answered Mark, in a much more quiettone than he used to speak in. 

"Where is he, then?" asked the man. 

Mark could not tell, nor when he would return. 

"You know then what he is wanted for, Mister Page?"

Mark bent his head, and put his fingers to his lips, that the man mightnot speak before Mary. He then told her to go out of the room and lookafter Sam Green, whom she had not visited for some time. 

"Yes; it's about the matter at Snaresborough, with the keepers, Isuppose, " said the miller. "But I don't know that he had anything to dowith it. "

"Hope not, for his sake; he'll be sooner out of limbo, " said theconstable. "But you'll excuse me, Mister Page, we must search the housefor your son; we have a couple of hands to look out outside, so he'llnot escape if he attempts it. "

Of course Mark could offer no objection to this. The constable and hiscompanions searched the house from top to bottom, looking into and underthe beds, and into every cupboard and corner to be found. Then theysearched the mill and all the outhouses, but no Ben was to be found. Mistress Page went nearly into fits when she saw them. Mary criedbitterly, her worst fears were become real. When Sam Green saw them, alook not often seen on his face came over it, as he lay on his bed ofpain--for his leg hurt him much. 

"Ah! if the lad had been better taught he wouldn't have been in thistrouble, " he said to himself. "I might have done him some good, and Inever did but harm. "

These words showed that Sam Green was changing, if not changed. Theconstables were still in the house, when a horse was heard coming alongthe road. Mary, looking out, saw that it was Ben. She waved to him togo back, but he did not see her. She tried to cry out, but her voicefailed her, and he had entered the court-yard and thrown himself fromhis saddle before he heard her warning. Then he understood thatsomething was wrong. His horse was dusty, hot, and trembling. He wasabout to leap into his saddle when one of the constables who had beenwatching outside and had seen him enter the yard, ran into it and seizedhis bridle, shouting out to his comrades in the house. 

Ben struck right and left with a heavy whip, and tried to break away;but the man held him fast. The other constables then coming out, he wassecured. Poor Mary felt as if she should die when she saw Ben seized, but she could do nothing to help him. He was brought into the house, and handcuffs were put on his wrists. 

"Now we have caged our bird we must be off, " said the chief constable. 

"Oh, treat him kindly, " said poor Mary, with the tears in her eyes. "Heis not as bad as you may think--indeed, indeed he is not. "

"Never knew one on 'em as was, " said the man. "But for your sake, miss, I'll do my best to make my young master comfortable, May be it's thefirst time he has been had up; and, if he gets off, may be it will bethe last. "

Mary could say nothing to this remark. Her mother, who had come in, wrung her hands, and cried, and then called the constables all sorts ofhard names, while the miller looked as if he would have struck them. More than once he glanced up at his gun, which hung over themantelpiece. The constable looked at him, and observed--

"Say what you like with your tongue, Mistress Page; I'm accustomed tomuch worse than that; but don't you, Mister Page, touch me--that's all. I'm in the execution of my duty--mind that. "

The miller had to curb his temper, and to say no thing, while his onlyson was carried off a prisoner. Mrs Page wrung her hands, and bewailedher hard lot. Whilst out, she had heard of the murder of thegamekeepers, and with good reason feared that Ben was guilty of thecrime. Ben did not speak. He could not say, "Rouse up, father; I amnot guilty of the crime laid to my charge. "

With handcuffs on his wrists, as a felon, he was carried off by theofficers of justice. When he was gone, the miller sat with his headbowed down, and his hands clasped between his knees. All he could saywas, "Has it come to this? has it come to this?" The miller seemed tobe really humbled and broken in spirit. 

The next day Farmer Grey called to tell Mary that he had heard fromJames, and that he was safe. More he could not tell her. She beggedhim to see her father. 

"Rouse up, neighbour, " he said in a kind voice; "you have still much todo for your son. Secure a good lawyer to defend him. The use of alawyer is not to get him off, if he is guilty, but to take care that heis not condemned unless his guilt is clearly proved. The expense willbe great. I will share it with you. "

"You are too good; I don't deserve it, Farmer Grey, " answered Mark. "And yet I would not have my son condemned, if he can be got off. "

"And I would not have him condemned, if he is not guilty, " said thefarmer. 

Farmer Grey went into the town to secure legal advice. His satisfactionwas very great to find that the gamekeeper who had been shot was notdead, and that the one who had been knocked down was in a fair way ofrecovery. Still the magistrates had committed Ben and three other mento prison; and even if the man who was shot recovered, if Ben was foundguilty, he could not expect less than a sentence of transportation forfourteen years. Still the news he had to take back to Mary was betterthan he expected. 

STORY ONE, CHAPTER 6. 

Neither Mark Page nor his man, Sam Green, had been in the habit ofattending public worship. Many years, indeed, had passed since Sam hadlast attended. Now Mark was ashamed to go, and Sam could not. They hadnot either had prayers in their families, nor did they pray privately. It seems strange that any men should think that they can get on withoutprayer. They find out their sad mistake when the day of trial comes. These two men did so; had it not been for Farmer Grey and for Mary, theywould have been badly off indeed. 

Mark Page went about the mill, as usual, and got a man to do Sam's work;but he never went outside the gates; and when he was in his own house, he sat with his head bowed down and his hands between his knees, notspeaking a word. Sam Green lay on his bed, and growled and groaned withpain, except when Tiny Paul, his grandchild, was with him; then hecheered up and spoke pleasantly, and even laughed at what the littlefellow said or did. 

Tiny Paul was a bright, merry little chap, with light curling hair andblue eyes. He would sing, and talk, and play, all day, and tellgrandfather stories, which no one but Sam himself could understand. Samsmiled when he saw Tiny Paul, but at no other time. "If I had alwayshad Tiny Paul with me, I don't think that I should have been so bad as Iam, " said Sam to himself; but Sam was wrong. Neither Tiny Paul, nor anyother human being, would have made Sam a better man than he was. It washis own evil heart was to blame; that wasn't right with God. 

The miller was one evening looking out from the window of his mill, whenhe saw in the distance a bright light in the sky. It grew brighter andbrighter, and now flames could be seen darting up out of the darkground, as it were. "It is a house on fire, " said the miller; "whosecan it be?" He thought over all the houses in that direction. In theday he would not have gone out, but at night no one would know him. Hewas curious to learn whose house was burning. It was not his way tothink how he might best assist the sufferers. So, saddling his horse, he rode out towards where he saw the fire burning. The flames lessenedas he got nearer. It was clearly only a cottage. He thought of turningback; still he went on. He soon after reached a cottage, the walls onlyof which were standing. A number of people were gathered round it. Heheard cries and exclamations of sorrow. A man had been burnt to death, and another had been much hurt. Then he heard his own name mentioned. He went a little nearer. 

"It was all that wild young Page's fault, " said some one. "If he hadn'twounded poor Thomas Harvey, so that he could not help himself, Thomaswould have fled from the cottage and not have been burnt to death. Andhis poor wife, too; they say she'll not recover. " The miller durst asknothing further, but, turning his horse's head, rode back to his home. 

The day of Ben's trial came at last. He was well defended, but one ofthose who were with him turned king's evidence, and swore to his havingfired the shot which struck Thomas Harvey. It was proved, however, thatThomas Harvey did not die of his wound, as the surgeon was of opinionthat he was getting well when the cottage in which he lived had caughtfire and he was burned to death. Did he then die of his wound, or washis death caused by the fire? Had he been well, it was argued, he mighthave escaped, as did the rest of those living in the cottage; but as itwas, his wife and a friend nearly lost their lives in trying to savehim. 

The trial took up the whole day. Some were of opinion that Ben Page wasguilty, and that he would be condemned to be hung. Still, as it was notquite certain that Thomas Harvey died by his hand, he gained the benefitof the doubt, and was condemned to be transported for fourteen years. Some thought his punishment light, but they little knew what hissentence meant in those days. The miller and his wife were thankfulthat their son was not to be hung. They were allowed to see Ben beforehe was sent off. They would not have known him in his yellow dress, andwith his hair cropped short, and chains on his arms and legs. Thissight caused them more grief than even the thought that he was to besent away from them for so many years. Poor Mary also went to see him. He shocked her by the way he spoke of those who had tried him, and atJames Grey for leaving him in the lurch. Mary was thankful to find thatJames's name had not once been mentioned during the trial, and that hewas not suspected of having been mixed up in the matter. In vain shespoke of religion to her brother. He turned a deaf ear to all she said. With grief at her heart she bade him good-bye, and her grief wasgreater because he seemed so hardened and indifferent to his fate. 

So Ben Page was carried on board a convict ship, with nearly threehundred other men convicted of all sorts of crimes. They were placedunder strict discipline on board ship. Soldiers with loaded arms stoodover them, and if any one broke the rules, he was severely punished. Only a few were allowed to come on deck at a time to enjoy the fresh airand the sight of the sea. They had books, however; and the surgeon, whowas a Christian man, taught those who wished to learn to read and write. He also begged them to repent, and to turn to Jesus Christ that theirsins might be forgiven. 

Thus day after day the convict ship sailed on. Once they were in afearful storm, and the convicts were all kept shut up below. The bigship was tossed about, and lightning struck one of her masts and set heron fire, and the water washed over her and carried away her boats, and aleak was sprung, and all thought that they were going to the bottom. Some got into their beds and shut their eyes, as if they could shut outthe death they thought was coming. Others tried to break on deck; a fewbroke out into loud, wild songs; and some, but very, very few, strove topray; and even fewer still could pray. Those who put off prayer tilldeath comes close to them, find, when too late, that they cannot pray. Those who had talked the loudest, and boasted of their ill deeds, nowshowed themselves the greatest cowards. 

In a short time the fire was got under, and the wind and sea went down, and there was a chance that their lives might be saved. When they wereonce more safe, most of those who had tried to pray forgot their fearsand again hardened their hearts. 

At last the ship reached the distant land to which she was bound--Australia. The convicts were put into barracks, and then formed intoroad-gangs to make new roads through the country. They had first tobuild their huts, and then to work all day in the hot sun withpick-axes, and spades, and wheelbarrows. They were watched byoverlookers, of whom many had themselves been convicts, and were veryharsh and savage. When the day's work was done, the men were marchedback to the huts, where they had to fetch water and firewood, and tocook their food. Day after day they led the same life; there was nochange, no amusement; the sun rose, and the sun set, and the convictsrose to toil, but not for themselves; and lay down again at night, wearywith their labour. Often and often Ben Page wished himself dead. 

"Is this to last for thirteen more long years--all the best of my days?"he asked himself. 

Another convict asked Ben if he would try to escape. They might beshot, but that was better than living on where they were. Ben agreed. They got off, and took to the woods--the bush it is called. They couldonly live by robbing. They watched a hut when the hut-keepers were out, stole some guns and powder and shot, and set up as bush-rangers--that isrobbers. They lived on for some months in the bush, now in one place, now in another. They stole horses and food and clothes. It was a veryhard life though. Every man's hand was against them, and a price wasset on their heads. They were afraid of the natives also, and sufferedmuch from hunger and thirst. Ben sometimes wished himself back with theroad-gang. They at last did so much mischief that parties were sent outagainst them. Ben's comrade was taken, and Ben was wounded, but escapedby the speed of his horse. 

On--on he went. He dared not turn back, for his foes were behind him. Night came on, and he was obliged to stop, for his horse could go nofarther. There was no water near; he had no food. He lay down and fellasleep, holding the bridle in his hand. When he awoke his horse wasgone. He felt weary and stiff, and his wound pained him. The sun rose, scorching down on his head. In his flight he had lost his hat. Histhirst was great. "Water, water, " he cried for. Not a drop could hefind. He walked on, and on, and on. No water; no signs of water. Hesat down under a tree to rest, but he could not rest till he had foundwater. Again he sat down. He could walk no farther. A mist came overhis eyes. He could not think--he could not pray. His throat was dry, his lips parched. He fell back with his arms stretched out, never againto rise. 

Some months afterwards some travellers, in search of a new sheep run, came in the bush on the bones of a man. A bullet near the side madethem guess that he had died of a wound he had just before received. Ina pocket-book in his jacket was found the name of Benjamin Page; and abrace of pistols, a gun and powder-flask, were recognised as having beenstolen from a hut by two bush-rangers, one of whom had been taken andhung. 

Not till years afterwards did the Miller of Hillbrook learn how hisunhappy son died--Mary never knew. 

"Oh that I had brought him up to fear God! how different might have beenhis lot, " said the miller. "It was I--I, that let my son be acastaway. "

STORY ONE, CHAPTER 7. 

The miller was a changed man in some points after his son had beentransported. He seemed to be more morose than ever, but it was observedthat he seldom said or did anything to hurt his neighbours, as once wasthe case. Sam Green, as he began to recover from his broken leg, wasmuch the same man as before, sour and grumpy. He was able to move tohis own cottage, but matters did not improve there. Only when Tiny Paulwas with him was he seen to smile. He was never tired of watching thelittle chap, who would get hold of one of his sticks and call it hishorse, and ride round and round the room on it. "Grandfather must giveTiny Paul a real horse, and then he will ride like a man, " said thechild. 

"Tiny Paul shall have a ride the first day grandfather can find a pony, "said Sam. 

Not long after this Sam hobbled out with the aid of his sticks to afield near his cottage. At the other end of it was a large and deeppond. Sam sat himself down on a bank, and Tiny Paul played about nearhim. There were several horses and ponies feeding in the field. "Grandfather, let Tiny Paul have his ride, " said the child, pointing toan old, blind pony, grazing near. Just then a farmer's boy came by, with a halter in his hand, on his way to catch a horse for his master. "Tom Smith, catch a pony for Tiny Paul to have a ride; do now!" criedthe child. 

Tom Smith was a good-natured lad, and was in no hurry; so he said, "Yes, I'll catch thee a pony, and thou shalt have a ride, little one, thatthou shalt. " The blind pony was very soon caught, and the halter putover his head. "There, Tiny Paul, jump up now, and thee shalt have afine ride, " said Tom Smith. Tiny Paul caught hold of the long mane, andTom Smith helped him up by the leg, till he had a firm seat. 

"Now let Tiny Paul go, --he ride alone, " said the child. Tom Smith, thinking no harm could come to the little fellow, let go the halter. 

"I say, Tom, keep near the pony's head; the child has no notion ofguiding him, " cried Sam. 

"Oh yes, grandfather, Tiny Paul ride like huntsman in red coat, " criedthe child, kicking at the pony's sides, and making him trot by the oldman. 

"Now Tiny Paul make pony gallop, " said the child, hitting the animalwith its halter, and urging it on by his voice and heels. Off set thepony; Tiny Paul laughed, and waved his hand to his grandfather. 

Tom Smith, instead of following the pony, stopped to speak to the oldman. 

For an instant Sam's eyes were off the child. 

"Why where is the pony going?" exclaimed Sam, looking up. 

The pony was making directly for the big pond. 

"Stop him, Paul; stop him, tiny Paul. Pull at the halter, child, "shrieked the old man. "Run after him, Tom; run for your life. Ohmercy! Oh mercy! he'll be into the water!"

Tom ran as fast as his legs could carry him. 

Tiny Paul, though he did not see his danger, pulled at the halter as hewas bid; but the old pony's mouth was too tough to feel the rope in it, and on he went, pleased to have somebody on his back again. It made himthink of the days when he had corn to eat, and hay without the troubleof picking it up. 

Tom Smith ran, and ran, and shouted to the pony to stop; but his footwent into a drain, and down he came. He jumped up, though he had hurthis leg, and ran on. The pony was close to the pond, which was full ofweeds. He was ten yards still behind. 

"Stop! stop!" cried Tom. 

"Oh stop, stop! mercy! mercy! mercy!" shrieked old Sam, who was hobblingon as fast as his sticks would let him move. 

The pony reached the edge. In he plunged. Tiny Paul clung to his mane, but cried out with fear. 

The blind pony waded on, for the water was not at first deep. Tomjumped in, but soon got his legs caught by the weeds; and then the ponybegan to swim. Tom could not swim, so he dared not follow. 

"Stick on, Tiny Paul, stick on, " he shouted. 

But Tiny Paul was crying too much to hear him. Just then a stout weedcaught the child's foot. Tiny Paul let go the mane. The pony swam on;the weed dragged Tiny Paul off, and the next moment Tom saw only onelittle hand clutching at the air above the water. 

Sam Green was still some way off at that sad moment. He hobbled on tillhe reached the edge of the pond, where he found Tom, who crawled out, sighing and crying bitterly. 

"Where's the child; where is Tiny Paul?" shrieked out the old man. 

Tom said nothing, but pointed to the middle of the pond. 

Sam did not seem to know what Tom meant, but looked to the other side, where the pony was standing shaking his shaggy sides. 

"Where is Tiny Paul? where is Tiny Paul?" again asked the old man. 

"Down in there, " said Tom, pointing to the middle of the pond. 

Sam Green fell back as if shot. Tom thought that he was dead, andjumping up, ran off to call for help. He told everybody he met till hereached his master's house. 

People made out that some one was drowned; but whether it was Sam Greenor Tiny Paul, they could not tell. 

Among those Tom met was Farmer Grey. He at once rode to the pond, wherehe found poor Sam lying where he had fallen. Sam was carried back tohis own cottage by order of the farmer, who sent at once for a doctor. The doctor came and said he would recover if treated with care. 

"Then I will stay by him till I can find some one to take my place, "said Farmer Grey. 

Meantime the pond was dragged, and Tiny Paul's body was found: not TinyPaul though; he had gone far away, to the bosom of One who loves littlechildren, and because of that love often takes them to Himself. 

Tiny Paul's body was taken to the cottage of his father and mother. John Dixon could not speak for sorrow; and Mrs Dixon, bursting intotears, threw herself on the body, and would not be comforted. 

Some hours passed, and Sam Green awoke, as if out of a deep sleep. Thefirst words he spoke were about Tiny Paul. 

"Tiny Paul is in the hands of One gentle and kind, who will care for himfar more than you or his father and mother can, " said the farmer. "Donot grieve for Tiny Paul. "

"What's that you say, Master Grey?" asked Sam quickly. 

"That Tiny Paul is better off now than he might have been had you or hisfather or mother brought him up, " said the farmer. "What is the eldestboy doing?"

"No good--no good, I fear. He is in prison, " growled Sam in his oldtone. 

"And the second?" said the farmer. 

"An idle dog. He's a great trouble to my poor daughter. "

"And if I were to ask you, ten or a dozen years hence, what youryoungest grandchild was about, might you not have had to say the same ofhim?"

"That's true, " said Sam, looking up. "I might--yes, I might. "

"Now God often takes to Himself those He loves; He loved Tiny Paul, soHe took him. "

"Yes; I see God can take better care of him than I can. "

"Ay, sure, Sam, that He can and will, and maybe God had another reasonfor taking Tiny Paul. "

"What can that be?" asked Sam. 

"That He might draw you to Himself, " said Farmer Grey. "Would you wishto go where Paul is?"

"Ay, that I would, sir, " said Sam, in an eager tone. 

"Then, my friend, you must try to become like a little child, as TinyPaul was, and be like him, " said the farmer. 

"I'll try, I'll try, " answered Sam. "But how am I to do it, sir? Ifeel very weak and foolish and bad; I don't know even how I can try. "

"Pray that God will send His Holy Spirit to help you. Trust to Him, andHe will not fail you. "

Much more Farmer Grey said in the same style. He came day after day tosee Sam. Sam, in the course of time, became a changed man. He not onlyno longer grumbled and growled, and spoke ill of his neighbours, but hewas cheerful and contented, and seemed ready to be kind and do good toall he met. When he got his leg strong, he went back to his work at themill, and Mark used to say that Sam was twice the man he used to be, andthat much more grist was brought to the mill than when he was, as once, crabbed and sour to all who came near him. 

Still Sam was often sad; but it was not about Tiny Paul. It was when hethought of Ben Page, the miller's son. "Ah, " he thought, "how often andoften, when he was a boy, I said things to him, and in his hearing, which must have done him harm. I might have led him right, and I ledhim wrong. Truly my brother's blood crieth unto me from the ground. "

STORY ONE, CHAPTER 8. 

The Miller of Hillbrook had a tough spirit and a hard heart, like manyother people in the world. It galled him to think that his son was afelon, and that people could point at him as the felon's father. Hisbusiness went on as usual, or rather better than usual, as he was alwaysat home to attend to it. People knew that if they brought grist to hismill, they would be sure to have it ready ground at the day and hourthey had named, if the wind blew to turn the sails. They found alsothat old Sam Green was always ready to oblige them if he could. "Greatchange has come over Sam, --can't understand it, " said some of those whocame to the mill. "Does he think that he is going to die? Can thatmake him so gentle and willing to oblige?"

The miller seemed to be much as he was before. He was even rude toFarmer Grey, when once or twice he came to his house. At last, one day, when the farmer was speaking in a serious tone to Mark, the miller toldhim plainly that he did not want to hear him or see him. The farmersaid nothing, and was just as civil and kind to Mark as before. Oneday, Mark had gone into the neighbouring town on business; Mary hadwalked up to see Mrs Dobbs, Farmer Grey's housekeeper; and Mrs Pagewas the only person in the house. Sam was at the mill, but all theother men were away with the carts. Mrs Page had left a pile of woodto dry near the fire, before which some clothes were hung up to air;some fagots, besides, were placed against the wall, and some wood withwhich Mark was going to repair some work in the mill. Mistress Page wassitting in her room sewing, when she smelt a smell of fire, and thensmoke made its way into the room, for the door was ajar. She began tofear that the house was on fire; and soon she was certain of it, forthick curls of smoke came out from the kitchen. Instead of shutting thedoor, and going up to the mill to call Sam, she threw open all thewindows and doors she could reach, and ran out of the house, screaming"Fire! fire! fire!"

After some time Sam heard the poor woman's cries, and looking out of awindow in the mill, saw the flames bursting forth from every part of thehouse. He hurried out of the mill as fast as his lameness would allow;but he soon saw that alone he could do nothing in putting out the fire. 

In a few minutes, however, several men were seen coming from FarmerGrey's, with buckets in their hands, followed by the farmer onhorseback. By the time, however, they reached the spot, the house wasin flames, from one end to the other. Still there was work for them todo, to try and save the out-buildings. Even the mill itself wasthreatened, as the wind blew towards it. The men pulled down the shedsnearest the house, and damped the straw thatch of two or threeouthouses, the farmer not only showing them what to do, but working awaywith his own hands as hard as any one. At last the fire was got under, and the mill was saved; but the house was burnt to the ground. 

Just then the miller came back. He began to storm and rage, and askedwho had burned down his house. "That we have to learn, neighbour, "answered Farmer Grey. "It may be found that no one burned it down, andlet us be thankful that things are not worse. However, come up to myhouse; there are rooms and a sup for you till your own house is rebuilt;your wife and daughter are already there. "

"I wonder you can think of asking me, Farmer Grey, " said Mark. "I havenot given you much thanks for the good deeds you have already done me. "

"Don't think of that, just now, neighbour, " answered Farmer Grey. "Weare bound to do good--or right, call it--and not to think of the returnwe are to get. If God was only to give His blessings to those who weresure to be grateful for them, He would give us far less than He does. We should get little or nothing, I suspect. "

So the miller went to Farmer Grey's house with his wife and daughter. It seemed strange to him to find himself there, and stranger still tofeel the kind way in which the farmer treated him. Even now he couldnot understand it. 

At last his house was finished, and he and his family went into it. 

Mark had spent a good deal of money in rebuilding his house; and thoughthe mill itself wanted repairing, he said that he must put that off tillanother year; he and Sam Green would patch it up to last till that time. That year passed by, and another came, and had nearly gone, and stillnothing was done to the mill. One evening in autumn, the wind wasblowing strong, and making even the new house shake, while it whistledand howled through doors and windows. The arms of the mill had beensecured, Sam Green had gone home, and the miller himself, thinking thatall was right, went to bed. The wind increased, the house shook moreand more; there was a fearful gale blowing. On a sudden he woke with astart. There was a crash, --then another, --and at last another, louderthan either of the first. The weather, however, was so rough that hecould not get up. Again he went to sleep. As soon as it was daylighthe looked out. "Where was the mill?" Instead of seeing it, as heexpected, against the cold grey sky of the autumn morning, he sawnothing at all. He rubbed his eyes again and again. At last he castthem towards the ground, and there lay scattered about and broken intosmall pieces, all that remained of his mill. The wheels and grindstonelay near the base; the roof and sides had been carried almost a hundredyards away, and the long arms still farther. 

The miller's spirit was fairly broken when he saw the wreck of his mill. 

He was aroused by Sam's voice. "This is a bad business, master, " saidSam. "When I heard it blow so hard last night, I was afraid ofsomething, though I did not think to find it as bad as this; but I said`God's will be done, whatever happens. '"

"Well, He has done His will with me at all events, " answered the millersullenly. "I don't think He could do much worse either. "

"If we got our deserts, He could do very much worse to us, " said Samfirmly. "But, master, He is a God of love, and He sends these sort ofmisfortunes, not because He hates us, but because He loves us, andwishes us to think of Him, and trust to Him. "

"Such talk as that won't rebuild the mill, " exclaimed the miller almostsavagely. 

"May be it won't, master; but it may help to make you turn to God andtrust to His mercy, as I try to do, " said Sam. 

"You, Sam! you, a wicked old sinner. How dare you talk of trusting toGod?"

"Because, master, He asks me to do so, He promises to forgive me mysins, " said Sam. "I should be declaring that God is a liar if Iwouldn't trust Him. "

"Then you think that I am a sinner, Sam, " said the miller. 

"I know that you are one, master, " answered Sam boldly. 

The miller made no answer, but walked about the ruins, as if thinkingwhat part would do to go up again. The rotten state of the mill, perhaps, made him think of his own state. Suddenly he stopped andsaid--

"You are right, Sam; I've been a wicked, hardhearted man all my life, all rotten and bad, and it's a wonder God hasn't struck me down longago, as the mill was struck down last night. "

"Master, I say to you what was said a short time ago to me, `I came notto call the righteous, but sinners to repentance, ' (Mark chapter 2, verse 17). It's a great thing to feel that we are sinners. "

"Sam, you speak like a parson, and I'm near sure you speak what istrue, " said the miller. 

"I speak what is in the Bible, master, and so I am sure that it is whatis true, " answered Sam. 

Just then the miller saw Farmer Grey riding up the hill. 

"I do not come to condole with you, neighbour Page, " he said in hisusual kind tone. "What means have you of putting up the mill again, andsetting it going?"

"Not a shilling, farmer, " answered Mark. "I'm a ruined man. "

"Don't be cast down, neighbour, " said Farmer Grey. "People, however, may take their grist to other mills to be ground, if yours is notworking; so I want you to send at once for carpenters and mill-wrights, and to let them know that they are to look to me for payment. No words, neighbour, about thanks. Let it be done at once; don't lose time. You'll repay me, some day, I am very sure. " Then Mark Page knew thetrue meaning of having coals of fire heaped on his head. 

In a short time the mill, rebuilt with sound timbers and strongmachinery, was going round as merrily as ever, and grinding as much ifnot more grist than it did in former days. People had wondered at thechange in Sam Green; they wondered still more at the change in hismaster, --once so sullen and ill-tempered, --now so gentle and kind andobliging. The change in him was even greater than in the mill itself. 

It is easy enough to rebuild a house: no human power can change a man'sheart, as Mark Page's had been changed. 

STORY ONE, CHAPTER 9. 

Farmer Grey, as he sat in his large house by himself, often felt sad andlonely. He had lost his wife when young; she had had no children, andhe had not married again. His nephew, James, was his only nearrelative; and he found, whenever he thought of the young man, that, inspite of his faults, he loved him more than he had supposed. For a longtime he had not heard from him; and, as several bloody battles had oflate been fought in India, he began to fear that he might have beenamong the killed, and that no one had known his address to write andtell him. Still, Farmer Grey was not a man to sit by himself and broodover his sorrow. He went about as usual, doing all the good he could, not only in his own village but in the neighbourhood; and he never heardof a poor person falling sick or getting into trouble, whom he did notvisit and relieve as far as he was able. He thought, too, more of poorMary Page than of himself. He knew how much she loved James, and thatshe would spend the best days of her youth waiting for him to come back, as he was sure that she would never marry anybody else. Meantime, though Mary was often sad, still she believed that James was alive, andthat he would some day come back to her. She often blamed herself forthinking so much of him, while the fate of her unhappy brother was souncertain. It was surely through God's kindness that she never learnedwhat his fate had been. 

Mary's home, in many ways, was far happier than it had ever before been. She soon saw the change in her father, and it did her heart good. Instead of sitting gloomily by himself when he came in from work, or, ashe used, reading some bad paper opposed to religion and government, hisgreat pleasure was to listen to her reading the Bible, or to talk withher on religious subjects. 

Whilst Mary Page was, one evening, sitting at the window of the parlourof the new mill-house, she saw a dark-bearded soldier-like man lookingup at the house, as if surprised at its appearance. The stranger passedthrough the wicket; Mary could sit quiet no longer. She rose and openedthe front door: "James, James, is it you?" she cried out, as if yetfearful that she might be mistaken. 

"Yes, Mary, I am James, but not the James who went away in disgrace afew years back, " he said, when she had led him into the parlour. "Buttell me, do you forgive me? Does my uncle forgive me?"

"Oh, yes; yes--all is forgiven, long, long ago. It will give your kinduncle a new life, to see you back safe and well. "

Together, in a few minutes, they set off to the farm. Mary was right. No father could give a more hearty welcome to a prodigal son than goodFarmer Grey gave to his nephew James. 

James had gained rank and marks of distinction, and he had a pension forwounds, and a considerable share of prize money. His rank and honourshowed that he had been firm in resisting the many temptations to whichhe must have been exposed, for no soldiers escape them. He got hisdischarge, but entered a militia regiment that he might be able todefend his country, should she ever be attacked by foreign foes. He andMary married; and no more happy and prosperous couple were to be foundin or near Hillbrook. They were so, because they were "diligent inbusiness, fearing the Lord. "

STORY TWO, CHAPTER 1. 

TOM TRUEMAN, THE SAILOR; OR, LIFE AT SEA IN A MERCHANT VESSEL. 

It was a sad, sad day for poor mother and all of us, when father wasbrought home on a hurdle, the life crushed out of him by a tree whichfell right down where he stood. 

He never spoke again. We lived in Dorsetshire, not far from the town ofPoole. Father was a day labourer; he had never saved a sixpence. Hisclub buried him, and we were left to live as we could, or to go to theworkhouse. Mother said that she would never do that, and with God'shelp she'd try to feed and clothe us. She found it very hard workthough. 

There were ten of us. Jane, who was sixteen, and just going intoservice, was the eldest, and little Bill, who was in arms, was theyoungest. I was the fourth child. 

Farmer Denn took Sam, who was a strong lad, and Jack went to Mr Sweet, the grocer in the village, who wanted an errand boy. Jane got a placeas maid-of-all-work--and very hard work it was. 

He was the only one besides who had the chance of gaining a penny, except little Ben, and as he was a sharp chap, he used to be set toscare away the birds, with a clapper in his hands, and such-like work;but to be sure he did not make much. 

So mother had six children to feed and clothe, we may say, and all of usmore or less to clothe, for even sister Jane could not do without help. 

When father was alive we elder ones went to school; so I knew about thesea, and a few things in foreign parts, which I had read of in books. One evening when Sam and Jack came home, I said to them, "This willnever do; mother mustn't work as she does, it will kill her. I've madeup my mind to go to sea. May be I shall be able to make money, and sendher home some. I've read of lands where people, just with a spade andpick, dig up gold as we should potatoes. I'll see what I can do. "

Sam, who was just a quiet, steady lad, and did his tasks as well as anyboy at school, laughed, and said that I might dig a long time before Ishould get gold enough to fill my pocket. 

Still I thought and thought over the matter, till at last I told motherthat I had made up my mind to go to sea, and hoped soon she would haveone mouth less to feed. 

She looked very sad when she heard me say this, but I told her not togrieve, and that I would soon be back, and that it would be all for thebest. 

That's what father used to say, "It's all for the best, --God knowswhat's best for us. " I've stuck to the same ever since. Blow high orblow low, when the ship has been driven by the wind towards the rocks, and all on board have thought we were going to be lost, I've said thesame, "Trust in God, He knows what is best for us. " What's more, I'vealways found it come true. 

Mother saw things in the same way at last, and gave me her blessing, andtold me to go into Poole and see what I could do for myself. 

I found a number of vessels alongside the quays on the banks of theriver. I went on board one and then another and another, but the men Isaw laughed at me. Some said that boys were more trouble than use, thatthey were always in the way when they were not wanted, and out of itwhen they were wanted, and that I had not a chance of being taken. Atlast I thought I must go back to mother and see if Farmer Denn can giveme work. I had got to the very end of the quay, and was turning backwhen I met a gentleman, whom I had seen several times as I was coming onshore from the vessels. He asked me in a kind voice what I was lookingfor. I told him. 

"Come in here, and we will see what can be done for you, my lad, " hesaid. 

He took me into an office or sort of shop, full of all sorts of ship'sstores. In it were seated three or four men, who were, I found, captains of vessels. My new friend having talked to them about me, oneof them asked, "Would you like to go to sea with me, boy?"

"Yes, sir, " said I, for I liked the look of his face. 

"You don't ask who I am, nor where I am going, " he said. 

"For that I don't care, sir; but I think you are a good man, and will bea kind master, " I answered boldly. 

"Ah, well; you must not be too sure of that, " said the captain. "I donot sail from here, but from a place on the other side of England, called Liverpool, and I am going a long, long voyage, to last two orthree years, may be. "

I said that I should like that, because I should then be a good sailorbefore I came back again. He then told me that Liverpool, next toLondon, is the largest place for trade in England, and that thousandsand thousands of vessels sail from it every year to all parts of theworld. He was going back there in a few days, where his ship wasgetting ready for a voyage to the Pacific Ocean, and very likely roundthe world. 

The Pacific, he told me, is a very large spread of water on the otherside of America, many thousands of miles long and wide. First we shouldhave to cross the Atlantic ocean, off there where the sun sets. That isalso many thousands of miles long and wide. On the farther side isAmerica. We should have to go round the south point of America, calledCape Horn, to get into the Pacific. The Pacific is full of islands, generally a number of small ones together, then a wide open space, andthen more islands. A ship may sail on, though, for days together andnot see land. Some of these islands are very low, only just above thewater, and are made of coral, and others have high mountains in them. Some of these throw up fire and ashes, and are called volcanoes. 

I was much taken with all Captain Bolton told me (for that was thegentleman's name), and as he was not to leave Poole for two days, therewas time for me to go back and see mother and brothers and sisters. 

Mother and the rest cried very much when they found I was really going, but when she heard what a nice man Captain Bolton was, she cheered up abit. One lady sent her three shirts for me, and another a pair ofshoes, and Farmer Denn, who had a son who was lost overboard at sea, sent me a whole suit of the lad's clothes. People were very kind. 

To my mind there are a good many kind people in the world, if we did butknow where to find them. 

I won't tell about the leave-taking. I don't like, even now, to thinkabout it. 

Captain Bolton took me with him round in a brig to Liverpool. Thelittle vessel was tossed and tumbled about, and as I had nothing to doexcept to think of myself, I was very sick. If I could have left theship and gone back home when I once got on shore, I would have done so. Captain Bolton told me that I was only getting my inside to rights, andthat I should think nothing of such work when I had been a few weeks atsea. 

Ships are named after people aid all sort of things. Captain Bolton'sship was called the _Rose_. She had three masts, and a crew of thirtymen, with six big guns, for we were going to some curious, out-of-the-way places, and might have to fight the savages, I was told. She had three mates besides the captain, and another officer called aboatswain, who had a good deal to do with managing the men. As soon asI got on board, the captain told me to go to him, and that he would lookafter me. His name was Alder. 

The ship was nearly ready for sea, with most of her cargo on board, sothat we had not long to wait till we bid good-bye to Old England. 

I wish that I could make those who have never seen a ship understandwhat one is like. Sailors call a ship she, and often speak of her asthe old girl. Our ship was built of wood, longer than most houses, andcovered in by what we call a deck. At the fore end there was a placefor the crew to live in, called the fore-peak, and at the after-endrooms or cabins for the captain and officers. All the rest of the shipwas filled with cargo and stores. To the masts were hung across spars, or poles, as big as large larches, and on these were stretched thesails, made of stout canvas. It required the strength of all the crewto hoist one of these yards, and that of eight or ten men to roll up, orfurl, one of the larger sails. Then there were so many ropes to keep upthe masts, and so many more to haul the sails here and there, that Ithought I should never learn their names or their uses. 

From the day the captain put me under charge of Mr Alder, he seemednever so much as even to look at me, but I know that he really did notforget me. 

I had learned something about sea-life, going round from Poole toLiverpool, so that I was not quite raw when I went on board the _Rose_. There were two other boys who had never before been on board ship, andas I had been a week at sea they looked on me as an old sailor. Therest of the crew did not though, and I was told to run here and thereand everywhere by any man who wanted a job done for him. Still I had nocause to complain. The captain was strict but just, made each man dohis duty, and the ship was thus kept in good order. I set to work fromthe first to learn my duty, and found both Mr Alder and many of the menready to teach me. In a short time I went aloft, that is climbed up themasts, and lay out on the yards to reef sails as well as many olderseamen. At first it seemed a fearful thing to be high up on the yardswith only a rope to hold on by, or may be only my elbows, when my handswere wanted and to look down and see only the hard deck and the foamingwater, and to know that if I fell on the deck I should have my brainsknocked out, or into the water that I should be drowned, for at thattime I could not swim. Climbing the highest tree you ever saw isnothing to it, for a tree is steady, and there are branches above andbelow, and if you fall you may drop on the soft ground. Still I did notthink very much about it, and soon it was just the same to me, whether Iwas on deck or aloft. 

No man can be idle on board ship, and if a man thinks that he can sit ona cask all day at sea, kicking his heels against it, he will soon findout his mistake. There is always work to be done about the masts orspars or rigging, while there is no end of ropeyarn to be spun at allodd hours. 

The two boys I have spoken of were Toby Potts and Bill Sniggs. Toby wasa sharp little chap, Bill a big, stupid fellow, the butt of the crew, Toby made them laugh by his fun, while they laughed at Bill for hisstupid mistakes. Bill was stronger than either Toby or me, and couldthrash us both together, so that we did not often play him tricks. Whenwe did, the men used to stand our friends against Bill. 

Sometimes all three of us used to be sent aloft to furl the royals, which are the highest sails on the masts. 

One evening there was the cry of "All hands shorten sail, " which meansall the sailors are to help take in the sails. Each man has his properpost, so that all know where to go. We three boys ran up the rigging, up we went in the gloom of coming night, the wind whistling, the searoaring, the ship pitching. We had rope ladders, shrouds they arecalled, to help us for most of the way. We could just make out the menhanging on the yards below as we lay out on our yard. As Bill was astrong chap we soon had the sail rolled up and ready to send on deck. Toby and I had done our work, when Bill, who was clinging round themast, caught hold of us both. 

"Now, lads, I'm going to have my revenge. You promise never to chaff meagain, or I'll let you both drop down on deck, or into the sea, may be. In either case you'll be killed, and no one will know it. "

His voice did not sound as if he was in joke. 

"Which is to go first, " I asked. 

"You'll let us say our prayers, Bill, " said Toby, who always had a wordto say. 

"Will you chaff me?" cried Bill, in a fierce voice. 

"Of course we will--only let us go, " said Toby. 

Bill thought that Toby meant that he would not chaff him, for he let usboth go, and we lost no time in slipping down the rigging. 

This was the beginning of a storm, the first I had been in. 

I did not think that any thing made by man's hands could have stucktogether as the big ship did, tossed and tumbled about as she was. 

We told no one of what Bill had said, but we did not play him any moretricks for some time to come. 

STORY TWO, CHAPTER 2. 

You all know what a storm on shore is when it seems as if the windowsmust be blown in, or the roof taken off, when the walls shake, and bigtrees are torn up by the roots and thrown down. At sea the wind blowsup the water into large hills with foaming tops, which seem to rise andleap on every side, or to come rolling on towards the ship as if theywould knock her to pieces, or drive her under them. Instead, she mountsup the hills of water, and a deep valley is seen far below her. 

All sail was taken in, and our big ship ran before the wind, tossedabout as if she were a mere washtub. Above our heads were the darkdriving clouds, on every side the rolling, foaming, roaring waves. Notanother sail did we see, while the nearest land, we knew, was hundredsof miles away. Often and often I thought that the waves would catch us, and send us all to the bottom. Then I remembered what father used tosay, "Trust in God; He knows what is best for us. If he thinks that itis best for us all to be drowned, His will be done. " So when I wasordered to turn in, I went into the little narrow cupboard sort ofplace, which was my berth, and slept as soundly as if the ship was inharbour. Our crew was divided into two watches, that is to say, onehalf of us were on deck at one time, and one half at another, exceptwhen all hands were called. When it was again my watch on deck, I foundthe ship flying on as before, with the same dark sky above and tossingwaves around me. On she drove, rolling from side to side, and pitchinginto the seas as if she was going down under them. I could not stand onthe deck for a moment without holding on to a rope or the bulwarks. Still I liked to watch the big, dark, green waves, as they rose andtumbled about. Even the old sailors could do very little, and it washard work for the cook to keep the pots on the fire to cook our food. 

Things had got somewhat worse when Toby crawled up to me. 

"I say, Tom, don't you think that we be all going to be drowned?" heasked, his teeth chattering with fear and cold. 

"I hope not, but I do not like the look of matters, " I answered. 

"No, they are very bad, depend on it, " he said. "I heard some of themen telling Bill Sniggs that he'd better repent of his sins, for thatmay be in a few hours he wouldn't have much chance. "

"Perhaps they were only joking him, " said I. 

"Oh no, they looked too grave for that, " said Toby. "It's very awful. "

While we were speaking a fierce squall struck the ship. There was aloud crash, and a cry of "Stand from under. " And down came thefore-topmast and all its rigging; the ropes flying about our heads, andthe spars nearly striking us. I thought that it was all over with us, and looked to see if Toby had been carried away, but there he stoodclearing himself, as I was doing, from the ropes. 

The men, led by the mates, had work enough to clear the wreck of themasts, and to get the spars stowed away. I should have thought that wewere in a bad state, but the officers and men took matters very coolly, so I hoped that all was right. 

Not long after this a ship was seen ahead. They said that she was alarge ship with some of her masts gone, and that a flag was flying whichshowed that she was in distress--that is, in a bad way--like to sink. 

We soon drove down to her. There she lay in the trough of the sea. Iheard Mr Alder say that she was twice as big as we were, that therewere soldiers on board with their wives and children, but that we couldgive her no help. As we drew near, we saw a number of men at the pumps, working away for their lives. Some fifty soldiers or more stood readydrawn up to take their places. There were many more people on deck. They stretched out their hands as they saw us come near. It made myheart bleed to think that we could give them no help, but if we hadtried to lower a boat, our own people would have been lost. 

For the first time I saw some of our men change colour. They had goodreason to do so, for it seemed as if we should drive right against theship and send her to the bottom and ourselves also. As it was, wepassed so near that we could see the look of fear in the faces of thepeople, and could hear their piteous cries. 

She had not a boat remaining, and had a raft been formed, the peoplewould have been swept off in that raging sea. 

No, there was no hope for a single being on board. Still they mightlive on in that state for hours. 

I was thinking how sad it was for them when I heard a cry, and saw on asudden the big ship lift up her bows out of the water. The peoplerushed forward; many were caught by the sea and swept away. It matteredlittle even for those who gained the forecastle, --down, down went theship; and then I rubbed my eyes. The tops of her masts were seen abovethe waves; they too sunk, and for some minutes there was not a sign ofher left. In those few short moments all the men and women and childrenwho were on board had lost their lives, and were called to stand beforeGod. 

Here and there a spar, or a plank, or a hencoop, or grating floated up, but not one person could we see. 

On we flew. We could have given no help; none was wanted. 

"Many a tall ship has gone down in the same way when no one has beennear to see it, many another will thus go down, " said Mr Alder, who wasstanding near me. "It should teach us sailors to be ready to go up toGod at a moment's call; ay, and landsmen too, for who knows who may nextbe called. "

I often after that thought of Mr Alder's words. 

The storm lasted six days. After that we got light winds, and sooncrossed what sailors call the line. Not that there is any line or markon the earth or sea; but as the world is round, and turns round andround the sun, as an orange with a stick through it might be made toturn round a candle, it is that part which is nearest the sun. The sunat noon, in that part, all round the world, is overhead, and so it isjust the hottest part of the world. It was hot, indeed. The pitchbubbled out of the seams in the decks, one calm day, and we could havefried a beefsteak, if we had had one, on any iron plates on the deck. Iwas glad when, after running for a thousand miles or so, we got coolerweather, though the sun was still hot enough at noon. Our ship was verywell found, the men said, and we had no lack of food--salt beef, andpeas, and rice, and flour, and sometimes suet and raisins for puddings. They said we were much better off than many ship's companies; we hadenough of good food, and our officers were just, and did not overworkus. 

I heard tales of what happens on board some ships, where the food is badand scanty; the men are worked well-nigh to death, often struck by themaster and the mates, and treated like dogs. I was thankful that Ihadn't gone to sea in one of those ships. 

At last I found we were going round Cape Horn, which is the south pointof America. We had a fair wind, and not much of it; but a gale had beenblowing somewhere, for there was a swell, such as I had never thought tosee. The water was just like smooth up-and-down chalk downs, only asregular as furrows in a field. The big ship just seemed nothing amongthem, as she now sunk down in the hollow, and then rose to the top ofthe smooth hill of water. To our right was seen Cape Horn itself; it isa high head of land, sticking out into the sea, all by itself. Very fewpeople have ever been on shore there, and no one lives there, as thereis no ground to grow anything, and the climate is cold and bleak. Youknow that the two ends of the earth, or poles, as they are called, thenorth and south, are very cold; ice and snow all the year round, andCape Horn is near the south end. 

After we passed it, for some time we steered north, and soon got intowarm weather again. You see the hot part of the world is midway betweenthe north and south pole, so sailing north from the south pole we findit hotter and hotter, and so we do sailing south from the north pole. We find our way over the sea, far away from land night or day, just aswell as on shore. Besides the sun and stars to guide us, we have thecompass. It is a wonderful thing, though it is so simple-looking; justa round card, resting on a spike in a brass basin. In the card is along steel needle, and the point of it is rubbed with a stuff calledloadstone, and it takes the card round and round, and always points tothe north. The north, and all the other points, are marked on the card;so when we look at it we see what way the ship's head is. The ship isguided by a rudder, and a compass is placed just before the man whosteers, that is, turns the rudder--this way or that--so that he can lookat it, and know which way to turn the rudder, and so to keep the ship onher course. 

Then the shape of all parts of the world is mapped down on paper, andthe distances, that is to say, an inch on the paper, maybe, stands forfifty miles, and so the captain knows where he is going, and how far hehas to go, though he has never been there before. We have a log line, with marks on it, and by letting that run out astern we judge how fastthe ship is going; then the compass tells us the course she is steering, that is, the way she is going, and that we call "dead reckoning. " Butthe captain has besides wonderful instruments of brass and glasses, andhe looks through them at the sun, or stars, and moon, and then he makessums on paper; and then he has some curious watches, which never gowrong, and with them and his sums he can tell just where the ship is, though we haven't seen land for six or eight weeks, or more. It iscurious to sail on day after day, and week after week, and not to seeland, and yet to know that it is all right, and that we shall reach thevery port we are bound for, unless we fall in with a storm, and lose ourmasts, and get cast away, or spring a leak and founder; but then when wecome to think of the thousands of ships at sea, and that not one in ahundred gets lost, we needn't count on that. So you understand, whatwith the "dead reckoning, " and the curious instruments I told you of--one of them is called a sextant--the captain can take his ship rightacross the pathless ocean, just as easily as a coachman does his coachalong a high-road. You see sailors on shore, and they seem oftenharum-scarum, idle fellows, but at sea everything is done with thegreatest order, and every man and boy has his proper duty, just as theservants in a large country-house. The crew are divided into watches, called the starboard and larboard, or port, watches; the chief matecommands one, the second mate the other. While one watch is on duty theother goes below to sleep, or take their meals, except when all handsare wanted on deck. Every hour a bell is struck to show how time goes. Every four hours the watch is changed, except in the evening, from fourto eight o'clock, when there are two watches, called dog-watches, thatis to say, from four to six, one; and from six to eight, another. Thereason of this is that the people who are on watch at one time onenight, may not be on watch the same time the next night, which theywould be if there were six instead of seven watches, which you will findthere are in the twenty-four hours. I used to be very glad when myfirst watch was over, and I was able to turn in from twelve to four, when I had to be up again to keep the morning watch. That was no idletime, for as soon as it was daylight we had to scrub and wash downdecks, and to put everything in order for the day, just as housemaidsput the house in order. 

Night and day, fine weather or foul, a man is stationed either at themast-head, or yard-arm, or forward, to keep a look-out ahead for anyship, or land, or shoals, or rocks, which may be near. Many a ship hasbeen lost when a good look-out has not been kept; one ship has run intoanother, and both have sunk, or the ship has run on rocks not seen tilltoo late. 

When we get near the land we use a lead and line, to learn the depth ofwater. This is called heaving the lead, as the lead is swung round withthe arm to fall far ahead. There are knots on the line a fathom apart, which we can tell by the feel. 

When a ship gets in shallow water, she can anchor; but in storms thewaves are so high, and the wind so strong, that she may be torn from heranchors and driven ashore. 

When a ship gets into harbour, the sails are furled, and the anchorsdropped, but even then a watch is kept on deck. 

When we got to the south of the line, we saw that the stars overheadwere all different to those we see in England. I marked one set ofstars more than all the rest. It is called the Southern Cross. Theworld is round, and there are thousands of stars and other worlds roundus, on every side, all made and kept in their places and governed byGod. I often thought of that as I stood on deck at night, and felt thatthe same great God was loving and caring for me, a poor sailor-boy. 

STORY TWO, CHAPTER 3. 

"Land ho! land ho!" I heard the man at the fore-topmast-head shout out. He pointed to the east. There, as the sun rose, we saw quite clear along line of blue mountains, some of the highest on the face of theglobe, so I should think, for we were then well-nigh fifty miles offthem. 

It seemed curious after sailing west so long, to see land on the east;but then you will understand that we had gone also south, and then west, and then north again, round a point--a pretty big point to be sure--Imean Cape Horn. 

We had had a fresh breeze all day, but it was almost dark before wedropped anchor in the bay of Valparaiso, or the Vale of Paradise, as itis called. It is the chief port in the country of Chili, and some wayinland is the capital, called Santiago. As soon as the anchor was downwe were divided into three watches, which gave us all a longer time inbed, no small boon to us, who had been watch and watch so long. 

The next morning I was on deck early, to have a look at the land. It isvery hilly and rocky close to the sea; and away inland, the highmountains I spoke of run up towards the sky. This is a very hotcountry, and so the land looked parched and dry; but I was told that inwinter it is green and fresh. The country once belonged to Spain, andall the chief people in it are born of Spanish fathers and mothers. Thepeople all talk Spanish, though the poorer classes have come from thenative Indians, and many have had Spanish fathers. They were verycivil; and some of the boatmen talked enough English to make us knowwhat they wished to say. They brought us plenty of fruits, which theysold cheap--oranges, and grapes, and figs, and melons, and water-melons. The water-melon they eat a great deal of, and it is very nice in a hotcountry as theirs is. It is as big as a man's head, with a hard, greenrind, and in the inside is what looks like pink snow, with a sweetishtaste, and black seeds. 

The people wear all sorts of curious dresses, but what I remember bestwere their cloaks, called _ponchos_, which are square pieces of colouredcloth, with a round hole in the middle for the head to go through; andtheir leggings and their high straw hats. 

They are Roman Catholics; that is, they call the Pope of Rome the headof their Church. I saw several processions of priests, in gold, andscarlet, and purple, and yellow dresses, and figures as big as lifecarried on men's shoulders, and flags, and crosses. The priests walkedunder a piece of coloured silk, stretched out at the ends of four giltpoles, carried by men in red and white dresses. And some rang bells andchanted, and others swung to and fro carved silver baskets, withsweet-smelling stuff burning in them, and others long, wax, lightedcandles; and when the people saw the chief priest, who carried what Iwas told was the Host in his hand, they fell down on their knees, andthey did the same when the figures passed, and crossed themselves, andsome of them beat their breasts and cried out. There were also a numberof boys, dressed up in silk of many colours, with silver wings, to looklike angels; but some of the young monkeys made faces at me and Toby, and laughed, and seemed to think the thing a joke. I thought that wehad got into a Christian country, but I now found that they were littlebetter than idolaters, for I remembered the commandment, "Thou shalt notmake to thyself any graven image. .. Thou shalt not bow down to them, nor worship them. "

I read not long ago of what happened in the largest church in thecapital city, Santiago, not far from this. Nearly two thousand of theprincipal ladies, and other women of the place, and many children, and afew men, were collected to worship the Virgin Mary and her image, andthe whole church was lighted with paraffine oil--the roof, the pillars, the sides. Suddenly some hangings near the figure of the Virgin tookfire, and soon the whole church was in a blaze. Some of the priests ranoff through a small side-door with their trumpery ornaments, leaving thepoor women and children inside. On the heads of these the burning oilcame pouring down. A few, but very few, were got out at the front door;but those trying to get out trampled down each other, and blocked up thedoor. The greater number were burned to death. I never tell of myvisit to Chili, without thinking of the fearful scene in that burningchurch. 

The watermen in the bay go out to sea in a curious sort of way. Twoskins of seals, or some other large animal, filled full of air, arelashed together at one end, the other ends open like a man's legsstretched out; and the waterman, who sits astride on the ends lashedtogether, which forms the bow of the boat, works himself on with apaddle, which has a blade at each end. He holds it in the middle, anddips first one end and then the other into the water. These skin boats, if boats they are, are called _balsas_. Sometimes the watermen quarrel, and one sticks his knife into another's _balsa_, and as soon as he doesso, the man whose _balsa_ has been cut has to strike out for his lifetowards the shore, for the wind soon gets out of it. 

The captain got through the business which took us to Valparaiso, andonce more we were at sea, bound for Callao, the chief port in Peru. Near it, inland, is Lima, the capital. Peru reaches nearly all the wayfrom Chili, along the coast, to the north part of South America. Allthe upper classes are Spaniards; that is, born of Spanish parents, whilethe rest are native Indians, or children of Indians, of ayellowish-brown colour. The natives had once their own kings andprinces, and were a prosperous and wealthy people. They had cities androads, and tanks for water, and well-cultivated fields. 

Rather more than three hundred years ago the Spaniards arrived in thecountry, and cruelly killed most of their chiefs, and enslaved thepeople, and have ruled the country ever since. At last the Spaniardsborn in the country, rose on the Spaniards who had come from Spain, anddrove them away. It is now free, that is, governed only by people bornin the country, and has nothing to do with Spain. 

We had been three days at sea, when a strong gale from the east drove usoff the land some hundred miles. The crew grumbled very much, for itwould take us, they said, a fortnight or more to beat up to Callao, andthey were eager to have fresh meat and fruit and vegetables, instead ofsalt beef and hard biscuits, which was now our food. 

A sailor's food on a long voyage is salt beef and pork, and biscuits, and tea, and cocoa, and sugar, and sometimes flour, with raisins andsuet for a pudding, which is called "duff. " If, however, they live toolong on salt food, they get a dreadful complaint, called scurvy, whichfresh vegetables only can cure. I was far better fed than I had everbeen on shore, yet often I longed for a cabbage and a dish of potatoes, and would gladly have given up the beef and pork to get them. 

I had now become a pretty fair seaman, and was placed aloft to keep alook-out for strange vessels, or land, or rocks, or shoals. I had myeyes to the north, when I saw what I first thought was a cask. I hailedthe deck, and then the second mate came up and said that it was a boat. The ship was steered towards it. I could see no one moving, and thoughtthat it must be empty; but the mate said that he saw some men's headsabove the gunwale. He was right, for suddenly, as if he was just awoke, a man stood up and waved a shirt, and then others lifted up their headsand waved their hats; but the first soon sunk down again, as if too weakto stand. As we drew near they again waved their hats, and we saw theirmouths moving, as if they were trying to cheer, but their voices weretoo weak to reach us. We made out five men, who had just strength tosit up and lean over the side. We hove-to; that is, we placed the sailsso as to stop the way of the ship, and lowered a boat, for the waveswere too high to make it safe to take the ship alongside of the boat. Ijumped into our boat. Never shall I forget the thin, miserable faces ofthe poor fellows in the boat. Besides the five sitting up, there werethree others lying on the bottom, so far gone that they scarcely seemedto know that help had come to them. There was not a morsel of food, nora drop of water on board. Their boat, too, was so battered and rotten, that it was a wonder it was still afloat. One or two of the strongesttried to speak, but couldn't, and burst into tears as we got alongside;some of the rest groaned, and pointed to their mouths, as if we wantedto be told that they were starving. As we didn't like to try even totow their boat, we lifted them out gently into ours. Some of them, though pretty big men, were as light as young boys. We left their boat, and pulled back to the ship as fast as we could, for there was no timeto lose. Two of these poor fellows, indeed, must have died in the boat, for they were corpses when we got them on deck. If we had been left toourselves, we should have killed them all with over-feeding; but CaptainBolton would allow them at first only a spoonful or two of weak brandyand water, and then a little arrowroot, and afterwards some soup; butnot for some hours would he give them any heavy food, and even then avery little at a time. The result of this wise treatment was that in afew days two of them--the second mate and another man--were able tocrawl about the deck, and that they all in time recovered. 

They were part of the crow of a whaler, the _Helen_, which with nearly afull cargo of oil had caught fire, some six hundred miles to thewestward of where we found them. They had remained by the ship to thelast, and then taken to the boats. But scarcely had they lost sight ofher, when a fearful gale sprang up, and the second mate's boat lostsight of the rest. They had, as soon as the gale was over, steered fora certain island, which they missed, then for another, which they missedalso. Then they had tried to reach the coast of Peru, but they had hadcalms and foul winds, and their water and food came to an end. Four haddied before we found them, and the rest would not have lived many hourslonger. Such is one of the many dangers to which sailors are exposed. I little thought at that time that I should one day be in the same sadplight. This makes sailors ready to help each other, for they know thatsome day they may themselves be in a like state. 

The evening after this we sighted two sail, that is, we saw two vesselsjust as the sun was going down. The weather at the time lookedthreatening, but the wind was more fair than it had been for some time, and the captain did not like to shorten sail, as he was in a hurry toget to Callao. Toby Potts and I were in the first watch. The captainwas on deck. On a sudden he sang out sharply, "All hands, shorten sail!Two reefs in the topsails. Furl top-gallant sails. "

This last work was to be done by Toby and me. Up the rigging we ran. "Let's see which will have done it first!" cried Toby. 

I had given the last turn round my sail, and looked up to try if I couldsee through the gloom what Toby was doing, and thought I saw somethingfall from aloft. Toby was not on the yard. Just then I heard the cryfrom the deck of "A man overboard!" The ship had given a sudden lurchor roll to leeward. I slid down a backstay to the deck. Without amoment's thought I seized a hencoop loose on deck, and threw itoverboard. The gale which the captain had seen was coming, at thatinstant struck the ship. Over she heeled, till it seemed that she wouldnever rise again. Like a mad horse she rushed through the water. Sailswere flapping, ropes flying and lashing, and blocks swinging round hereand there. 

It was impossible to heave-to to lower a boat, and poor Toby was left tohis fate. I felt very sad when I found this. I wondered why it wasthat I was not taken instead of Toby, but just then I had not much timefor thinking. All on board had work enough to do. The captain gave hisorders in a clear voice, and rope after rope was hauled taut, and thesails were furled, that is rolled up, except the fore-topsail, which wasclosely reefed. With that alone set, we ran before the hurricane. Ihad heard that it is always smooth in the Pacific Ocean, but I now foundout my mistake; though perhaps there is more fine weather there than inany part of the world. I could not tell where we were running to all inthe dark, for we could not see ten yards ahead of the ship, but Isupposed the captain knew; still, after hearing of the many islands androcks and shoals in those parts, I couldn't help thinking what wouldbecome of us. The truth was that the captain could do nothing else; hecould not heave-to, and he could not see the dangers ahead, so he had totrust to God's mercy; and that's what, in many of the affairs of life, not only sailors but people on shore have to do. I heard him say to MrMarston, the first mate, "We've done our best; we are in God's hands, and He will never desert those who trust in Him. "

No one went below, that night, for all knew the danger we were in. Onwe flew, hour after hour, the wind in no way falling. I was thankfulwhen daylight appeared. 

Day came on quickly. A hand was now sent aloft to look out for dangers;the first mate followed him up. Scarcely had he got to the mast-headthan he cried out, "Breakers ahead! breakers on the starboard bow!"

The helm was put to starboard, and the mizen-topsail was set closereefed; the yards braced up, and the ship's head turned to port, awayfrom the threatened danger. On she dashed, the sea breaking over thebows and sweeping across the decks, so that we had to lash ourselves tothe rigging to prevent being carried away. The breakers seemed terriblyclose. I could see that if the ship once got among them, she would soonbreak to pieces, and not one of us could escape. 

The captain stood by the helm quite calm, watching the masts and spars, and giving a look every now and then at the reef, parts of which wecould see between the white foaming breakers. Slowly it seemed wepassed the reef. He took a long breath when it was at last seen overour quarter. The helm was put up, the mizen-topsail furled, the yardssquared away, and once more we ran before the gale. The wind fell atnight, though the sea ran very high and the ship tumbled about more thanever. 

Not till ten days after this did we enter the bay of Callao, the port ofLima. We could see in the distance, as the sun sank towards the west, the tall spires of the city of Lima high up on the hills, while farabove it rose the lofty mountains called the Andes, on the tops of whichsnow ever rests. More than a hundred years ago, an earthquake threwdown a great part of Lima, and a large wave rolling in, swept overCallao and utterly destroyed it. The new town we saw is at a distancefrom where the old one stood, and has three castles to defend the bay. I heard a great deal of the silver mines of Chili and Peru, and thequantities of silver which used to be sent from them to Spain. Each barof silver was, however, gained by the tears and groans, and often thedeath, of the poor natives, who were forced by the cruel Spaniards totoil in those mines. Many hundred thousand Peruvians have died in themsince the Spaniards discovered the country. Spain, I have read, hasnever been the better for her ill-gained wealth, and now she does notown an inch of land in all America. 

STORY TWO, CHAPTER 4. 

We had now landed all the goods we had brought from England, and foundthat we were to sail for Canton, in China, to procure a cargo of tea, which, it was understood, we were to take to Sydney, in New South Wales, and there to receive on board a cargo of wool to carry home. 

That we might not go empty to Canton, we were to visit some islands, where seals were to be caught, for the sake of their skins; and alsosome others farther west, where we were to collect sandal-wood. We hadno reason to complain of the treatment we received on shore; but, thoughthe climate is a fine one, and food plentiful, I am thankful that OldEngland is my home. 

Once more we were steering west, but we went greatly out of our propercourse to look for the island where seals were to be procured. It wasnot exactly marked down in the chart, and we were some time looking forit, having twice passed without seeing it. 

About three hundred miles away was another island, where a party of menhad been left by another ship belonging to our owners, to catch seals, and we had received orders to take all the skins they had prepared, andto carry them to Canton, but the men were to be left another year. 

The captain, not finding the first island, was about giving up thesearch, when, as I was aloft, I saw a small blue speck a long way off, just rising out of the water. I shouted out, "Land ho! Land ho!" Thefirst mate, who had charge of the deck, was soon up with me. The shipwas steered for it; it was the island we were looking for. 

We anchored in a bay on the western side, the only one which affordedany shelter. The whole island was surrounded by rocks, with here andthere patches of trees and shrubs; but most part of it was barren. Itwould have been a sad place to be cast away on. As there was no time tobe lost, we at once went on shore under charge of the second mate, withthe carpenter and his crew, to cut clubs for killing the seals, andstakes on which to hang up their skins to dry. The second mate, MrHudson, when a lad before the mast, had been here, and knew the bestspot where the seals came on shore. It was a deep sandy bay, with rockson either side. 

We went the next day to the nearest spot to the bay at which we couldland, and hauled the boats up on the beach. We then hid ourselves amongthe rocks, half on one side of the bay and half on the other, with ourclubs in our hands, ready to rush out among the seals at a sign from ourofficer. After waiting for an hour or so, the seals began to come onshore; the old males and females on either side, and the young ones inthe middle, in ranks as regular as soldiers on parade. The first rankworked their way on nearly forty yards from the water, and the restfollowed as close as possible. The sun was very hot, and they soon fellasleep, except the old ones, who were stationed on either side to keepguard. The mate kept us back for half an hour or more, saying that theywere not sound enough asleep. A seal is a curious animal, of nearly ablack colour, with a head something like a dog, with whiskers; a round, smooth back; flappers, which serve as feet, on either side; and a largetail, like that of a fish, divided in two. By the help of the tail andflappers they move quickly over the ground. At last the mate lifted uphis hand as a signal for us to begin the attack. We slid gently downthe rocks, and got between the seals and the water. The instant theysaw us, the old watchmen roared out a signal of alarm. It was too late. We began dealing blows with our clubs on either side as the seals triedto slip past us into the water. What with the roaring of the old onesand the yelping of the young seals, the shouts of our men, and the soundof our blows, there was a fearful din and uproar. A tap on the headsettled the young ones, but the old seals died hard, and there was nolittle danger, if a man fell, of being torn to pieces by them, as theirmouths are as large as lions', with sharp tusks. A seal's eye is likethat of a young calf, and looks as gentle and sensible as that of afavourite dog. We kept on killing as long as a seal remained on shore. We then set to work to skin them, and to hang up the skins on the frameswe had prepared. We had killed eight hundred seals, which was verysmart work. 

We skinned away till the evening, when we went on board, as the captainwould not let the ship be left without us, in case of the weatherchanging, and being obliged to run out to sea. 

The next morning we went again on shore and finished the work. As wehad some hours to spare before dark, we strolled about the island, ourchief object being to search for water. 

We saw several bays, where the seals were likely to come on shore, andnumerous bones of the sea lions, another larger sort of seal. I heard ashout ahead, "Hollo! what have we here?" Looking up, I saw a shipmatepointing to a hut at some little distance. We ran towards it, but drewback as we got near; for there, in the very doorway, were two skeletons, the head of one resting on the lap of the other. So they had died, theone trying to help the other, and too weak, after he died, to get up. By the furniture of the hut, and the implements in it, they werecertainly sealers, who had been left there by their vessel, which hadbeen probably lost. They, Mr Hudson thought, had died of scurvy, caused by want of fresh meat and vegetables. Two or three of our menshed tears when they saw the sight. I do not think that the sight of adozen men scattered about dead would have drawn a tear from their eyes. It was the way these two poor fellows had died that touched us. 

We had to remain five days, while the skins were drying, and then madesail for the island where we expected to find the sealers. Four dayspassed before we sighted it. As we drew near, a flag was seen flyingfrom a staff on the highest point. As there was no anchorage ground, wewere obliged to heave-to under the lee of the island; that is, on theside opposite to that towards which the wind blows. To heave-to is, asI have said, to place the sails so as to prevent the ship from movingmuch. As soon as this was done, two boats were lowered, and provisionsand stores of all sorts put into them. We pulled in between two rocks, and on the beach found six men ready to welcome us. They looked asavage set, but they gave us a hearty welcome; some almost wrung ourhands off, others nearly squeezed the breath out of our bodies, and thenthey leaped about, and clapped their hands, and laughed and cried likechildren. The reason was this, that, three days before, they had eatenup the very last morsel of food they had; and as no seals had come tothe island for some days, they had had nothing but a few shell-fish toeat. If we had not arrived, they would have been starved. They hadmade up their minds that such would be their fate, when the topsails ofour ship appeared above the horizon. 

They had been watching our sails all day, hoping that we should comenear, yet fearing that we might pass at a distance, and not see them. They were too weak to help unload the boats; but when they had tasted ofa good meal, which we quickly prepared for them, they gladly lent a handto carry the things up to their store. 

It might be supposed that, having so nearly suffered death from want offood, they would have been eager to get away; but they did not seem tothink of that. They were contented to remain, now that they had got agood supply of food, till their ship should call for them. They hadprepared four thousand skins, which we spent the whole of the next dayin getting on board. A more desolate spot it would be hard to find; andyet these men were content to remain another six months or more on it, with the chance, after all, of their ship being lost, or, for some othercause, not coming in time for them. Two of them could read, but strangeit seemed, they had no books, and were very thankful for six or sevenvolumes which we left them, one of them being a Bible. 

We felt very sorry to leave the poor fellows all alone, more sorry thanthey felt for themselves. Our course was now towards some islands inthe western Pacific, where we hoped to obtain sandal-wood. Thissandal-wood is used by the Chinese, in their temples, to burn as incensebefore their idols; for they are great idolators. It seemed to me thatif we took them wood to burn before their idols, we were, in a way, helping them in their idolatry; but I could not get others to see thematter in that light. 

STORY TWO, CHAPTER 5. 

We now passed several coral islands. One we saw quite near was aboutsix miles long, with a large lake in the centre, with an entrance to itfrom the sea. Outside the island, about a quarter of a mile off, was anarrow reef, just rising above the water. The sea breaking on this wasprevented from washing over the island. 

These coral islands are really made of coral; and made, too, by a littleinsect. It begins on the top of a rock far down under the water, whereit makes a house for itself; then it builds another above that, and soon, till it reaches the surface. It cannot build out of the water; butsea-weed first grows on it, and anything floating is caught by this, andstops; and then birds rest on it, and drop seeds, which take root. Thenthe sea washes bits of coral up from the outer edge, and thus a firmmass is formed, which rises higher and higher, as more trees grow anddecay, and more coral is washed up. A sandy beach is formed of brokencoral, and tall cocoa-nut trees grow up and bear fruit, and otherfruit-trees and vegetables and roots grow, and people come and live onthe island. There are many islands in the Pacific Ocean which have beenformed in this way, and which have long had people living on them. Some, however, are rocky, and have high mountains in them. Many ofthese have been thrown up by the means of fire, and are still burningmountains. Some are very beautiful, and have valleys and streams andfountains and rocks and trees of all sorts, and shrubs, and support alarge number of people. 

We were becalmed near one of them; and as we wanted water and freshprovisions, and the people were said to be well-disposed, the captaindetermined to send on shore. Two boats were manned and armed, in caseof accidents, and with a supply of goods to barter (cotton handkerchiefsand knives and hatchets), we pulled in. There was a reef outside, against which the sea broke, and, rising up, curled back in a mass offoam. We, however, found a passage through it, in which, though it wasvery narrow, the water was smooth. 

"Give way, lads, " cried Mr Hudson, who was in the leading boat. I waswith him. We pulled hard. A large roller came on after us. The waterfoamed up on either side, and in an instant it seemed we were in smoothwater. 

Numbers of people--men, women, and children--were on the beach toreceive us. They were of a light-brown colour, and wore very littleclothing. The women had short petticoats, and some of the men worecloaks, besides cloths round their loins. These clothes, I found, werelike thick paper, and are made out of the bark of a tree called thepaper-mulberry tree. It is steeped in water, and beat into cloth withwooden mallets by the women, and afterwards dyed of various colours. The men were armed with clubs and spears, but seemed very friendly. There were several houses near the shore, built of as poles made fromyoung cocoa-nut trees, and thatched with large leaves. The sides weremade of mats, which are drawn up in the daytime to let the wind blowthrough them, as the climate is very hot in winter as well as summer. As soon as the goods were landed, they were carried up to a house nearthe beach, which was the natives' trade-house. Here they brought allsorts of things which they thought we should want, mostly roots andfruits and vegetables and hogs, of which there seemed to be a largesupply. Mr Hudson, seeing all things ready, began a brisk trade. While it was going on, Bill Sniggs, who had come in the boat with me, asked me to take a stroll with him, as he was sure that we should beback again to go off in the boat. 

"But it is against orders for any one to quit the beach without leave, "said I. 

"Oh, not here; the people are friendly, and nothing was said about it, "he answered. 

"True enough, no harm can come of it, and I don't mind going a littleway, " I said, though I knew well enough that the order stood good forthis place and all others. Still I wanted to see the country, it lookedso very tempting. 

We walked on and on; now we climbed up a hill, from which we could seethe ship, and then crossed a valley, and went along a clear stream up toa beautiful waterfall. We passed a good many cottages of the sort Ihave described, and the people came out and offered us fruits and cookedroots, like sweet potatoes and perk. We couldn't help going into someof the houses, the people were so kind; besides, we were tired, as wehadn't taken such a walk since we came aboard the _Rose_. We neither ofus had a watch, and never thought how the time went. When we wererested, we got up, and, thanking the people of the house for theirkindness, went on our way, the country seeming more and more beautiful. 

At last I said to Bill that I thought we ought to go back; so we turnedour faces, as we fancied, towards the place we had come from. 

We went on some way, and then I stopped Bill, and said, "Bill, I don'tthink we are right; we are farther off than ever. "

We looked about to find a hill to climb, to judge where we were, but thetrees were so thick that we could see none. One thing we saw, that thesky was changed, and that clouds were passing quickly across it, andthat the tops of the trees were bending to a strong breeze. 

"Bill, " I said, "we ought to be back at the boats, for they'll be goingoff; we shall taste the end of a rope if we keep them waiting. "

"Never fear, we shall be in time enough, " answered Bill. "Why be putout? we can't help ourselves. "

That was true enough, then, but I knew that we ought not to have come atall. 

We went on some way till we came to another house. The people in itwere very kind, but we couldn't make out what they said, and theycouldn't what we said, though we tried to let them know that we wantedto find our way back to the boats. At last a young man seemed tounderstand what we wanted, for he took us by the hand and led us on. 

After some time we found that we were going up a hill, and when we gotto the top of it we could see the ocean. We looked, we rubbed our eyes;a heavy sea was rolling in, and far away our ship was beating off shore. For some time I could not speak a word. 

At last I said, "Bill, I fear we are left ashore, unless one of theboats has stopped for us. "

"Very likely that we are left, Tom, but not at all likely that one ofthe boats has stopped for us, " he answered. "Worse if she has; for weshall catch it soundly when we get on board. Take my advice, let uskeep out of the way and not go back at all. This is a pleasant countryto live in, much better than knocking about at sea. "

"No, no, I'd rather get a dozen floggings than leave the ship, and notgo back to Old England and see poor mother and brothers, and sistersagain. Haven't you got a mother and brothers and sisters, Bill?"

"Yes, but they don't care for me, " he answered. 

"How do you know that?" I asked. "Depend on it, Bill, they love you, and care for you, and may be this moment are praying that you may bekept free from danger. Come, at all events, let us go back to where welanded, if we can find the way. "

Our new friend stood watching us while we were talking, and when wepointed to the ship he shook his head, to show that we couldn't getaboard her; but when we pointed down to the shore he again took ourhands and led us on. We must have wandered by ourselves a long way, forwe were some time getting to the beach. There was not a sign of ourshipmates; we tried to ask where they had gone, but the natives hungdown their heads and looked sorrowful. 

"Bill, something has happened, " I said; "we must try to find out what itis. "

Our friend seemed to understand us better than the rest, so we asked himto learn from them what had happened. After much talking with hisfriends, he showed us by signs that the ship had fired a gun, and thenanother, and another, and that the white men had hurried to the boatsand shoved off; that the largest boat with Mr Hudson had got out safe, but that the smaller one was upset; some of the people in her weredrowned, and others swam out, and were picked up by the large boat. 

This was, indeed, sad news. Which of our shipmates have been lost?which of them have been saved? we asked one another. I had felt that ifthe boats had gone without us, Captain Bolton would not forsake us, butwould put back to take us off as soon as he could. Now, however, hewould suppose that we had been lost, as very likely no one would haveobserved that we were not with the rest, when they jumped into thesmaller boat to pull on board. 

"Oh, Bill! Bill! here we are left among savages; may be we shall neverget away, but have to spend all the days of our lives with them, " Icried out in a mournful tone. Bill began to cry, too. 

"Why, not long ago you wanted to remain, " I could not help saying. 

"That was when I thought that we should be flogged, and were sure to goaway, " he answered. 

"Do you know, Tom, I've heard say that some of these people arecannibals; that is, they eat human flesh. Perhaps when they find thatthe ship is gone, they'll kill and eat us. "

I said I hoped not, but still I didn't feel very comfortable; for I knewwhat he said was true. 

There was now, however, no help for it. "Captain Bolton will believethat we are lost, and when he gets home let our mothers know, and weshall be mourned for as dead, " said I. 

"They won't mourn for me, and I don't care, " said Bill. 

"They will mourn for me, and I should be very sorry if I thought theywouldn't, " said I. "Ay Bill, often at night, when the storm has beenraging, and the sea running high, and it seemed as if the ship would godown, or might be cast on some hidden reef, I've gone to sleep quitehappy, knowing that mother would be thinking of me, and praying for me, and that there was One who hears our prayers, watching over me. "

We were sitting down under some trees, on a hillock above the beach, from which we could still see the _Rose_ beating off under close reefedtopsails. After some time our friendly native came up and sat down byus. After a time, he signed to us to get up, and led us back to hishouse. Our friend, we found, was the son of the greatest chief in theisland. When we got back to the house we had a supper of fish and pork, and bread-fruit and other vegetables were placed before us. In themiddle of the house, as soon as it was dark, a fire of dried cocoa-nutleaves was lighted, and round this the family collected. What was oursurprise to see the young chief bring out of a chest a book, and beginto read. I looked at it, but though the letters were English, it was inhis own language. Then they all knelt down, and prayed, and sang apsalm. I knew it by the tune. 

"Why, Bill, I do believe these people are Christians, " said I. 

"So I suppose, Tom, if it is the Bible they are reading, " said Bill. 

"No doubt about it, " I said; "that's the reason they treated us sokindly. I've heard that missionaries have been out in these parts, andthey must have been here, and taught these people to be Christians. "

"If they are Christians, Tom, then, maybe they won't kill and eat us aswe thought they would, " said Bill, in a more cheerful voice than he hadspoken in before. 

I couldn't help almost laughing as I answered, "They would be odd sortof Christians if they did; but I'll tell you what, they'll think us veryodd sort of Christians if we don't kneel down, and say our prayers withthem. We needn't be afraid that any one will laugh at us, as we mighthave been aboard the _Rose_. "

"I can't say prayers, never learned, " said Bill; "you never saw mesaying them aboard the _Rose_. "

That was true; but mother had taught me to say mine, and I said them inmy berth, or to myself on deck, or wherever I could. I thought Billmight have done the same. I felt that we were put to shame by thesepoor savages, as we called them. So I begged Bill to try and say aprayer, but he said he couldn't, he didn't know what to say. I askedhim if he could say what I did, and so we knelt down, and he saidprayers after me. The natives seemed pleased, and the young chiefnodded his head to show that we had done what he thought right. I don'tsay there would have been any use in the form, or if I had done itmerely to please the natives, but I really did pray to God as truly as Iever did, but I own that, in a way, the natives shamed me into it. 

There was an old chief and his wife and two daughters, and three otherlads, besides our friend. They had all much more clothing on than theother people we had seen, and were more quiet in their manners. As soonas prayers were over, they hung up large pieces of native cloth from therafters, reaching to the floor, so as to form a number of little rooms. Mats were laid on the floor to form the bedding, and pieces of clothserved as coverlids. The pillow was a curious affair, being a thickpiece of bamboo, about four feet long, on little legs. We were showninto one of these rooms, and a sign made to us to go to sleep. Even thelargest houses have not a nail in them, but are fastened together withsennit, which is a line made from the root of a tree. I may say thateverything is fastened with sennit--canoes, as well as houses--so thatlarge quantities are used. 

We slept very soundly, having no longer any fear of being cooked andeaten. In the morning, as soon as it was daylight, the whole family wason foot, and before anything was done they had prayers, as in theevening; the young chief leading and reading more out of the Bible. Assoon as that was over, they all set about their daily work. The men andboys went into the fields to cultivate the taro and other roots, onwhich they live; while some of the women got out their mallets andboards to make the native cloth; others employed themselves in plaitingmats and baskets, which are so fine that they will hold water. Billthought that he was going to be a gentleman, and do nothing, as he said;but I said that if we didn't work we could not expect to be fed, andmade signs to the young chief that we were ready to help him. Hesmiled; perhaps he thought that we couldn't do much, and certainly wecould not hope to do anything as well as the natives did. They seemedto me a very clever people, considering the small means they had. Theyhave now iron tools, but they showed me those they had before theEnglish came to the island, very neatly made of flint and shells andbones. They made fish-hooks and spears, and many other things, ofbones. We soon learned from the young chief how to work in the fields, and to do a number of things, and it was a pleasure to work for him, hewas always so good-natured and kind. By degrees, too, I learned hislanguage, though Bill could not make much hand of it. I wanted to knowhow it was that he and his people had become Christians, and where themissionary lived who had taught them. At last I spoke well enough, withthe help of signs, to ask him. I should have said that his name wasMatua. He told me also, with signs and words, that the missionary livedin an island some way off, and that he, Matua, had been there severaltimes, and was soon going again to fetch a native missionary, or apreaching man; that one had been on the island, but that he was a veryold man, and had died some time before we came. He told me that he hada canoe preparing for the voyage. I asked him if he would let us gowith him, for that I should like to see the missionary, who was acountryman of mine, and that I might, through him, write home to myfriends in England. 

"Would you like to go to them again, or live on with me?" he asked. 

"I like you very much, but I love my mother and brothers and sistersmuch more, and if I have the chance, I shall try to go back to them, " Ianswered. 

"Very right, " he said, "but I shall grieve to lose you. "

The canoe was, at the time we first saw it, nearly finished. It wasbuilt like the houses, without a single nail, but all the planks weresewed together with sennit. It was about forty feet long, and scarcelythirty inches wide. It had a gunwale, and ribs and thwarts to keep itin shape. A thick gum was put at the seams to prevent the water gettingthrough. Being so narrow it would have upset, but it had an outrigger, which is a plank, or log, as long as the boat, pointed at the fore end. This rested on the water five or six feet from the canoe, and was keptthere by poles, fastened across the canoe. This was always on the leeside, as the canoes can sail both ways, stem or stern first. At one endthere was a deck, under which they kept their provisions, and on the topof which the chief sat. The men to move it had short paddles, likesharp-pointed shovels, and sitting with their faces to the bows, dug thepaddles into the water, which they sent flying behind them. We werevery sorry to part from many of our friends, but still the thoughts ofseeing a white man again, and hearing our native tongue spoken, made usglad; besides which, I hoped that somehow or other I should have thechance of getting home. 

STORY TWO, CHAPTER 6. 

We had got a good supply of provisions and water, in the canoe, and Iunderstood that the voyage might take us four or five days, or perhapsmore. The island looked very beautiful as we sailed away from it, and Idid not wonder that Matua loved it so much. His love for it made himundertake the voyage to fetch a missionary, for what he loved more thanits beauty were the souls of the people in it, over whom he ruled. Fortwo days the sea was smooth and the wind fair, though there was verylittle of it. When it fell calm, we paddled on at a good rate. On theevening of the second day, the sky looked threatening. Soon after thenext morning broke it began to blow very hard, and the sea soon got up, and tumbled the canoe about in a way which I thought must upset her, orsend her to the bottom. The sail was lowered, and while some paddledlustily, others, helped by Bill and me, baled out the water, of which weshipped a great deal, though none came through the seams. This showedhow strongly it was built. The canoe was kept head to the seas, but wemade no way, and it was very clear that we were driving before thegale, --not back to Matua's island, --though where we were going we couldnot tell. Matua sat steering as calm as possible. He said that he puthis trust in God, and did not fear the storm. He and his people weredoing all that could be done to preserve their lives, and that if it wasGod's will that they should die, they were ready. I should say thatthey had prayers and sang psalms morning and evening, and that theyprayed and sang now, only of course they could not stop paddling orbailing, or kneel down. Yet many white persons would have called thesepeople savages. It gave me an idea of the good the missionaries havedone in these seas. 

Though I had seen what a storm at sea is on board the _Rose_, I did notthink how terrible it was in a narrow canoe of thin planks just sewntogether. My wonder was and is that we did not go down, or break topieces. 

Five days we drove on before the gale. Twice we saw land in thedistance, but did not dare to try and reach it, indeed we could not ifwe had tried. The wind then fell, and the sea went down, and then welay floating on the water, but the men were too weary to paddle anymore. Our food also had grown very short, though we had eaten only justenough to keep life in us. It seemed a doubt whether we should haveenough to reach one of the islands we had seen. After sleeping for somehours, the crew seized their paddles, and we began to paddle back theway we had come. The next day it was a dead calm, and we saw rightahead a large vessel, barque rigged. Bill and I both thought she wasEnglish and Matua agreed to go alongside. As we drew near, I saw thatshe was a whaler from the cut of her sails, from her being high out ofthe water, and the number of boats shaped stem and stern alike. We werenow alongside. I told the captain, who asked us what we wanted, how wehad been driven out of our course, and begged him to tell me how wecould best reach Matua's island. 

"As to that, you have been driven three hundred miles to the westward ofit, if it's the island I fancy from your account, " he answered. "Itwill take you a pretty long time to get there; but I'll tell you whatI'll do, I'll give the canoe a tow for a couple of hundred miles, andthen take my advice, --do you ship aboard here; I shall be bound home insix months or so, and you won't have a better chance of getting there. If you wish to serve your friends, you can let your wages go in payment:I can't undertake to help these savages for nothing. "

The last part of this speech did not please me, but still I did notthink we could do better for ourselves or for Matua; so, after talkingit over with him, we agreed to Captain Grimes' offer. I first bargainedthat some food and water might be given to our friends, for had I notdone so, I fear that they would have had a scant allowance. To tow isto drag a boat or vessel by a rope through the water. We now wentaboard the ship, which was called the _Grampus_. She was a verydifferent looking craft from the _Rose_, and her officers and men were avery rough lot. The wind was fair, and the canoe towed very easily. Still Captain Grimes grumbled at having to take her so far. At last Isaid that I was ready to go back in the canoe if he wished to be off hisbargain. I found that he really wanted us, as one of the ship's boyshad died of fever, and another had been washed overboard with two of themen. "No, no; that will not do, " was his answer. "I'll take thesavages as far as I promised, and you two lads shall stay aboard. "

On the evening of the third day, Captain Grimes said that he had towedthe canoe the distance promised, and that she must be cast off. Matuaand our other friends were very sorrowful when they parted from us. Captain Grimes gave them some flour and water and biscuit andbread-fruit, and told them how to steer for their island. The canoe wasthen cast off. From that day to this, I have never been certain whetherthe island the captain spoke of was Matua's own island, or whether hereached it at all. I know that numbers of canoes are blown away fromthe land, and that some reach strange islands far, far-off, where theircrews settle, but that others are lost with all on board. 

The _Grampus_ was a vessel of 350 tons, --much smaller than the _Rose_--but she carried a larger crew. She had six boats, and each boat had acrew of six men. Often all the boats were away together, so that, besides the thirty-six men, in them, more were required to manage thevessel. The boats are about twenty-seven feet long, and four broad, andsharp at both ends. In each boat are two lines, 200 fathoms long, coiled away in tubs. In the end of one, an harpoon is fastened. Thisis a short spear, and is shot out of a gun like a blunderbuss. Thereare several such harpoons, and two or three long lances; besides, alantern, light-box, some small flags, and two or more "drogues, " whichare square bits of board to be fastened to the harpoon line, in order tohinder the whale when sinking or swimming away. 

It was some time before we fell in with a sperm whale. 

Men were stationed at the mast-head and yardarm, on the look-out forwhales, from sunrise to sunset; but it was two weeks before we got toour fishing-ground. One day, at noon, while those on deck had theireyes on the galley, waiting for dinner, we were aroused by a cry fromthe mast-head, of "There she spouts. "

"Where away?" asked Captain Grimes. 

The man pointed to the west, and there, not half a mile off, a thin jetof water was seen rising from a dark object, which we soon saw to be ahuge whale, as long as the ship, "There again, " cried the crew, as oncemore the jet rose high. 

Three boats were lowered; everything was kept ready in them. The crewslid into them. Away they went in chase, singing--

"Away, my boys; away, my boys: 'tis time for us to go. "

We watched the chase from the deck. 

"He is going down, " cried one. 

"No; he spouts again, he spouts again, " we all cried, as another jetrose in the air. 

"Yes; but he'll be down again, " said an old whaler. 

Still the boats dashed on, as if it was a matter of life and death. Thechief mate was in the leading boat. He had reached the whale just asthe monster gave a sign that it was going down. The oars were thrownup; the harpoon, shot with certain aim, sank deep into the monster'sside. A cheer rose from the men in the boats--we on board took it up. At the same moment the whale began to strike furiously with its hugetail, right and left, beating the water into foam. One of the boats wasstruck, and knocked to pieces, and the crew had to swim towards theother boats; another was upset, but the crew hung on to her as if theywere accustomed to it, and righted her. One of them got in, and baledher out; the oars and other articles were picked up, and away theypulled in chase. The whale, meantime, had sounded; that is, gone downtowards the bottom. A two hundred fathom line was run out, and anotherfastened on; a third was called for from another boat, and a fourth wasabout to be added, when the line became slack--the whale was rising. Awhale breathes the air like a land animal, and therefore cannot remainunder water many minutes at a time. Were it not for this, it could notbe caught and used by man. The line was hauled in, and coiled away inthe tub. Up came the whale at some distance, and off it darted at agreat rate, towing the fast boat, the others following. But he becamewearied with loss of blood and the weight of the boat. One of the otherboats got up, and a lance was plunged into him; then another, andanother. Again he began to lash about furiously--the boats backed awayfrom him. He made one leap, right out of the water, and then lashed histail more furiously than before. Then he once more went down, but onlyfor a short time. He soon appeared--swam slowly on--then thedeath-struggle came on. It was fearful to look at. Every part of themonster quivered and shook, and then he lay dead--our prize. 

The sperm whale we had taken is very different to the Greenland whale ofthe North. It had a blunt nose, like the bottom of a quart bottle;thin, pointed lower jaw; the eyes very far back, and a hump on its back;the tail or flukes being set on flat with the surface of the water, andnot up and down, like the Greenland whale. This one was eighty-fourfeet long, and thirty-six feet round the body, or, suppose it had beencast ashore, it would have been about fourteen feet high. The head wasof great size; it was nearly a third of the length of the wholecreature, and about nine feet deep. The head alone contained no lessthan a ton, or ten large barrels, of spermaceti. The dead whale wastowed alongside the ship. The head was cut off, and secured astern, that the oil might be dipped out of it. Hooks were then made fast toeach end of the body. Men, with ropes round their waists, and withspades in their hands, go down on the body of the whale. A large blunthook is then lowered at the end of a tackle. The man near the headbegins cutting off a strip of the blubber, or the coating of flesh whichcovers the body. The hook is put into the end of the strip, and hoistedup; and as the end turns towards the tail, the body of the whale turnsround and round, as the strip of blubber is wound off. When this isdone, the carcase is cast loose, and the head is emptied, and let goalso. On the deck are large cauldrons; the blubber is cut up into smallpieces, and boiled in them. Part of the blubber serves as fuel. Takingoff the blubber is called "cutting in, " and boiling it, "trying out. "At night, when "trying out" generally goes on, the deck of a whale-shiphas a strange and wild look. The red glare of the fires is thrown onthe wild, and I may say, savage-looking crew, as they stand round thecauldrons, stripped to the waist, their faces black with smoke, thelarge cutting-out knives in their hands, or the prongs with which theyhook out the blubber, all working away with might and main; for all areinterested in getting the work done. The crew of a whale-ship share inthe profits of a voyage, and all therefore are anxious to kill as manywhales as possible. There is no bad smell in trying out, and the workis cleaner than might be expected. 

The ship was very nearly full, that is, our barrels were nearly full ofoil, and the crew were beginning to talk of the voyage homeward, and ofthe pleasures of the shore, when one night as the watch below, to whichI belonged, was asleep, we were awakened by the fearful cry of "Breakersahead!" followed by a grinding noise and a shock which made the wholeship quiver through every timber. We rushed on deck. She was hard andfast on a coral reef. 

STORY TWO, CHAPTER 7. 

"Hold on for your lives, " shouted the captain as a huge wave, dimly seenthrough the gloom of night, rolled on towards us. It broke with fearfulforce against the ship, washed several of our poor fellows overboardwhose shrieks were heard as they were carried away to leeward. It threwher on her beam ends, and drove her farther on the reef, and with acrash all the masts fell together. Another and another sea followed andlifted the ship over the reef, where the water was smoother. 

"Out boats!" was the cry. "The ship is sinking. "

Three of the boats were launched, not without great difficulty; the restwere stove in by the falling masts. We had barely time to get into theboats before the ship settled down till her weather bulwarks alone wereabove water. We did not know if we were near land, and if near landwhether or not it was inhabited. We stayed in the boats near thevessel, hoping that daylight would soon come to show us where we were, and to enable us to get some provisions, if possible, out of her. Itcame at last. No land was in sight; only reefs and coral rocks allaround, some above, some under the water. 

We had no food in the boats, no water; our only hope was that the shipwould break up and things float out of her. Each sea which rolled inshook her till it seemed that she must break to pieces. At last herdeck was burst up, and we thankfully picked up a cask of beef, anotherof pork, and some flour and biscuit, and, what was of still moreconsequence, three casks of water. These things were divided among theboats. There was only one small boat-compass in the captain's boat. Hetold us to keep close to him, and that he would soon take us to a landwhere we should find all we wanted. With sad hearts the crew of thewhaler left the ship, and the product of their labours for so manymonths. Bill and I were together with the second mate. We werewell-nigh ready to cry, for though we had not lost anything, we weresorry for our shipmates, and we began to think that we should never gethome. 

For three days the weather remained fine, but on the fourth, as the sunwent down, it came on to blow. The sea too got up, and it became verydark. We kept the captain's boat in sight for some time, but she seemedto be going ahead of us. On a sudden we lost sight of her. We pulledon as hard as the heavy sea would let us to catch her up, but whenmorning broke, neither of the other boats was to be seen. The sky wasovercast, we had no compass to steer by, the sea ran high, our stock ofprovisions was low, our stock of water still lower. We were in a badway. There was no one to say, "Trust in God. "

The mate was ill before the ship was cast away. He now lost all spirit, and thought that his end was coming. He told us that we were stillnearly two hundred miles from land to the south-west of us, anddescribed the stars we should steer by. The next day he died, and twoother strong-looking men died within two days of him. The rest of themthought that they should never reach land. 

I said at last, "Let us trust in God. Let us pray that He will send ushelp. "

Two of the men answered that God did not care for such poor wretchedfellows as they were. 

I said that I was sure He cared for everybody, and that He would hear usif we prayed to Him, however poor and wretched we were. I only knowthat I prayed as hard as ever I did, and Bill prayed too. 

Two days more passed away. At night the stars came out, and we steeredthe course the mate had given us. I was at the helm looking now at thestars, now ahead, when I saw a dark object right before me. 

It was a ship sailing across our course. I shouted loudly. The shoutroused those who were asleep. They all sprang to their oars, and pulledaway as hard as their remaining strength would allow, we all shouting atthe top of our voices. I saw the ship heave-to, and I burst into tears. We were soon alongside, but without help we were too weak to get ondeck. 

I heard voices I knew giving orders. Yes, there stood Captain Bolton onthe quarter-deck, and Mr Alder seeing to the boat being hoisted up. Another person stood before me, watching the men helping us up, it wasToby Potts. Now I felt sure that I was in a dream. Toby had been lostso many months before on the other side of the Pacific. He did not knoweither Bill or me. No one knew us. That made it still more like adream. I forgot how many months had passed by since we were on boardthe _Rose_, and that we were well-nigh starved to death. 

The captain came round as we sat on the deck, and spoke very kindly tous, and told us that hammocks should be got ready, and that we shouldhave some food as soon as it could be warmed up. 

"Don't you know me, Captain Bolton?" I asked as he came up to me. 

He looked at me hard, as the light of the lantern fell on my face. "What! Tom Trueman! I should say, if I didn't believe that he has longago been in another world, " he exclaimed; "if it is Tom, I am right gladto see you, lad. Tell me how you escaped death. "

So I told him, and made Bill known, for he was in a fright, thinkingthat we should be punished for leaving the beach without leave. It didme good to see the pleasure the kind captain felt at finding that wewere alive. 

By this time some warm turtle soup was brought us, and a little weakbrandy and water, and then we were carried below and put into hammocks. 

It was not till the next day that I was certain I was not mistaken aboutToby Potts. He had floated on the very hencoop which I had thrown overto him, till the next morning, when one of the ships which we had seen, hove-to, passed close to him, and picked him up. That ship fell in withthe _Rose_ two or three weeks after we were supposed to have been lost, and Toby was returned on board. The _Rose_ herself had suffered muchdamage in a gale, and had put into harbour to repair; she had also beensome time in collecting sandal-wood, with which she was now on her wayto Canton. This accounted for our falling in with her, for I thoughtthat by this time she would have been far on her way home. 

We had a fine passage to Canton, or rather to Whampoa, which is as farup the river of Canton as ships go. The mouth of the river is known asthe Boca Tigris. The captain kindly took me to Canton; it is a mostcurious city. On the river are thousands of boats, the greater numbernot more than fourteen feet long, and twelve broad, and covered overwith a bamboo roof. In these whole families live from one end of theyear to the other, or rather from their births to their deaths. Thenthere were junks as big as men of war, with huge, carved, green dragonsat their bows, and all sorts of coloured flags. But the most curioussights are on shore. The city is surrounded by walls, and the houseslook as if they were cut out of coloured paper; the streets are sonarrow that only two sedan chairs can pass, and no wheel carriage entersthem. At each end of the street are gates, which are shut at night andguarded by policemen. The shops are all open in front, and all sorts ofcurious things are sold. The people themselves are odd looking, withtheir black hair in long tails hanging down their backs, and theiryellow or blue silk coats, and wide trousers and slippers. The greatmen walk about under big coloured umbrellas, or else are carried by twomen in a covered chair on poles. They are a very industrious, hard-working people, and every inch of land in the country iscultivated. Though they are so clever and neat-handed, and can do manythings as well as the English, yet they are idolaters. In theirchurches, or pagodas as they are called, there are ugly images, whichthey worship. They burn sandal-wood and bits of paper before them, which they fancy is like saying their prayers. The chief thing producedin the country is tea. 

When we had landed the hides, seal-skins, and sandal-wood, which we hadbrought, we took on board a cargo of tea, in chests. With this wesailed for Sydney, New South Wales, as the captain calculated that weshould arrive there about the time that the wool produced in that colonywould be ready to ship to England. There are many dangers in the seasbetween those two places. There are typhoons, which are strong, fiercewinds; and there are rocks and shoals; and there are pirates, mostlyChinese or a people like them, who attack vessels, if they can take themunawares, and rob them, and sometimes murder all on board. We escapedall dangers, and arrived safely off Sydney harbour. We entered betweentwo high headlands into a large bay or lake, in which any number ofvessels might lie at anchor. The city of Sydney is a fine-lookingplace, with towers, and churches, and large houses, and wide streets, and carriages in great numbers driving about, and vessels of all sortslying alongside the quays, two or three landing emigrants just arrivedfrom England; and then there are huge warehouses close to the harbour. Into one of them the tea we had brought was hoisted, and out of anothercame the wool, in large packages, with which the _Rose_ was to befreighted. What astonished me was to think that eighty years ago not awhite man was living in all that vast country, and now there are largetowns in all directions, and villages, and farms, and sheep-stations, and thousands upon thousands of sheep, some of the wool from whose backswe were now carrying home to be made up into all sorts of woollen goodsin our factories. 

With cheerful voices we ran round the capstan as we weighed anchor, wehoped to remain at our bows till we dropped it in the Mersey. Thewhaler's people had left us at Hong Kong, at the mouth of the Cantonriver. They said that we were too quiet for them. 

I should like to tell of our voyage home, not that anything wonderfulhappened. We continued sailing west till we arrived off the Cape ofGood Hope, and then we steered north, for Old England. We arrived atLiverpool in two months and a half after leaving Sydney, and a littlemore than two years from the time we sailed from England. CaptainBolton called me into the cabin, and told me that he was so well pleasedwith me that he would take me another voyage if I had a mind to go; butthat I might first go down into Dorsetshire to see mother and mybrothers and sisters, and friends. I thanked him very much, and saidthat I should be very glad to sail with him, and that I hoped to be backany day he would name. 

Well, I got home, and there was mother, and Jane come home on purpose tosee me, and Sam, and Jack, and little Bill grown quite a big chap, andall of them; and I blessed God, and was so happy. I had brought allsorts of things from China for them, and others from the South SeaIslands; and they were never tired of hearing of the wonders I had seen, nor was I tired of telling of them. 

Thus ended my first voyage; I have been many others, but this was thehappiest coming home of all. 

STORY THREE, CHAPTER 1. 

THE FORTUNES OF MICHAEL HALE AND HIS FAMILY. A TALE ABOUT LIFE INCANADA. 

The sun shone brightly out of a deep blue sky. His rays glanced on theaxes of several sturdy men, who with shirt sleeves tucked up andhandkerchiefs round their waists, were hewing away lustily at some tallpine-trees. A few had already fallen before their strokes, making asmall clearing in the thick forest. Through the trees the glitteringwater of a lake could be seen, but on every other side the thick forestalone stood up like a dark wall. Yet all that thick underwood and thosetall trees must be cut down and cleared away before the newly arrivedsettlers would find means of living. It was enough to try the boldhearts of the men as they looked round and saw the work before them. Not an inch of ground turned up, nor a hut built, and winter not so veryfar-off either. Yet it must be done, and could be done, for like workhad been done over and over again in the country. The ground rose atfirst gently and then steeply from the lake, while the splashing soundof a stream on one side gave promise of good water-power for the newsettlement. There were not only firs but many hard-wood trees. Suchare those which shed their leaves, maple, birch, oak, beech, and others, all destined soon to fall before the sturdy backwoodsman's axe. 

The scene I have described was in that fine colony of Old England acrossthe Atlantic Ocean, called Canada, and in a newly opened district of itsnorth-west part between the great river Ottawa and Lake Ontario. 

Old and young were all at work. There were some women and children ofthe party. The women were busy in front of some rough huts which hadbeen built Indian fashion, something like gipsy tents in England, andcovered with large sheets of birch-bark. They were soon made, with aridge pole, supported by cross-sticks ten feet long. Other thin poleswere placed sloping against the ridge pole, and then the birch-bark wasput on. The bark comes off the trees in lengths of eight or more feet, and two and three wide. 

By the side of the huts casks of provisions, pork, flour, tea, sugar, and such-like things, and household goods, were piled up, covered overwith bark or bits of canvas. In front of each hut was a fire, at whichsome of the women were busy, while others were dressing or looking afterthe younger children. 

"Breakfast ready, breakfast ready, " cried out the women one after theother, as they placed ready for their husbands and sons savoury dishesof pork, or beef, and fish, with hot cakes of wheaten flour orIndian-corn, baked in the ashes, to be washed down with good tea, sweetened with maple sugar. Of milk and butter of course there wasnone. The men soon came in, and sat down on the trunks of trees rollednear for the purpose, with appetites sharpened by their morning's work. 

With one of the families we have most to do. The father, Michael Hale, was a broad-shouldered, fair-haired, blue-eyed man, with a kind, honestlook in his face. Following him came his three stout sons, Rob, David, and Small Tony, as he was called, and small he was as to height, but hewas broad and strong, and so active that he did as much work as any ofthe rest. He was such a merry happy little chap, with such a comicalface, so full of fun, that he was a favourite everywhere. 

Two men also sat down to breakfast whom Michael had hired to help himclear his ground. 

Mrs Hale had two stout girls well able to help her, and three smallerchildren to look after, while her eldest girl, Susan, had gone out toservice, and was getting good wages. 

"Well, Martha, I hope that we shall have a house ready for you and thelittle ones in a few days in case rain should come on. We've got stuffenough to build it with, " said Michael, pointing to the huge logs he hadbeen felling. 

"We do very well at present in the hut, " answered his wife, smiling. "Ihave a liking for it--no rent and no taxes to pay; it is ours--the firstdwelling we ever had of our own. "

"Ay, wife; and now we have forty acres of land too of our own: littlevalue, to be sure, as they are; but in a few months, when we have putwork into them, they'll yield us a good living, " observed Michael, glancing his eye down his allotment, which reached to the lake. "Weshall have four acres cleared, and our house up, before the snow setsin; and if the boys and I can chop three more in the winter, we shallhave seven to start with in the spring. "

"You'll do that, master, if you work as you've begun, " said Pat Honan, one of the men Hale had engaged to work for him. "Arrah now, if I hadthe wife and childer myself, maybe I'd be settling on a farm of my own;but, somehow or other, when I go to bed at night, it isn't often thatI'm richer than when I got up in the morning. "

"You won't have the whiskey here, Pat; so maybe you'll have a betterchance. Just try what you can do, " said Michael, in a kind tone. 

"Ah, now, that's just what I've thried many a day; and all went righttill temptation came in my way, and then, somehow or other, the throatwas always so dhry that I couldn't, for the life of me, help moisteningit a bit. "

Pat's companion, another Irishman, Peter Disney, looked very sulky atthese remarks, and Michael suspected that he had often proved poor Pat'stempter. 

Near Michael's tent there was another, owned by an old friend of his, John Kemp. They had come out together from the same place in England, and for the same reason. They had large families, and found work hardto get at fair wages. Michael Hale was a day labourer, as his fatherwas before him. He lived in a wild part of Old England, where schoolswere scarce. He had very little learning himself; but he was blessedwith a good wife, who could read her Bible, and she had not much time toread anything else. Michael fell ill, and so did two of his children(that was in the old country); and when he got better, he found that hisold master was dead. For a long time he went about looking for work. One day he called at the house of a gentleman, one Mr Forster, fivemiles from where he lived. 

"I cannot give you work, but I can give you advice, and maybe help, "said Mr Forster. "If you cannot get work at home, take your family toa British colony. I am sending some people off to Canada, to a brotherof mine who is settled there; and, if you wish, you shall go with them. "

"Where is Canada, and what sort of a country is it, sir?" asked Michael. 

"It is away to the west, where the sun sets, and across the AtlanticOcean; and a vessel, sailing at the rate of nine or ten miles an hour, takes between twelve and fourteen days to get there. It is a countryfull of large rivers and lakes and streams, and has railroads runningfrom one end to the other. There is much forest-land to be sold; and aman working for another for one or two years is generally able to savemoney and to buy a farm, and set up for himself. The climate is veryhealthy. The summers are hotter than in England, and the winters muchcolder. The ground is then covered thickly with snow; but the snow islooked on as a blessing, as, when beaten down, a capital road is madeover it, and besides it makes the earth fertile. Everything that growsin England will grow there, and many things besides, such asIndian-corn, or maize. Though the summers are short, they are very hot, and corn is quickly brought to maturity. A man must work there, aseverywhere, for a living; but if he keeps from drinking, he is sure toget plenty of work, and to be well paid. "

"I think, sir, that country will just suit me, " said Michael. "I findit a hard matter to get work; and when my boys grow up, it will be stillworse. "

"Well, think it over, " said Mr Forster. "If you can get work, staywhere you are; if not, remember what I tell you, that Canada is a finecountry for a hard-working, strong man; and that if you determine to gothere, I will help you. "

Michael thought over the matter, and talked over it with Martha, andthey agreed to go. Michael Hale told his neighbour, John Kemp, what hewas thinking of doing. When John heard that Michael was going, he saidthat he would go too, for much the same reason; he had five children, and might have many more; and the day might come when he could get nowork for himself or them either. 

Michael could not have got out if it had not been for the help given himby Mr Forster; but John Kemp had a cow and calf, two pigs, and somepoultry; and, by selling these and the furniture, he had enough to payhis passage, and some money over. They went to Liverpool, where MrForster took a passage for them on board a large ship, with nearly threehundred and fifty other persons, also going out to settle in Canada. 

They felt very strange at first; and when the ship began to roll fromside to side, and to dip her head into the big seas, they did not knowwhat was going to happen; but it soon got smooth again, and though theywere nearly a month at sea, they were not the worse for the voyage. Theship was some days sailing up a large river, called the Saint Lawrence, which runs right across Canada, from west to east. They only went uppart of the way in her, as far as Quebec, a fine city, built on a steephill. They thought the high mountains very fine on the sides of theriver, and wondered at the curious places where settlers had built theirhouses. Wherever there was a level spot on the side of the mountains, some quite high up, there was sure to be one or more fields, an orchard, and a cottage. They were told that these were the farms of Frenchpeople, whose fathers had come over to the country many years ago, whenit was owned by France; and that a great many French still live in theeast part; but that in the west, where they were going, the inhabitantsare nearly all English, or Scotch, or Irish. They found that there wasan agent at Quebec, a government officer, as well as at every largetown, whose business it is to tell newly arrived emigrants all about thecountry, how to get up to where they want to go, and to help those whowant it. 

Michael and his friends went up to Montreal, another large city, in abig steamer. From Montreal they went on sometimes in a railway; then ina small steamer on a river, then on a canal; then across two or threelakes, and again on a river and canal; and then they landed, and wentacross country in a wagon, and for some miles over a lake, and along ariver, in an open boat, till at last they reached the place where MrForster's brother lived. Here Michael and John engaged themselves toserve two settlers, at good wages, for a year; their wives were to cookand wash; their cottages and food were found them; while the childrenwere to go to school, and to help in harvest and other times when theywere wanted. Michael and John agreed that they had good reason to besatisfied with the change they had made. 

For two years Michael and John worked on steadily for their masters, asdid their wives and elder children, getting good wages, and spendingvery little. They were employed in clearing the ground; that is, chopping down trees, under-brushing, cutting the underwood, building loghuts, fencing, ploughing, and digging, road making--not as roads aremade in England, though, but with logs and planks--and building cartsand wagons, and bridges too; indeed, there were few things they did notturn their hands to. 

Now, with fifty pounds each in their pockets, over and above what theyhad laid out in provisions and stores for the winter, they had come upto take possession of forty acres apiece of freehold land, for part ofwhich they had paid, the rest was to be paid for by a certain sum eachyear. They had to lead a rough life, but they did not mind that; theyknew what they were to expect. They did not fear the cold of winter;for their log-houses would have thick walls, and they had large ironstoves with flues, and plenty of fuel to be had for the trouble ofchopping. After the snow had fallen, the boys would chop enough in afew days to last them all the winter, and pile it up in a great heapnear the house. They had plenty of clothing, and they had found theclimate, in summer or winter, as healthy as they would wish. 

They were not long at breakfast, and did not give themselves much timeto rest, but up they were again, axes in hand, chopping away at the biggiant trees which came crashing quickly down one after the other beforetheir strokes. 

STORY THREE, CHAPTER 2. 

It seemed a difficult job to get rid of all the trunks now they weredown cumbering the earth, after enough were kept for the log-house, andfencing, and firing. The only way was to burn them. It was done inthis manner: the largest tree in a group was felled first, and all roundwere made to fall across it, others were put above it with handspikes. The boughs and brush-wood were placed under and above it, till a hugeheap eight feet high was formed. A number of these heaps were made, andwhen the day's work was done they were set on fire. It was a curioussight at night to see them all blazing together, lighting up the darkforest, and the faces of the men, and the huts, and those around them. On the first night several new settlers came rushing over to Michael'sclearing to learn what was the matter, thinking the forest was on fire. The men had indeed to take care that the flames did not spread to theother trees. The stumps of course remained, and it would take six oreight years before they would rot away. Michael had learned to makepotash out of the ashes which he could sell at 7 pounds the barrel. 

The log-house, or rather hut, was next built. Four logs were first laiddown on the ground to mark out the shape of the hut, the ends beingnotched to fit into each other. The upper sides of the logs were thenhollowed out, so that the next tier of logs fitted into them. Thesewere also notched. In the same way others were placed above these tillthe walls were of the proper height. The front wall was higher than theback one, so that the roof sloped from the front to the back. Therewere now the four walls, but no door and no windows. These were sawedout and frames fitted into them. The roof was made of smaller logs. Alog was split in two and hollowed out so as to form a trough. A row oftroughs was then put on side by side, sloping from the front wall to theback, the hollow part up. Over the edges of these were next placedother troughs with the hollow down. It was just as rounded tiles areused for roofs in England. The troughs stuck out some way both beforeand behind to protect the walls. This sort of roof, from being verythick, keeps out the cold in winter, and the heat in summer. The spacesin the walls between the logs were then filled up with clay. Awell-made door and thick shutters being fixed up, and a large stovelighted, Michael found even in the coldest weather, that his log hutcould be kept far warmer than had been his cottage in the old country. The hut was divided into three rooms, a large one in the middle to servefor the kitchen, the parlour, store-room, and boys' sleeping room; andone on each side, --one of them was for himself and wife and two youngestchildren, and the other for the girls. 

Michael and his boys made all the furniture out of slabs. The slabswere made in this way: they took a clean straight-grained pine-tree andcut it into logs eight feet long. One end of each was lined out intoplanks, three or four inches thick, and then split with wedges. Theythen fixed the plank into notches with wedges between two logs, andsmoothed them with the axe and plane. Thinner planks were made out ofthe white cedar, which splits very freely. The fir planks served forthe flooring of their bed-rooms, and for shelves and cupboards. 

As they for the first time sat round the table just finished by Michael, they thanked God heartily who had brought them to a country where steadyhard work could gain for them so many comforts. 

Some of the settlers were not quite so well pleased as Michael. Theywere not so handy with their tools. John Kemp had more daughters, andhad not made or saved so much as Michael. He had no stove, but he madea fire-place after this fashion. Four very wide ladders were placed ina square, a little way from the wall, passing through the roof. Infront some of the bars were left out. Clay mixed with straw was thenkneaded round the rounds, or steps of the ladders and all the rest ofthe space between them filled up with clay, so that all the wood wasthickly covered. The part where the bars were left out was the front ofthe fire-place. It drew very well and threw out a great heat. 

It was a great thing to have all the stuff for building and fencing onthe ground. The fences were made of rough logs piled up one on anotherin a zigzag form. This is called a snake fence. The stumps were stillin the ground. It would take some years to get them out, but Michaelknew that he could even plough between those farthest apart, and dig inother places, and that wheat and Indian-corn and potatoes were sure togrow well. 

Some time before, a road to the settlement had been marked out throughthe forest. This was done by blazing the trees, that is cutting a pieceof bark off each with an axe. Choppers were now set to work to cut downthe trees, and burn them off, but the stumps were left standing, and thecarts and wagons had to wind their way along between them. Where theground was swampy, trunks of trees were placed close together across theroad: this is what is called a corduroy road. Other roads were plankedover with fir, and called plank roads; others were of gravel. In all ofthem the stumps had been grubbed up, or rotted out, or blown up. 

Michael's settlement, Thornhill, as it was called, was able to get onpretty well without a road, as it could be reached by the lake andriver. Michael and John together made a canoe that they might get aboutthe lake. It was formed from a large log, and hollowed out. The boyslearned soon to paddle in it almost as fast as the Indians could. Whenthe winter set in, and the snow lay thick on the ground, roads were madeon it by beating it down hard. Over these roads sleighs, that is cartson runners, were able to travel faster than those on wheels. 

So hard had Michael and his sons worked, that before the frost set inand the snow came down, they had been able to sow three acres of theirground with wheat, which they hoped would give them a good supply offlour for the next year. "If the reason is early, I hope that we mayget a spring burn of three or four acres more;" said Michael to hisboys. "Then we'll plant it with Indian-corn, and pumpkins, andpotatoes, and turnips, and carrots, and cabbages, and onions, and othergarden stuff. In a short time we shall not have much to buy in theshape of food, as soon as we can raise enough for pigs and fowls, andkeep a cow or two. "

As yet nothing particular had happened to Michael Hale and his family. They had worked on steadily, and were already reaping the reward oftheir industry. 

STORY THREE, CHAPTER 3. 

Before October was over bad weather came on, and the settlers who hadonly just come to the country began to cry out that the winter would beupon them before they were ready. They were, it is true, muchbehindhand, for though many of them had far greater means than MichaelHale and John Kemp, they had not their experience, and often threw awaymuch labour and time uselessly. They were wrong as to the weather, too, for the Indian summer came, and this year it lasted nearly three weeks. The air was pure and cool, though there was not a cloud in the sky, butthere was a haze which made the sun looker redder than his wont, and didnot let his rays strike as hot as they had done in the summer. It was avery fine time, and the new settlers said that they had seen nothinglike it in the old country. The leaves on the trees too changed to allsorts of bright colours--orange and yellow and pink and scarlet andblue--till the wood looked like a big flower-garden; the beech turned toa straw colour; the maple on one side was light green, and on the otherscarlet and yellow and pink and many other colours; the oak became of adark, shining copper, but there was more scarlet and yellow on most ofthe trees than any other colour. 

Among the settlers was a Mr Samuel Landon. He was a kind-hearted man, and had good means, but had not had the practical experience whichMichael possessed, and which was of more value to him than money. MrLandon often came across to Michael's clearing to ask his advice. Heand his family had reached Canada at the same time as the Hales. He hadlived at the city of Montreal for some time, and spent much money; thenhe had travelled about the country and spent more. That money would nothave been thrown away, but he bought land which he did not like, andsold it at a loss. Now he had bought a second lot. Anybody looking athis and Michael's lot at the end of the fall would have been able to saywhich of the two was most likely in the course of a few years to be themost prosperous settler. 

Still Michael Hale was to have his trials. Few men go through lifewithout them. A letter came from Susan to say that she was ill andwished to come home. She begged that some one would come and meet her. Michael could not leave, and he wanted one big boy to help him, so itwas settled that Rob and Tony should go. They had a long journey beforethem. First the voyage along the lake and down the river, and then along tramp through the forest of three or four days. There was no road, but the trees were blazed they knew, and they had no doubt about findingthe way. "Fanny sends her love to Susan, and is very glad she is cominghome, " said Mrs Kemp, as Rob went to wish her good-bye. Fanny was MrsKemp's eldest girl, and a very pretty, good girl she was. Her nextgirl, Ann, was not quite right in her mind, though she could do what shewas bid. Their next girl was too young to be of much use. There wereseveral boys--Bill, and Tommy, and John, all able to do something tohelp their father. Just as Rob Hale was shoving off, Tommy Kemp, who, though not so old as Tony, was a great friend of his, came running downto the lake, and begged that he might go with them. They were glad of acompanion and took him in. They made very good way along the lake, butthe weather began to grow bad before they reached the mouth of theriver. Dark clouds gathered, the wind rose, the thunders roared, andthe lightning flashed brightly. 

"Let us get on shore, for we shall have the rain down thick upon us, "cried Tony. "We shall keep dry if we get under a tree. " As he spoke aflash of lightning struck a tall tree near the shore. It was split in amoment from top to bottom, and a huge branch torn off. 

"It is well that we were not on shore, " said Rob. "Where should we havebeen now if we had got under that tree? God saved us, for it is thevery place I thought of going in for shelter. There is a sandy pointfarther on, we'll go there. "

The lads drew their canoe up on the point; then they turned her bottomup and got under her. They had just done this when the clouds seemed tobreak open and empty their contents down on them. The wind roared, thewaves came rolling almost up to the canoe. They could scarcely hold itdown. All this time the thunder roared, and the lightning flashed, andthe crashing of falling trees was heard. 

"Oh! oh! we are all going to be washed away!" cried Tommy in a fright. 

"No fear, Tom, " said Tony; "all we've to do is to hold on to the canoe, and to our baskets of grub, and then, if we are washed away, we shall beable to turn the canoe over and get into her. "

This idea made poor Tommy happier till the wind ceased. When they gotout from under the canoe, they found that the wind had blown down thetrees right through the forest, just as if a broad road had been cut init, but it had not touched them either on one side or the other. Therewere still some hours of daylight, so they paddled on. They passed manycanoes with Indians in them. They are made of the birch-bark, and sewedtogether with thread made from the root of a shrub; the seams are thencovered over with gum and resin; the ribs are very thin, and made ofwhite cedar. They look very pretty, and are so light that two men cancarry one, which will hold eight or ten persons, a long way over land. It is in this way that people travel in the wild parts where there aremany rivers. They paddle along the river till they come to the end ofit, and then two of them lift the canoe out of the water, and run alongover the ground--it may be a mile or it may be a dozen--till they cometo another river or lake, into which they launch it; the rest carry thefreight on their backs. In that way they go hundreds of miles acrossNorth America, indeed almost from ocean to ocean. 

The lads were going down the river, when they came near some very strongrapids, with a fall of several feet beyond. When the river in thespring was very full, this fall could be shot. Rob had got close to therapid before he saw how strong the current was running. To get to landhe turned the canoe round, and paddled across the river. There was asmall island just below where the canoe was. Rob wished to cross aboveit. A tree with large branches had fallen, and stuck out into thestream. "Lie down at the bottom of the canoe, " said Rob to Tommy, wholooked frightened. "Now, Tony, paddle your best. "

Do all they could, the canoe was carried quickly down by the current, close to the island. At that moment, Tommy, seeing the tree, caughthold of a branch, and swung himself up. As he did so, with a kick heupset the canoe, and both Rob and Tony were thrown out of it. Away itfloated, but Rob and his brother had kept hold of their paddles; andRob, seizing Tony, swam with him to the island. 

Tommy was too much frightened to know what he was about: and when hisweight brought the bough down into the water, instead of dragginghimself up he let go, and away he was swept by the current. "Oh saveme, Rob! save me! save me!" he cried out. 

"Swim across the stream, lad, and I'll come to you, " answered Rob, whowas carrying Tony to the island. 

Instead of doing that, poor Tommy tried to swim up the stream, and ofcourse was carried lower and lower towards the rapid. 

Rob found it a hard task to get Tony safe to land. As soon as he haddone so, the two scrambled across the island to see what had become ofpoor Tommy and the canoe. They had not heard his voice for a minute ormore. He was not to be seen. An eddy had taken the canoe and carriedit nearly over to the other side. "That eddy will help us, " said Rob:"we must go and look for Tommy. "

Tony did not like to go into the water again; but Rob, telling him tohold on by the paddle, took the other end in his mouth, and swam boldlyoff towards the canoe. Tony held on, striking with his legs, but hecould hardly help crying out for fear of sinking. He thought all thetime of Tommy, and what had become of him. 

Rob swam on. He was very thankful to reach the canoe. He then madeTony catch hold of it, and pushed it before them till they reached thebank. They lost no time in drawing it on shore, and they looked roundfor Tommy. He was not to be seen. Before they could launch the canoeagain they had to drag it over the grass a hundred yards or more. Oncemore in the river below the falls they looked about on every side, shouting Tommy's name. No answer came. It seemed too likely that hewas lost. They hunted for him round every rock, and among all thebushes overhanging the stream, and the fallen trees floating in it, andclinging to the bank with their roots. Not a sign was there of Tommy. The evening was coming on; it was yet some way to the log hut, wherethey proposed to stop for the night. Though they feared that he waslost, they did not like to leave the place without finding his body. They paddled first on one side of the stream, then on the other; thenthey went up close to the falls. "We must give it up, I fear, " saidRob. 

"Poor, poor Tommy! Oh dear! oh dear!" cried Tony. "Why did he go anddo it!"

"It will be sad news at home, " said Rob. "I am thankful that it wasn'tyou, Tony; but I had rather it had been anybody but Tommy. "

"Don't let us give up, then, " said Tony. "May be he's farther down thestream. I won't believe that he's dead till I see him dead. "

Strive to the last. That is a good principle. It was one Tony held to, young as he was. They slowly paddled down the stream, looking aboutthem as before. There was a small island some way down like the oneabove the falls. They paddled up to it, and were going round it, when alog of timber was seen caught in the branches of a tree, which had beenblown down, and hung into the water. On the inner end sat Tommy, clinging to the bough above his head. He still seemed too much scaredto know exactly what he was about. When his friends shouted his name, he only answered, "Yes; here I am. " Tony, in his joy at getting himback alive, gave him a hug which nearly again upset the canoe. Tommyseemed scarcely to know what had happened, and thought that he was stillon the island above the falls. It seemed that he had got hold of thelog as it was floating by, and that he was carried with it over thefalls, and thus his life was saved. The three lads now paddled on till, just at dark, they reached Roland's shanty, as it was called. 

Roland, an old Scotchman, was an oddity. He called his shanty the WhiteStag Hotel; and had, chalked up on a board, a figure, under which he hadwritten "The White Stag. Accommodation for man and beast. " Except, however, a gallon of whiskey, a jar of beef-tallow, and some Indian-cornbread, he had nothing to set before his guests. The bread and tallowwas washed down with burnt-crust coffee, as they did not touch thewhiskey. "I ken ye'd be glad o' that if ye was lost in the woods, " hesaid, when he saw the faces of the lads. "What mair can ye want? Dryyour clothes, and then there are your beds for ye. " He pointed to aheap of spruce fir tops, in a corner of the hut. Though the food wascoarse, and their beds rough, the lads slept soundly. They had food oftheir own, but they wished to husband that for the woods, where theymight get none. 

Leaving the canoe under charge of Roland, the next morning they begantheir tramp through the forest. The trees were blazed, and there was abeaten track all the way. They were well-known to Roland, and as theywere setting off he offered Rob the loan of his gun, with some shot andpowder, he having had one left by a settler, who had not come back forit. With a good supply of food on their shoulders, and axes in theirbelts, they went on merrily. 

STORY THREE, CHAPTER 4. 

Alone a person feels somewhat sad walking on hour after hour through thedark forest, but that is not the case when there are several. The youngtravellers stopped to dine near a stream, and watched the squirrelsbusily employed in gathering in their winter stores of butter, hickory, and other nuts. 

At night they camped out. Cutting a ridge pole, they fastened itbetween two trees; and then, on the side next the wind, leaned againstit other poles with pieces of bark and branches. In front of this rudehut they made up a large fire, and cut a store of wood to last them allnight. Their beds were spruce fir tops, and their coverlids theirbuffalo robes which they carried strapped on their backs. 

On the second day, about noon, as they were walking along in Indianfile, one after the other, Rob leading, a fine deer slowly trottedacross his path. He had time to unsling his gun, which he carried athis back, and to fire before the animal was out of sight. He hit it, but the deer bounded on. He and his companions followed in chase, Robreloading as he ran. The blood on the fallen leaves showed that thedeer was ahead. On they went, mile after mile; every moment theythought that they would come up with it. At last more blood was seen onthe leaves, and in an open glade there stood the stag. Once more, asthe young hunters drew near, he was starting off, when Rob fired, and hefell. Here was a fine supply of venison for the rest of their journey. It was a pity that they could not carry the skin. They cut up theanimal, and loaded themselves with as much of the best part of the meatas they could carry. This they secured by thongs cut from the skin. The other joints they hung up by the thongs to a tree, while the carcaseremained on the ground. 

While they were so employed, some flakes of snow began to fall. Atfirst they did not think much of this. The flakes were thin, and didnot cover the marks on the grass. "Come, boys, we must hurry on, or weshall not easily find the blaze again, " observed Rob. 

They walked as fast as they could with their fresh loads. As there wasno wind, they did not complain of the cold. The flakes fell thicker andthicker. "Where is the track?" cried Rob on a sudden. They could seetheir footmarks behind them, but in front there was not a trace left. 

"Go ahead, " said Tony. "The stag kept a straight line, and we have onlyto look behind us and see that ours is straight and we shall soon findthe blaze. "

Rob did not think this. He was sure before they had gone far that theywere bending very much, now to one side, now to the other. No sunshone. There was no wind to guide them. Rob, after some time, remembered that he had heard that the moss grew thickest on the northside of the trees. On that side the trunks looked light and cheerfuland on the other dark and spotted. They had gone some way before hethought of this. Tony and Tommy cried out that they were very hungry, for they had had no dinner before they saw the deer. Rob wanted to findthe blaze first. They walked on and on, looking carefully at the trees. No blaze was to be seen. At last the boys said they could go nofarther without eating, and Rob himself was very hungry. So they pickedup dry sticks; and soon had a fire blazing, and some bits of venisontoasting before it. The snow fell thicker than ever. They scraped someup and put it into their kettle and made some tea. Once more they wenton, feeling much stronger. 

"We must soon find the blaze, " Rob said more than once; but he waswrong. Night drew on. No blaze was to be found. "We must make a campbefore it is too dark, " he said at last. 

No time was lost. He had his axe soon at work cutting poles and boughsand firewood, the boys helping him. A fallen trunk formed the back. Between two in front they fastened a long pole and rested the otherpoles and boughs between it and the trunk. They did not wish for betterbeds than the spruce fir tops gave them. A fire soon blazed up in frontof the tent. Tony and Tommy were as merry as crickets. They had plentyto eat and the fir tops made them a soft bed, while the fire kept themwarm. It was settled that one of them at a time should keep awake toput wood on the fire. Tommy had the first watch. Then he called Robwhen he thought he had watched long enough. Of course Rob got the mostwatching. At last he called Tony and charged him to keep awake. 

"Never fear about me; I'll be broad awake till it's time to call Tommyagain, " said Tony. 

Rob had built up the fire, so that Tony had not much to do. He sat upfor some time, warming his hands and watching the blazing logs. Then hethought that he would sit down rather more inside the tent for a littletime. He did nod his head now and then, but that was nothing, hethought. He was sure that he had his eyes wide open. After some timehe heard a howl--then another, and another. A number of animals howledtogether--wild beasts--wolves. He thought, "I hope that they are a longway off. " They were not loud enough as yet to awake his sleepingcompanions, but they were coming slowly nearer and nearer. Tony rubbedhis eyes. Was he awake? He looked up. The fire was almost out. Therewas no doubt about the howl of the wolves. They were much nearer thanhe had fancied. The flame on a sudden burst out of the embers, and outof the darkness several pairs of fierce eyes glared at him. 

"Rob! Rob! Tommy! wolves!" he shouted out, at the same time seizing astick from the fire, and waving it about. 

Rob and Tommy were on their feet in a moment, and each taking up aburning stick they made a rush towards the wolves. They were not aninstant too soon, for the fierce beasts having scented the venison, werejust going to rush at them. The fire-sticks kept them off, but they didnot go far. There they stood in a circle howling away at the threeyoung travellers. While Tony and Tommy threw more wood on the fire, Robstepped back and loaded his gun, which he had forgot to reload after thesecond shot at the deer. The wolves seeing that the fire-sticks didthem no harm, and being very hungry, were coming on, when the boys oncemore shouting at the top of their voices, and stirring up the fire, Robfired at the biggest of the pack, who seemed to be the leader. Over thecreature rolled, and his companions taking flight with fearful yellsdrew back into the forest. Tony said he was sure they stopped andlooked round, every now and then yelling together, and asking each otherto turn back and renew the attack. 

The lads at last lay down, but all night long the wolves kept up theirbowlings close to them with snarls and other noises. 

"I dare say now that those fellows have got some carcase or other, andare making merry over it, " said Rob. 

The watchmen did not fall asleep again during the night. When daylightcame back the snow had ceased falling, but it lay an inch thick on theground. 

"We must find the blaze before breakfast, " said Rob, as they strappedtheir things on to their backs. In all directions they saw the marks ofthe wolves' feet on the snow. They followed them up some little way tosee what they had been feeding on during the night. 

"Why if this isn't the very place where we killed the deer and there isour venison still hanging up in the tree, which the brutes couldn't getat, and that made them howl so, " cried out Tony, who was a little beforethe rest. They found then that after all their wanderings in theafternoon they had come back to the _very_ spot they had left atmid-day. They hoped that now, if they made a fresh start, that theymight reach the blaze. They more carefully noted the moss on the trees. The sun too shone out brightly. They were stepping out merrily, andthey thought that they must be near the blaze, when before them was seena large cedar swamp. The tree in Canada called the cedar is low, twisted, and knotted, with straggling roots growing in moist ground. Itmakes a thicket which the wind cannot pass through. Indians often cut away into a cedar swamp in winter to build their wigwams in it. Thetravellers knew that they could not pass through the swamp, which wasall moist, so they had to find their way round it. They fancied thatthey could not fail to reach the blaze. At last they got very hungryand had to stop and light a fire and breakfast. They knew that theywere fortunate in having plenty of food, for they had heard of peoplewandering about in the woods for days together without anything to eat. Noon came round again. No blaze yet seen. 

"When shall we find our way out of this, Rob?" asked Tony. 

"May be in a day or two, may be in a week, " answered Rob. 

Tony and Tommy looked very black at this. They were getting tiredwalking about all day in the snow, with heavy loads on their backs. Tommy began to cry. Just then a shot was heard. They ran on in thedirection from which the sound came, and Rob fired his gun in return. In a few minutes they met a tall, thin, oldish man, with a gun in hishand and a bag at his back. 

"Why, youngsters, where have you come from?" he asked. 

Rob told him. 

"Not much out, youngsters; why you are scarcely more than two hundredyards from the blaze, and haven't been for some time past, " the old manreplied. "Come, I'll show you. "

The old hunter stalked away at a great rate, and they followed as fastas they could. 

"That's your way, " he said; pointing to the blazes on the trees. "Pushon as fast as you can, or the snow may be down on you, and you'll not beable to get on without snow-shoes. It wouldn't be pleasant to you to besnowed up here in the woods. "

"No, indeed, master, " said Rob; "especially if we were to have suchvisitors as came to us last night. "

The old hunter laughed when Rob told him of the wolves. 

"They won't hurt anybody who shows a bold front, for they are greatcowards, " said the old man. "But woe betide the boy who is caught outalone at night, if any of the savage beasts fall in with him. Still, though I've hunted through these parts more than thirty years, I'veheard of very few people who ever got any harm from them. "

Rob thanked the old man, who said that his name was Danby Marks. 

They all walked on together for some time, chatting pleasantly. Thesnow began to fall very thickly again. Rob thought that old Marks wasgoing to leave them. 

"I see that you are young travellers, and I may help you a bit may be, "said the old man; "your way shall be mine. "

He told them much about the birds and beasts and fish of those parts. "The lakes and rivers are full of fish; the salmon are very fine. Thenthere are sturgeon, and a fish called maskinonge, not known in England;and pike, and pickrel, and white-fish, and trout, and herrings, verylike those in salt water; and bass, and sun-fish, and perch, and manyothers. Anybody may catch them who can. Many are killed with a spear, and others caught with nets of all sorts. Indians catch the white-fishwith a scoop-net, like a landing-net, with a long handle. They stand upin their canoes, amid the rapids, and as they see the fish in some morequiet hollow, they, quick as lightning, slip in their nets and scoop himup. They carry torches in their canoes at night, and when the fish swimnear, drawn by the light, they dart down their barbed spears and seldomfail to spike. 

"This is a rich country, indeed, " continued old Marks. "Just think ofthe numbers of deer, the moose, with a heavy head, bigger than thelargest horse; and the caribou, rather smaller, but more fleet; and thenthere's the elk, and other smaller deer. Many and many's the night I'vecamped out on the snow, with my feet to a blazing fire, wrapped up in abuffalo robe, going after them critters. Then we've black bears, butthey don't often attack men, though they are mortal fond of honey, andsheep, or pigs, or poultry, when they can catch them. The wolverine, isthe most savage animal we've got, and as cunning as a fox. They canclimb trees, and spring down on their prey. I've known a man try tocatch one, and very nearly got caught himself. The racoon is a curiouscritter, with the body of a fox, the head of a dog, and a round, bushytail. The hind legs are longer than the fore, and both are armed withsharp claws. They live in trees, and leap nimbly from branch to branch. We shoot them sitting on branches, or popping their heads out of someold hollow stump. Then there's the lynx, and the otter, beaver, musk-rat, ground-hog, woodchuck, flying squirrel, skunk, marten, mink, fisher, hedgehog, and many others. Most of them are eatable, and theskins of all of them sell for a good deal of money. We have no lack ofbirds either: wild turkeys, and geese, and ducks, and pigeons, which flyin flocks so thick as to darken the air. A man with a good gun, and whoknows how to set traps, need never starve in this country. Not but whatI say a settler's life is the best for most people. I took to the woodswhen I was young, and now I am old I have no wife or children to carefor me, and that's not the fate I would wish for any of you youngpeople. " The old man sighed deeply as he finished speaking. Still Robwas so interested with the accounts of the old trapper's adventures, that he begged he would let him go with him some time into the woods tohunt. Old Marks readily promised to take Rob with him. They travelledon cheerily, talking on these subjects, though the snow fell so thicklythat at last it became heavy work to walk through it. They had to campout three nights, so little way did they make. Still they did not mindthat, as they had plenty to eat, and old Marks told them no end ofamusing stories. 

At last they reached the town where Susan was at service. She wasexpecting them, and all ready to start. When, however, her mistress, Mrs Mason, heard that she intended walking, she would not let her go. She said that it was not fit for a young girl who was delicate, and thatshe must wait till she could get a lift in a sleigh going that way. Robsaid that he would not wait, as he ought to be back again to help hisfather. Still the good lady would not give in. 

STORY THREE, CHAPTER 5. 

At last they reached the town where Susan was at service. She wasexpecting them, and all ready to start. When, however, her mistress, Mrs Mason, heard that she intended walking, she would not let her go. She said that it was not fit for a young girl who was delicate, and thatshe must wait till she could get a lift in a sleigh going that way. Robsaid that he would not wait, as he ought to be back again to help hisfather. Still the good lady would not give in. 

Two days passed, and the snow came down again thicker than ever. Thenit cleared up. The sky was bright, the wind keen, and there seemedevery chance of the frost lasting for some days. It was likely, however, that there would be one or two thaws before the regular frostof winter set in. 

At last Rob thought that he would hire a sleigh to carry his sister. Just then, who should he meet in the street but his neighbour, MrLandon. Rob told him of his difficulty. 

"Just the very thing, " said Mr Landon. "I have bought two sleighs, onewhich I want to send home at once, as it is for the use of my wife anddaughters. You shall take Susan in it, if your brother will wait two orthree days longer, and drive the luggage-sleigh with my winter stores. By starting early you will be able to get through half the distance toRoland's shanty by night-fall. Take fodder for the horse, and if youcover in the sleigh at night, and keep up a blazing fire, Susan won't bethe worse for it. "

Rob agreed to the proposal. Tony and Tommy were in great glee at thethoughts of driving a sleigh by themselves. Rob had told Mr Landonthat Tony was fully up to the work. As there was no time to be lost, Rob set off the next morning by daybreak, with Susan well wrapped up inbuffalo robes. 

Mr Landon had to do some business in a distant town, and would not beback for two weeks or so. It seemed certain that the fine weather wouldlast when Rob set out. At last Tony's turn came. His sleigh was only alarge box, on runners. Before day broke, he and Tommy were on foot, ready to start. Mr Landon cautioned them not to delay on the road. "No fear, sir, " said Tony. 

"May be we'll catch up Rob, if he isn't very smart, " observed Tommy. 

Away they drove. There was nothing unusual in giving a sleigh in chargeof two such boys as Tony and Tommy. Boys in the colonies are constantlyemployed in work which men only would undertake in the old country. Tony had often driven sleighs long distances for his former master, sohe had no fear about the matter. The horse was a rough animal, well upto bush travelling. If he could not go round a log, he thought nothingof making a leap over it. Away they trotted, the sleigh-bells soundingmerrily in the frosty air. Rob's sleigh and several others had passed, so that the snow was beaten pretty hard, while the track was wellmarked. Tony and Tommy amused themselves by whistling and singing andtelling stories, laughing heartily at what each other said. The countrylooked very different to what it had done ten days before. Everythingwas white, the boughs hung down with the weight of snow, and where insome places it had melted and frozen again, the trees looked as if theywere covered with diamonds and rubies and other precious stones. Thehorse went well, and they got on famously all day. Before it was darkthey reached the spot where Rob and Susan had camped. 

The boys soon had a fire blazing in front of the hut Rob had built forSusan. They hobbled the horse, and gave him some hay and oats, and thenthey began to cook their own provisions. It would have been hard tofind a couple of more merry and happy fellows; not that they had forgotthe wolves, but they did not fear being attacked as long as they kept upa good fire. This time, however, the one on the watch took care not tofall asleep, and to keep the fire burning brightly. Now and then howlswere heard from far-off in the depths of the forest, which reminded themof the visitors they might expect if they let the fire out. 

Daylight came again; they and the horse breakfasted; and they were oncemore gliding over the smooth snow, the sleigh-bells sounding merrily inthe fresh morning air. As the sun rose, the air became warmer and thesnow softer, which prevented them from getting on so well as they hoped. As the sun went round, and the trees for a time were cast into shade, long icicles formed on the boughs, which, as a stray beam found its waythrough the wood, shone like masses of precious stones. 

The snow had now lasted for some days, and at that early time of theseason a thaw might any hour begin. This made the two lads eager topush on; but "too much haste is bad speed, " and they almost knocked uptheir horse before half the day's journey was over. The evening wasdrawing on, and they were still a long way from Roland's shanty. Tonywas driving, and making their tired horse go on as fast as he could, when Tommy, looking over his shoulder, saw a huge wolf following closebehind them. "Drive on fast, " cried Tommy, pointing at the wolf, "Idon't like the looks of that chap. "

"He's not a beauty, but he won't do us any harm as long as he's alone, "said Tony, who was a brave little fellow. 

"But he isn't alone, " cried Tommy, "I see three or four other brutesskulking there among the trees--Push on! push on!"

It was high time, indeed, to push on, for the big wolf was drawingnearer and nearer, and his followers seemed only to be waiting hissignal to begin the attack. As the horse, knowing his own danger, galloped on faster, the wolves set up a hideous howl, fearful that theirprey would escape them. Tommy seized the whip from Tony and began tolash away at them. 

"If I had Rob's gun I'd pay off those brutes, " cried Tony, "slash awayTommy! keep them off! it won't be pleasant if they catch hold of us. "

On went the horse; he did not think of being tired now. It was hardwork to guide him between the stumps and fallen trees. Tommy lashed andlashed away, and shouted at the top of his voice. An overturn wouldhave caused their death, as the wolves would have set on them beforethey had time to get upon their feet. They were coming to a bad bit ofthe road where they would have to drive down some steep and ruggedplaces to avoid fallen logs. The wolves seemed to think that this wouldbe their time, for all the pack made a dash at the sleigh. Tommy lashedwith his whip with all his might. One big beast was on the point ofspringing into the sleigh, and the boys, with reason, gave up all forlost. Still, like brave fellows, they strove to the last. "Hit himwith the butt end, " cried Tony. 

Tommy struck the brute with all his might between the eyes. The wolffell back, but others were coming on. A moment afterwards two moresprang up at the sleigh. One of them Tommy treated as he had done thefirst, but the other was just seizing him by the leg, and a third wasflying at Tony, who, having to guide the horse, could not defendhimself, when a bullet whistled by and knocked over one of the animals. The others, frightened by the report, stopped short, and Tommy had timeto hit the wolf just going to lay hold of Tony. 

"Well done, youngster, well done, " cried a man who just then stepped outof the bush. "If I hadn't come just in the nick of time it would havebeen the worse for you, though. "

The boys saw that the man was their friend Danby Marks. Tony had hardwork to stop the frightened horse, and could not have done it if the oldman had not caught the reins and soothed the animal. A second shot fromhis rifle, by which another wolf was killed, sent the whole cowardlypack howling back into the forest. "You must let me go as your guardfor the rest of the way, " said the old hunter, as he stepped into thesleigh and bade Tony drive on, "Don't suppose, though, I came here bychance, " he added; "nothing ever does happen by chance, and I am hereto-day because I met Rob, and as his mind misgave him, he begged that Iwould come and look after you. "

Tony and his friend thanked the old man heartily for the help he hadgiven them. "Yes, indeed, Mr Marks: we should have been made intomince-meat by this time if it hadn't been for you, " said Tony. 

It was, indeed, a good thing for the lads that the old trapper foundthem when he did, even if there had been no wolves; for the night cameon very dark, and without him they could not have found their way toRoland's shanty. In the night the wind changed, the rain came down intorrents, and the remainder of the road along the banks of the river andthe shore of the lake was impassable. They had, therefore, to followMr Landon's orders, to leave the sleigh under Roland's care, and to gohome in the canoe. 

STORY THREE, CHAPTER 6. 

Old Marks offered, the next morning, to go with them, telling them thatthe current in the river was so strong that they would not stem it bythemselves. They saw that he spoke the truth, and were very glad tohave his help. The rain ceasing, they started soon after breakfast withas much of Mr Landon's goods as the canoe would carry. 

Tony thought Rob a very good canoe-man, but he found the old trapper afar better; and it was curious to see the way in which he managed thecanoe, even among rapids, into which few persons would have ventured. His strength, too, was very great--for he dragged the canoe, heavilyladen as it was, all the way along the portage over the snow; for thefrost came on again that evening, and in exposed places hardened theground. They found it much colder camping out by the lake than they haddone in the woods. 

As soon as it was dark, the old trapper lighted a torch, and with aspear went out in the canoe. The fish came up to the light as moths doto a candle, and were seen by the old sportsman's sharp eye; and in thecourse of a few minutes he had killed more fish than he and his twoyoung companions could eat for their supper and breakfast. With thecanoe to keep off the wind, and a blazing fire, they did not complain ofthe cold. The paddle across the lake, however, exposed to the bitingwind, was the coldest part of the journey. 

They had made some way along the lake, when Tommy, who had nothing to dobut to look about him, said that he saw some one walking about on anisland, and making signals. 

"Some Indian just warming himself this cold day, " said Tony laughing. 

"May be, it's no business of ours, " said Tommy. 

"Boys, if a fellow-creature is in distress, it's our business to go andsee if we can help him, " observed old Marks gravely, and turned the headof the canoe towards the island. "If he's not in distress it is only alittle of our time lost, and better lose a great deal than leave a humanbeing to perish, whatever the colour of his skin. "

Tony and Tommy felt rebuked for their carelessness. On getting near theisland, who should they see but Pat Honan, one of the men who had beenemployed chopping for Michael Hale. He now looked very blue. He couldnot speak, and could scarcely move his hands. 

"He'd have been frozen to death in a few more minutes, " said Marks. "Light a fire, lads, quick, and we'll warm him up. "

He threw one of the buffalo robes over the man, and poured a few dropsof whiskey down his throat, while the boys made up a blazing fire. Marks turned poor Pat round and round before it, rubbing and beatinghim. As soon as Pat could speak, he cried out, "Arrah, it was thewhiskey, the whiskey did it all; ahone, ahone! if it wasn't for that, Pater Disney might have been alive and well. "

"What about Peter Disney?" asked Marks. 

"Oh, ahone, ahone! he lies out there stark and cold, " answered Pat, pointing to the other end of the island. 

As soon as Pat got well enough to be left for a little while, with Tommyto look after him and keep up the fire, Marks and Tony paddled round towhere he pointed. There they found a boat knocking against some rocks, and, on landing, not far off was the body of Peter Disney, frozen stiff, though covered up with a blanket. He was sitting upright with his mouthopen. A dreadful picture. Nothing could be done for him, so they againcovered him up, and towed the boat out from among the rocks. 

"I should like to write over his head, `Drink did it, '" said the oldman: "if I was more of a scholar I would. "

As the canoe would not hold another passenger, they all got into the bigboat and towed her. Marks, Pat, and Tommy took the oars while Tonysteered. 

"Well, Pat, how did it happen?" asked Marks. 

"Why, do you see, Pater and I was going to do some work for a newsettler at the farther end of the lake, and so we hired a boat to make ashort cut--a long cut it'll be for Pater, seeing he'll never get there;och, ahone, ahone! Says Pater, `We'll not do without provisions, Pat, and so I'll be after getting _Home_, and jist a drop of whiskey to washthem down. ' I axes him if he'd got them all right. `All right, ' sayshe, as we shoved off. All right it wasn't though, for when I came toaxe for some bread and cheese and a slice of pork, he hadn't got any. Indeed, faith, he'd forgotten all else but a big bottle of the cratur. `It's a bad bargain, ' says I; but I thought we'd make the best of it. We rowed, and we took a pull at the bottle, and we rowed again, and thenanother pull; but Pater took two pulls for my one--worse luck for him, --and so we went on till somehow or other we both fell asleep. When wewoke up, there we were in the middle of a rice-bed. How to get out wasa hard job, when Pater, in trying to shove with the oar, fell overboard. I caught him by one leg just as he was going to be drownded entirely, but he was little better than a mass of ice in a few minutes, in spiteof the whiskey inside of him. I at last got him on shore, and coveredhim up with a blanket, but before long he was as stiff as an icicle, andthough I shouted as loud as I could, and bate him with a big stick, Icouldn't make him hear or feel. Ahone, ahone! och the whiskey! I'drather that never a drop should pass my lips again, than to die as PaterDisney. "

Several families of Irish had lately arrived at the settlement, to someof whom Peter Disney was related. 

As soon as Pat Honan drew near the shore, where many of them werestanding watching the boat, he shouted out that Peter was dead. Forthwith they set up a fearful howl, in which others as they came upjoined them, till the whole party were howling away in concert, led byPat, who cried out, "Ah, it was drink--the cratur, --'twas drink, drinkthat did it. "

Rob and Susan had arrived safely with the sleigh. As soon as the groundhardened, Rob set off in the canoe, and brought the luggage-sleigh homeby the snow road formed through the woods, along the borders of thelake. 

STORY THREE, CHAPTER 7. 

Though most out-of-door work comes to a standstill in winter, choppingcan still be carried on, fallen trees cut up and fresh trees cut down. One of the customs of the country is to form a bee when any particularpiece of work has to be done in a hurry. Such as a log hut or a barnraised, or some ground cleared. 

The bees are the neighbours who come from far and near; they receive nowages, but are fed well, and whiskey is served out too well while theyare at work. The more industrious among the settlers employed the timein the house in making household furniture, mending their tools, and inmany other ways--not forgetting reading the Bible to their families. 

The winter was already some way advanced when most of the inhabitants ofThornhill were invited to chop trees and to put up a log hut, by agentleman, a Mr Sudbury, who had bought land about three miles off andwished to get in some crops as soon as the snow was off the ground. 

Michael Hale, and Rob, and John Kemp, and Mr Landon, and many otherswent. They expected to clear half an acre of ground, and to get thewalls and roof of the log hut up in one day. Most of the settlers inThornhill were well, in spite of the cold, except Mrs Kemp. She hadfor some time been ailing, and expected soon to give birth to anotherchild, Mrs Hale had gone in to have a chat with her, and to help her insome household matters, when Tommy came running in breathless. 

"What's the matter, Tommy; eh boy?" asked Mrs Hale. 

"A big tree has come down at Mr Sudbury's clearing, and killed, orpretty nigh killed, some one. Nobody knows who it is, but I hope it'snot father, nor Mr Hale either. "

These words frightened both the wives, who wanted to set off at once. 

"No, no, I'll go, " said Mrs Hale. "You stay quiet at home, Mrs Kemp. It's the only fit place for you. "

Just then, one of the Miss Landon's came in to see Mrs Kemp. She said, if Tony, who had come up with his mother, would go with her, she wouldset off at once, with such things as were likely to be of use to thesufferer, whoever he might be. 

"You, Mrs Hale, stay and take care of Mrs Kemp, " she said. 

This Mrs Hale promised to do, for Mrs Kemp was looking very ill. 

Mary Landon was a young girl of much sense. She hurried home, andcollected all the articles she might require. 

Tony said that he knew a short cut, but as it was not beaten down itcould not be passed except on snow-shoes. His own he had brought withhim. Mary had lately learned to walk in them, and had a a pair ready. They were wooden frames in shape something like an egg flattened out, only sharp at both ends. The centre part was net-work of leatherthongs, like a very coarse sieve. They are fastened to the feet bythongs of leather. From covering so much space, they do not sink intothe snow. On their feet, people in winter wear in the country softleather socks, called mocassins, with one or two pairs of thick worstedsocks inside. Mary's were made by an Indian woman, a squaw, as thenatives call their wives and daughters. They were worked prettily withcoloured porcupine-quills and beads. 

Quickly putting on her snow-shoes, Mary set off with Tony. Both hadlong sticks in their hands. They had got about half way, when Tonylooked up, and said, "I hope, Miss Landon, that you are not afraid ofbears. "

"Why?" she asked. 

"Because I see the fresh marks of one on the snow, " he answered. "Wemay meet the gentleman; if we do, we must attack him with our sticks, and shout, and he will go off; but if we attempt to run, he'll gaincourage and follow. "

Mary said that she would follow Tony's advice; but as she walked on, shelooked anxiously on one side and on the other, expecting to see the bearappear. As to running away in snow-shoes, that she could not, and shewas afraid that, in attacking the bear, she might topple over, and hemight set on her. 

"No fear, Miss Mary, " said Tony, as he saw her looking about; "if hedoes come, I'll give him a taste of the tip of my stick, and he'll soonturn his tail to us; he is not far off, I see by his marks; he'll showhimself presently. Now don't run, Miss Mary, but shout out like a man, as if you wasn't afraid. "

Scarcely had Tony given this advice, than a brown, shaggy-coated bearwas seen moving along the snow between the trees. He soon caught sightof the travellers, and sat up, watching them as they passed. 

"I told you he wouldn't hurt us, " said Tony; "we used to see plenty ofthem where we were last. " They had not, however, gone far, when Tony, looking over his shoulder, cried out, "Here he comes though; but don'tfear, there's a rise a little farther on, and from the top of it we cansee Mr Sudbury's clearing. " Still the bear followed, and got closerand closer. Tony kept facing him every now and then. At last he criedout, "Now's our turn, Miss Mary, turn round and shout as you nevershouted before. " Mary did as she was advised, and Tony at the same timesetting up a loud shriek and hallo, and shaking his stick, the bear wasso astonished that he turned round and waddled off. Once or twice helooked back, but Tony's shout made him hasten away faster than before. Thus it will be seen, that though there are bears in Canada, they arenot much to be dreaded. 

In a short time Mary and her companion arrived at the clearing. Sheinquired anxiously who was the sufferer, for she knew that it might beher own father as likely as any one else. 

"It is John Kemp, he is there in the hut, " was the answer. 

"Bless you, Miss Mary, " said Michael Hale, when he saw her come toassist his friend; "but I'm afraid that help comes too late. The bestsurgeon in the land couldn't cure him. "

Poor John Kemp lay in a corner of the unfinished hut on a bed of sprucefir tops, a fire lighted near to give him some warmth. He was moaningand complaining of the cold. He had been cut by his axe as the treefell, which at the same time crushed one of his legs and hurt his side. Mary bound up the wound more carefully than it had been done, andfomented his side; but she saw that she could do no more, and advisedhis being carried home at once. No surgeon was to be found nearer thanforty miles. One had been sent for, but it was very doubtful if hecould come. A litter of boughs was at once formed, and poor John, wrapped up in buffalo robes, was at once placed on it, and Michael andRob Hale, and other members of the bee, undertook to carry him home. Hethanked his friends, and Mary in particular, but told them that he wassure he should never get there. He did, however; but those who carriedhim saw, as they drew near his cottage, that something was wrong. Michael sent Tony on to ask. Tony came back shaking his head: some onehad told Mrs Kemp, in a hurry, that her husband was killed. The shockwas too great for one in her weak state. Just before her husband wasbrought home, she had died, giving birth to a tenth child, "God's willbe done, " whispered John Kemp, when he heard of his wife's death, "Hewill take care of our poor orphan children. "

Before the night was over John himself had rejoined his wife in anotherworld. His prayer was heard, and his faith in God's love rewarded. Ameeting of all the settlers was called. Mr Landon proposed raising asubscription for the orphans. "That is not wanted, " said Michael Hale, "I will take charge of two of them, and more, if the rest do not findhomes--Fanny and Tommy shall become my children. "

"And I will take another girl then, " said Mr Landon; "and the poorinfant, my daughter will nurse it. "

"I will take a boy, " said Mr Sudbury. 

Thus the children were quickly disposed of among some of the kindest andbest of the people in the settlement. The orphans became really andtruly their children, and were treated in no respects differently. There was nothing uncommon in this. The same thing is done in all partsof the province, and those who thus protect the orphans seldom fail toreceive a blessing on their homes. Fanny and Tommy soon learned to lookon Mr and Mrs Hale as their parents, and to render them the sameobedience and affection that they would have done had they really beenso. 

STORY THREE, CHAPTER 8. 

No one finds settling in a new country all smooth work; and if a mancannot look ahead and think of what his labour is sure to produce, hewill often be very much down-hearted. Some people give up when, if theyhad held on, they would have succeeded at last. Michael Hale was notone of the give-in sort. The winter in Canada lasts a long time, butmost people who have plenty to do like it very much. Michael Hale'spublic room was a good large one, and as soon as the day's work wasover, and supper eaten, he set everybody to doing something or other. The girls had always plenty to do to spin and knit and sew. The boys, too, learned to knit, so that they could knit their own stockings. There was a hand-loom weaver among the settlers, and from him Davidlearned to weave what his sisters spun. From this time, except a littlecalico, there was very little in the way of clothing the family had tobuy. Tony learned cobbling, and, in time, to make shoes. Rob was afirst-rate carpenter. The younger boys helped their brothers. Thosewere pleasant evenings, as they sat round the blazing fire which madeamends for the poor light of the tallow lamps. 

One evening Rob and David had to go out to look after one of the cowswhich was sick. They did not much like leaving the cozy fireside forthe freezing night air. "It must be done though, " said Rob; "comealong, David. " No sooner did they open the door than they heard astrange squeaking from the pig-sty, which, they had wisely built at somelittle distance from the house. It was a bitter night. They stopped aninstant to listen, and in that instant their hair and eyebrows andeyelashes were frosted over. The squeaking went on. "Some creaturemust be among the pigs, " cried Rob. "Run back for the gun, David, I'llgo and see. "

While David went in to get the gun, Rob, with a thick stick and alantern in his hand, hurried down to the pig-sty. One fine porker laybleeding on the ground, and another was not to be seen. A faint squeakfrom the forest on one side showed where he was gone. Rob calling onDavid to follow, ran on in the hopes of catching the thief. He hadn'tgot far when the light of the lantern fell on the back of ashaggy-haired beast, which he at once knew to be that of a bear. In itsfore-paws it carried the missing porker, which still sent forth apiteous cry for help. Rob soon overtook the bear and gave him a nogentle tap on the back of his head. Bruin, not liking this, dropped thepig and turned round to face Rob, while piggie, having still the use ofhis legs, ran off towards his sty. The bear seemed resolved to vent hisrage on Rob, who stood ready to receive him with his thick stick, flourishing it before his face. With a loud growl the angry bear sprangon Rob. "Fire! fire!" cried Rob, "he is biting my shoulder. "

David was afraid of hitting his brother, he did not therefore fire tillhe got close up to them, and then, putting the gun to the bear's head, he pulled the trigger. Over rolled the creature, and Rob was set free. He was much hurt, but his thick coat had saved him from a worse wound. The snow was hard, so that they were able to drag the carcase over it tothe house. One of the pigs was so much hurt that Rob was obliged tokill it, while the other, which had been carried off, escaped withoutmuch damage. After doctoring the cow they appeared at home with theirprize. It made more than amends for the loss of the pig; for in Canada, in winter, it matters not how much meat is in store, as once frozen itwill keep till the warm weather returns. Often people have a dozenturkeys and twice as many fowls, and small animals, and fish hanging upin their larders, at once. In the markets, fish, flesh, and fowl arealso sold in a frozen state. The bear was quickly skinned and cut up, but he was frozen almost hard before the work was finished. 

The next day Rob's shoulder hurt him so much that he was obliged to stayat home. Susan and his mother doctored it as best they could, but hedid not get better. At last they went up to Mr Landon's house, to askwhat they ought to do. Though it was one of the coldest days, Mrs andMiss Landon hurried down to the hut. They soon saw that, without greatcare, the matter might become serious. Having left a lotion and somemedicine, with directions how to treat Rob, they were on their way, homewhen they saw a thick smoke curling up into the sky above where theirhouse stood. Mary hurried on till she could see the house itself. Firewas coming out of the roof. 

"Oh, mother, do you go back to the Hales and ask for help, and I willrun on and see what can be done at once, " she exclaimed. 

As soon as Mrs Landon reached the Hales, Tommy ran to call Michael andhis two boys, and Pat Honan, who was working for them. Mr Landon andhis only son, George, was away. Mary found Biddy McCosh, theservant-girl, wringing her hands and running about not knowing what todo, while her youngest sister was asleep, and the next was crying, seeing that something was the matter but not knowing what it was, Mary'sfirst thought was to place her little sisters in safety, the next washow to put out the fire and save the furniture. The children shecarried, with some bedding, to an outhouse, and wrapped them up warmly. While doing this, she sent Biddy in search of a ladder. By it shebravely mounted to the roof. Biddy had made up too large a fire in thestove and heated the flue. This had set fire to the wooden roof. Nowater was to be had; every drop around was frozen. 

"Biddy, a shovel!" cried Mary. With it she shovelled the snow over theroof, but it did little even in checking the flames. While she was soemployed, her mother and Mrs Hale and Susan arrived. Rob followed--nothing would stop him. Susan climbed, up to the roof, with her, andthe two girls worked bravely together. Rob said that he must go up andhelp them, but his mother held him back. 

"It will be his death if he goes up there, " said Mrs Landon. "If youmust work, Rob, help us to get out the furniture. "

While they were thus employed, Michael Hale and his two sons and Honanand other neighbours arrived. The two girls came down from their postof danger and the men took their places, but they could not with thesnow alone stop the flames. There seemed every chance of Mr Landon'shouse being burnt down. 

"I've seen salt melt snow. If there is in the house a cask of meat inbrine that may help us, " exclaimed Rob. 

There was one. It was brought out, the head knocked in, and the brinepoured out in small quantities on the snow. Wherever the brine droppedthe snow melted, and the fire was put out. It was some time, however, before all danger was passed. A large part of the roof was damaged andthe house made unfit to be inhabited. 

"Oh, Mrs Landon, ma'am, I hope that you will honour us by coming downand taking up your abode with us till the roof is on again, " said MrsHale in a kind voice. "Susan will take care of Miss Mary and the littleones, and Mr Landon and your son George will be sure to find lodgingswith other friends till the house is set to rights again. "

Mr Landon had suffered so many ups and downs in life that when hearrived he was not very much put out at the injury done to his house. He was only thankful that his wife and children had escaped injury. 

A bee was formed, and in a couple of days the roof was replaced, and inless than a week the house again habitable. 

STORY THREE, CHAPTER 9. 

The winter was drawing to an end. It had not appeared very long, afterall--everybody had been so busy. Michael and his sons were now at workcutting-out troughs for sugar making. In Canada the maple yields a sapwhich, when boiled, turns into sugar. A number of maple-trees togetheris called a sugar-bush. The troughs are made of pine, black ash, orbutter-nut, and each holds three to four gallons of sap. 

The snow was still on the ground, when early in March, Michael and hissons, and Susan and Fanny and Tommy set off with their sugar kettles, pails, ladles, big store troughs, small troughs, and moulds, to thesugar-bush two miles from the house. They first built huts for thekettles and for themselves; fixed the store trough and cut a supply offuel for the fires. They next tapped the maple-trees on the south side, with an auger of an inch and a half. Into this hole a hollow spile wasdriven. Under each spile a trough was placed. As soon as the sun grewwarm the sap began to flow and drop into the troughs. The girls andboys had soon work enough to empty the troughs into a large cask on thesleigh. This, when full, was carried to the boiling-sheds and emptiedinto the store trough. From this the kettles are filled and keptboiling night and day, till the sap becomes a thin molasses. It is thenpoured into pails or casks, and made clear with eggs or milk stirredwell into it. The molasses are now poured again into the boilers over aslow fire, when the dirt rises to the top, and is skimmed off. To knowwhen it has boiled enough, a small quantity is dropped on the snow. Ifit hardens when cool it has been boiled enough. It is then poured intothe moulds, when it quickly hardens and is ready for use. Very goodvinegar can be made by boiling three pails of sap into one, and thenadding some yeast, still better is made from the sap of the birch; beeris made both from maple and birch sap, and a flavour given by addingessence of spruce or ginger. Boiling the sap and molasses requiresconstant attention, as there is a danger of their boiling over. 

While Michael and Rob attended to the boiling, David and Tommy drove thesleigh, and the rest took care of the troughs. They had a large numberof troughs, and some were a long way from the boiling-sheds. 

Michael and his son had filled the kettles, which they did not expectwould boil for some little time, when Tommy came running up to say thatthe sleigh had stuck fast between two stumps, and that he and Davidcould not clear it, while one of the oxen had fallen down and hurtitself against a log. On bearing this, Michael and Rob, thinking thatthere would be plenty of time to help David, and to get back before thesugar boiled, ran to assist him. They found the sleigh firmly fixed, and it took them longer to clear it than they had expected it would. They had just got it clear, when a loud bellow reached their ears fromthe direction of the boiling-sheds. Leaving David and Tommy to managethe oxen, Michael and Rob ran back to their charge. They arrived intime to see one of their cows, with her muzzle well covered withmolasses, galloping off through the bush, followed by her companions, while the kettle lay upset, the contents streaming out on the fire, andburning away, and threatening to set all the sheds in a blaze. The cowshad found their way into the bush, and being fond of sugar, one of themhad put her muzzle into the boiling liquid, little expecting to have sowarm a greeting. 

"I hope it will teach her not to steal sugar for the future, " observedMichael, as he and his son righted the kettle. They had to pull downsome of the shed before they could put the fire out; but such triflingevents were too common in the bush to disturb their tempers, and theywere thankful that matters were no worse. 

Just before this, a neighbour's cow had got into his sugar-bush anddrank so much cold molasses that she burst and died. Michael determinedanother year to enclose his sugar-bush to prevent any such accidents. 

In two weeks enough sugar was made to last the family all the year, tomake all sorts of preserves, besides a good supply of beer and vinegar. With the vinegar they could pickle onions, and all sorts of vegetables, for winter use. Vegetables are also preserved during the winter incellars, dug generally under the fire-place, in a log hut. A trap-doorleads to the cellar. Here potatoes, carrots, turnips, and other rootsare stored, and kept free from frost. 

The snow at length melted, and spring came on as it were in a day. Fromsunrise to sunset every man and boy was now hard at work, chopping, burning, and clearing the ground to put in the spring crops. Not anhour was to be lost, for the sun shone bright and warm, the grass sprangup, the leaves came out, and flowers burst forth, and it seemed as ifthe summer had begun as soon as the winter had ended. The summer washot, and soon ripened the crops, and the harvest was good and plentiful. 

STORY THREE, CHAPTER 10. 

Four years had passed away, and Michael Hale and his family had began toreap the fruits of their industry. They had forty acres of landcleared, enough to bear crops. Two acres were planted with apple-trees, which already yielded a large supply of fruit. The apples were packedin casks, and were then fit to be sent off to distant markets. Somewere peeled, cut in slices, dried in the sun, and hung up for homewinter use. 

They had several cows and oxen, and a flock of sheep, and pigs, andpoultry. As they frequently killed oxen, and sheep, and pigs, for theirown use, they were able to form a store of fat for making candles andsoap at home. Indeed, Michael was rapidly becoming a substantialfarmer. He was not, however, without his sorrows and trials. 

Susan had never completely recovered, and the year after he settled atThornhill she had died of consumption. Fanny Kemp watched over andattended her as a sister to the last, and now so completely filled herplace, that no one would have thought that she was not a daughter. 

Rob, indeed, hoped to make her one ere long. He had loved her for manyyears; but, like a good son, felt that he ought not to marry and set upfor himself till he had helped his father to settle comfortably. He nowopened the matter to his father. "There's one thing, however, I want todo first, that is to see you and mother in a well-plastered house, " hesaid, after he had got Michael's consent to his marriage. "We'll getthat put up during the summer, and this old log-house will do for Fannyand me for another year or two. There's only one thing I ask. Don'ttell mother what we are about. It will be a pleasant surprise to her. She was saying, only the other day, that she wished that she had a housewith another floor. "

When Mr Landon heard that Rob was going to marry Fanny Kemp, he calledhim aside one day, and said, "If your father will give you twenty acresof his land, I will give you another twenty acres alongside it, andwill, besides, stand the expense of a bee, and have a house put up foryou in no time. Your father was kind to me when I was burnt out of myhouse, and has given me much good advice, by which I have profited. Hisexample made me work in a way I do not think I should have otherwisedone. "

Rob thanked Mr Landon very much, but told him of his wish first to helphis father build and settle in a comfortable plastered house. 

"You set a good example, Rob; and I hope other young men will follow it. A dutiful son will make a good husband, and little Fanny deserves one. "

The new house was to be in a very different style from the old one. Thefirst thing was to burn the lime. It was found on the top of the hill, and brought down in carts to a piece of ground, the trees on which hadjust been cut down. These were now piled up in a large heap, and thelimestone placed above. By the time the log heap was burned, the limewas made, but it took some time to clear it from the ashes. A wood offine elm-trees grew near. A number of them were felled to form thewalls. In many respects, a well-built log-house, when well-plastered, is better than one of brick or stone in that climate. At the end of thelake a saw-mill had lately been established. Rob, David, and Tommy setout in the canoe to bring home a supply of planks from the mill. Robtook his gun, in the hopes of getting a shot at wild-fowl. On theirway, when passing an island, a deer, which seemed to have taken refugethere, started out, and plunging into the water, swam rapidly across thelake. 

Bob fired, and hit the deer, which made directly for the shore. Just asit neared it, some Indians who had been fishing in a canoe overtook it;and weak from loss of blood, it was killed by a few blows from theirpaddles. The Indians seemed to think it their prize. 

"Come shore--you have part, " said their chief, in broken English, Robthought this was better than the risk of a quarrel. Near the spot wasan encampment of Indians. Those in the canoe let him know that theywould consult their friends as to how much of the deer he ought to have. 

Bob and his companions climbed up the hill, and watched the Indians, whostood grouped below. They were dark-skinned men, of a dull copper hue. They were in their full war dresses. Their cheeks were mostly paintedred, but some had put on other colours. In their heads they worefeathers and bead ornaments. Their coats were of untanned leather, ornamented with beads, as were their leggings and boots, or mocassins. Some, however, were dressed more comfortably, in coats cut out ofblankets, making the dark borders come in as ornaments. Their tents, orwigwams, were in the shape of a sugar-loaf. They were formed of longpoles, stuck in the ground, about six inches apart; the round beingabout ten feet across, and the poles fastened together at the top. Thiswas thickly covered with large pieces of birch-bark. Mats were spreadon the ground, except in the middle, where a place was left for a fire. On one side a hole was left to serve as a door, with a blanket hung upona line across it. This is the Indian's house throughout the year, andin winter, when put up in a sheltered spot, can, with the help of a fireinside; be kept quite warm. Bob and David went inside one of them. Thewomen, who were dressed in blanket, petticoats, and cloaks, receivedthem very kindly, and laughed and chatted away as if their visitorscould understand what they said. Lines were fastened from side to sideacross the tent, on which were hung household utensils, clothes, and allsorts of things, and a sort of cradle, with a baby fastened on to it. The little creature could not move hands or feet, but seemed perfectlyhappy. 

In a little time the men came back, saying that a haunch and a legshould be theirs. These parts were placed in the canoe; and, after afriendly parting with the Indians, Rob and his companions, paddled offtowards the mill. 

It was late when they reached it; but the weather was fine, there was abright moon at night, and they determined to start back at once. Theybought three thousand feet of boards, with which they formed a raft. Soon after the sun rose they reached the landing place near their home. 

Mr Landon kept to his promise to call a bee, and in three days asubstantial log-house was erected, and the planks laid down of theground and upper floors. The rest of the work, it was left to Rob andhis brothers to finish. 

Great was the surprise of Mrs Hale, when her sons, with her husband andFanny, took her to see the house which she had thought was being builtfor some stranger coming to the settlement. 

"It's yours and father's, mother, just an offering from your children, "said Rob. "If you will let Fanny and me have the old one, we hope tomake ourselves happy in it. "

Mrs Hale thanked her dutiful children, and thanked God for havingbrought them to a country where their industry and perseverance had beenso fully rewarded. 

STORY FOUR, CHAPTER 1. 

JOHN ARMSTRONG, THE SOLDIER; OR, BARRACK AND CAMP LIFE, WRITTEN BYHIMSELF. 

I do not think that any one will care to know why I turned soldier. This much I may say, though; my native village was not far off somebarracks within twenty miles of London; I had often watched the soldiersat drill, and had talked to a good many of them, till I fancied that Iknew something about a soldier's life. Now I wish to tell you what itreally is, not only in comfortable barracks at home, but in camp abroad, in heat and cold, and before the enemy. I had my reasons for wishingnot to enlist near home, and so bidding my parents and brothers andsisters good-bye, they not crying out, "Don't go, " at break of day, onefine October morning, in the year 1850, started off for London without apenny in my pocket, or any other property than the clothes on my back, good health, and a stout heart. 

I had walked a fair bit of the way, when I felt very hungry. I hadtaken nothing before I left home. Food I must have. Before me I saw apublic-house, The Rabbits. A number of people were in the bar-room. "I'll tell them I'm going for a soldier, and ask for food. They'll notrefuse me, " I thought. I stepped in, and told them my tale. They allseemed much pleased. "You must have pluck in you, my lad, to do that, "said one; "you deserve a breakfast. "

"You'll have no want of masters, " observed another. "Still somebodymust do the work. " Most of them had some remark to make. In the end, they ordered me a thorough good breakfast of eggs and ham, and hoped Imight never have a worse wherever I might go. This set me up till Ireached the Tower of London, near the Thames, where I had been advisedto go. The Guards were doing duty there. A sergeant I met asked me ifI wished to join them. I said, "Yes. " So he at once placed me under amark to measure my height, but I was not tall enough for the Guards. Hethen asked me if I would like to join any other regiment. I answered, "Yes; I've no choice. " He seemed pleased, and at once marched me off toWestminster, at the other end of London, where a recruiting company wasstationed. He there took me to a sergeant of the 44th regiment of foot. After I had wished my old friend good-bye, my new friend asked meshould I pass the doctor's examination if I wished to join them. Ofcourse I said "Yes. " And after he had asked me whether I was "married"or "a widower, " to which I said "No;" with other questions, he put outhis hand, and offered me a shilling, in the name of Her Majesty theQueen. I took it, and was from that moment a soldier, provided I passedthe usual examination. I felt very tired, and somewhat out of spiritswith so many strangers in different uniforms around me, and was veryglad when the sergeant told me that he had paid for a bed for me, andthat I might go to it whenever I liked. I was very thankful to put myhead on the pillow. Thus ended my first day in the army. I had timenext morning to think over some good advice given me by an old sergeantat the barracks. 

"Remember, my lad, " said he, "when you get your pay, don't scatter itabout as if it would never come to an end. There's nothing you so soonsee the last of. When you find one of your new comrades particularlycivil, find out what sort of a man he really is before you treat him orlend him cash. If a non-commissioned officer is very polite andslackens the reins of discipline to favour you, stand clear of him. He'll pluck you clean and then eat you up. Keep out of temptation, andshow that you are going to be a sober, steady man, by consorting onlywith those who are sober and steady. Never lose your temper, even whenwronged by a superior. Be smart in learning the drills and all yourother duties. It is better to be thought well of by your officers andby a few good men, than by all the wild chaps in the regiment. Andremember, Jack, my boy, what an old soldier says, that while you do yourduty to your Queen and your country, you do not forget your duty to yourGod. A man may be a good soldier and a good Christian at the same time. He'll be all the better soldier by being a good Christian. To know howto be that, read your Bible, lad, say your prayers, and attend the houseof prayer whenever you can. "

I wish that I had always followed my old friend's advice. I did oftenremember it, and gained much advantage from having done so. 

I was down by six o'clock; and in the common room I met a number ofyoung men just enlisted, like myself. There was plenty of talking--questions asked and answered: "What regiment are you for?"

"Where do you come from?"

"Why did you enlist?"

"Do you think you'll pass the doctor?"

This talk was interrupted by the sergeant exclaiming, "Now then, youyoungsters, look out, and get ready for the doctor's inspection. "

"We haven't had any breakfast; we want breakfast, " cried several voices. 

On this the sergeant ordered in breakfast for us, in the shape of ahalf-quartern loaf and two ounces of butter for every four recruits. That over, we were marched to the bath-rooms. 

"Now then, young 'uns, strip; get into that bath; scrub and cleanyourselves, " cried the sergeant; "for it's time that you were at theinspection-room. "

Having done as we were ordered, we marched off to the inspection-room, where we waited till the doctor arrived, who was to say whether or notwe had bodily health and strength to serve Her Majesty. We had beenwaiting, not a little anxious, when the sergeant cried out--

"Recruit Armstrong, pass at once into the inspection-room. "

On hearing my name, I ran into the room. The doctor looked at me for amoment, and then said--

"Stand on one leg. " I did so. "Now on the other. Bend over until youtouch the ground. "

I had seen the recruits at the barracks do that, and had tried it often;so did it with ease. 

"Rise again, " said the doctor. "Hop on your right leg. Now on yourleft. Put out your arms at right angles to your body. Cough. Can yousee well? Read those dots. "

"Four, sir, " said I. 

"How many are there now?"

"Two. "

"Pull that machine. Blow that machine. That will do; you can go, " saidthe doctor. "Sergeant-major, send in the next one. "

There were thirteen of us sent in one after the other; but only two, Dick Marshall, a Suffolk lad, and myself, were passed, --the rest havingsome defect which made them unfit for soldiers. 

On our return, the sergeant asked Marshall and me if we would mind beingtransferred to the 90th regiment, stationed at Manchester. 

We answered, "Not in the least. "

On that we handed back our shillings to the sergeant of the 44thregiment; the recruiting-sergeant of the 90th Light Infantry puttingfresh shillings in our hands, and thus enlisting us in his regiment. Wewere then taken to a magistrate, and sworn in to serve Her Majesty for aperiod of ten years, if at home; or if on foreign service, not to exceedtwelve. 

We finished our day with a dinner, of which I may say that I have eatenmany a better; and we then took a stroll about Westminster, and had alook at the fine old abbey and the Houses of Parliament, where the lawsare made. I may just remark that a soldier, if he keeps his eyes open, and himself out of the beer-shop, may, wherever he goes, see a number ofplaces and things worth seeing, which will give him something to thinkabout and talk about to the end of his life. 

The next day, after breakfast, we were marched off to "pass thecolonel;" that is, that he might see us, and say whether he would haveus. He arrived at noon. 

"Now, my boy, get under that standard, " said he to me. 

I did so, and found that I measured five feet six and three-quarterinches. 

"Is he all right, doctor?" he asked. "Perfectly so, sir, " was theanswer. "That will do, my boy; you can go. " The trial I thought somuch about was over. Marshall and I had now a few shillings handed overto us, and were fast bound for our agreed-on term of servitude, unlessat any time we might be able to buy ourselves out of the army. For thenext three days we had nothing to do but eat our meals and walk abouttill five o'clock, when we had to appear at the rendezvous; that is, thehouse where the recruiting-officer had his head-quarters. 

On a dark morning--the 5th of November--we were roused up at half-pastfour, and, after parade, were marched off to the railway-station toproceed to Manchester, the barracks at which place we reached at ten atnight. We were at once sent to a room full of beds, ranged along thetwo walls. All were occupied except two, which were turned up. Thesewere soon made ready, and Marshall and I crept into them. We did notspeak to any of the men, and no one took any notice of us. Though wewere both well tired, what with the strangeness of the place, and thesentinel every half-hour calling out the number of his post and "All'swell, " neither of us could sleep till near morning, when the bugle'ssound quickly made us start to our feet. In about five minutes thebedding of each bed was neatly folded up, and the iron bedstead turnedup over it, with a pair of trowsers, folded into three parts, placed oneach, and a forage-cap and stock above. A line was then stretched alongthe room to see if all the beds were made up of the exact size. Thisdone, the orderly-sergeant came into the room to see that everything wascorrectly arranged; and if any bed was not done up properly, it wasimmediately pulled to pieces, to be done up by the owner afresh. Allthe men not on duty, except the recruits, turned out for half an hour'sdrill in undress uniform. The orderly-sergeant having taken downMarshall's name and mine in his memorandum-book, went out to drill hiscompany. They were dismissed at half-past seven, but the recruits werekept a quarter of an hour longer, when the breakfast bugle sounded. Theroom orderly, I should say, is a man told off to keep the room in order, to draw all rations for the day for his room, to have meat andvegetables weighed, to see that they are correct in quantity andquality, and to take them to the cook of his company. At the sound ofthe bugle, the orderly-men ran to the cook-house for their coffee, apint of which was served out to each man in a white basin, with a poundof somewhat brownish bread. Breakfast over, the orderlies cleared away, while the rest of the men commenced cleaning their appointments forparade, which was to be at eleven o'clock. This was in full uniform andlight marching order. The recruits were to appear in plain clothes. 

A sergeant came to Marshall and me, and told us to fall in. He then putus through our facings. 

"Right dress. Eyes front. Stand at ease, " he exclaimed. 

From having often stood at ease, when watching the men drilling, withoutthinking of what I was about, I fell into the proper position. 

"To what regiment did you belong, young man, before you joined the90th?" asked the sergeant, thinking that he had caught a deserter. 

"To none, " I answered. 

"Not so sure of that, " said he. 

"A man may have learned to drill without being a soldier, " I remarkedquietly. 

He said nothing; but I had better have held my tongue. 

After the parade, we fell in and proceeded to the orderly-room, wherethe colonel again inspected us, and asked the usual questions: "Can youread?"

"Yes. "

"Can you write?"

"Yes. " And so on. 

"That will do, lad, " said the colonel. "Sergeant-major, that recruitwill be posted to F Company. "

The sergeant of that company advanced. "Now, my lad, " said he, "comeon. "

I followed him to the room to which I was posted, where he directed anold soldier to look after me and give me all necessary information. Myinstructor's name was Higgins. He was a good-natured man, and had seenmuch service, on the strength of which he indulged in the pleasure ofgrumbling and finding fault with things in general, rather than withpeople in particular. After he had showed me the bed which I was toconsider my own, and other things, the men came about me, and asked me anumber of questions, which I answered frankly; and thus the time passedtill one o'clock, when dinner was ready. 

The dinner was a very good one, and all the mess things, plates, basins, knives, forks, and spoons, struck me as being very nice and clean. Higgins asked me to sit down; but, as I cast my eye over my rough notover-clean countrified dress, I felt ashamed of myself among so manyfine-looking red jackets, forgetting that every man present had oncebeen much in the same state that I then was. All, however, wentpleasantly enough till three o'clock, when the recruits fell in fordrill, as did the regiment. The drill of the regiment lasted only halfan hour, while ours lasted an hour. Our drill-sergeant, Herbert, ajolly good fellow, called us to the position of attention. After we hadbeen drilling for some time, he asked, as the other sergeant had done, if I had before been in the army; and when I told him that I had not, heordered me to stand at ease. My comrade kept eyeing me whenever hecould, wondering what was going to happen. I now learned what I havesince found always to be the case, that every scrap of knowledge which aman can pick up is likely to come into use some day or other. Thedrilling I had got on W-- Common for my amusement now did me goodservice. It, in the first place, gained me Sergeant Herbert's favour, and, making me feel superior to the other recruits, gave meself-respect, which helped me much to keep steady. On being dismisseddrill, I went to my room, where Higgins began to teach me the "buglesounds, " and another old soldier "the manual drill, " and other things;so that I soon found out that, whatever I might think of myself, I hadplenty yet to learn. 

At half-past four we went to tea, each man getting a pint of tea and aquarter of a pound of white bread. After that meal, some in dress andothers in undress uniform, went into town; others remained in barracks, playing drafts and other games, until "tattoo, " at half-past eight, whenthe first post sounded, and all men about the town, on hearing it, immediately returned to barracks, or should have done so. In themeantime the orderly-sergeants called the rolls of the respective rooms, noted all the men absent, and gave lists of them to the regimentalorderly-sergeant. He again called the roll, and reported all stillabsent to the officer of the day, who reported them to the adjutant[Note 1]. On receiving the report, the adjutant sent the pickets [Note2] out to bring them in, when those out without leave were confined tobarracks, or received some other punishment the following day. Thisdone, the staff and non-commissioned officers [Note 3] are dismissed totheir rooms. 

Such was my first day in barracks, and such were many days of my lifeafterwards. Such indeed is a soldier's ordinary day. On the Sundaythere is a parade instead of drills, and the men are marched to theirrespective churches; those of the Church of England to theirs, thePresbyterians to theirs, the Roman Catholics to theirs. On the last dayof the month, the regiment falls in for parade generally, in England, ingreat coats, when every man borne on its strength must answer to hisname, or be accounted for as "on duty", "on furlough", "inimprisonment", "deserted", "deceased", "in hospital. " Regiments arealso marched out of barracks into the country with bands playing andcolours flying, and there are reviews and sham fights occasionally. Soldiers, too, are placed as sentries before officers' quarters andother places, and they have many other duties to perform even in thepiping times of peace. I shall soon have to show the life they lead inwar-time. Theirs is not an idle life, but still they have plenty oftime for amusement, and what is more, for improving themselves if theywill but wisely take advantage of it. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Note 1. The adjutant is chosen from among the lieutenants or captains, for his steadiness and knowledge of military duties. He is thecommanding officer's principal assistant. All orders are passed throughhim, and he has to see that the young officers and non-commissionedofficers are perfect in their drill, and many other things. 

Note 2. A picket is a body of men told off for these and other duties. A camp is guarded by them. An out-lying picket is placed at somedistance from it to give notice of the approach of an enemy. 

Note 3. Non-commissioned officers are chosen from among the men fortheir superior knowledge and steadiness. They are so called becausethey are appointed by the colonel, and have not received commissionsfrom the Queen. Many, however, for their bravery and high conduct, havereceived commissions, and have risen to be captains, and even to higherrank. Those thus promoted frequently become adjutants of theirregiments. 

STORY FOUR, CHAPTER 2. 

Men enlist for many reasons, the greater number because they are out ofwork, and do not know how else they are to live. These are the mostcontented, because they do not expect much, and find themselves, if theyare steady, pretty comfortable, well fed, and well clothed. The worstoff are lazy fellows, who join, expecting to have an easy, idle life, with little to do. Besides drilling and learning the use of his weaponsand the various movements to be performed to get him into a soldier-likeshape, with parades and inspections, and field-days, and reviews, andsham fights, and marching out in the winter, and sentinel, fatigue, andpicket duties, --he has his appointments and arms to keep in order, andin his turn, his mess things, room, and other places to clean. Andoften he has heavy work; roads to make, fortifications of various sortsto throw up, and other similar tasks required by an army in the field;still, after all, there is no work harder than most of the men wouldhave had to go through if they had remained at home. 

About the end of February, the regiment was ordered to proceed toIreland. A special train took us to the large town of Liverpool, fromwhich ships sail to all parts of the world. Getting out of the train, we formed, and marched down to the quay by the river Mersey, where alarge steamer was waiting for us. We went on board, and she soon beganto paddle down the river on her way to Dublin. It was the first time Ihad ever been at sea with water around on every side, as far as the eyecould reach. We soon however caught sight of the Irish coast, and verypretty I thought the bay of Dublin as we steamed into it. I now beganto find out one of the advantages of a soldier's life; that is, visitingnew places. I did not then think how many strange places I should seeduring my time of service. Going on shore, we formed, and marched to arailway-station, when the train carried us westward to Cork. Here theregiment was stationed. Some of the companies, and mine among them, remained at head-quarters, and others were sent out on detachment dutyat various places. Soldiers on detachment often meet with adventures ofvarious sorts, especially in Ireland. They are stationed at differentsmall towns and villages, where the inhabitants, especially the fairsex, are apt to make a great deal of them, from not being so accustomedto see red coats as are those in large places. I must hurry over theevents at this period, that I may have space to give accounts of thoseof more stirring times. 

I had made up my mind on joining, to be a steady man, and I was glad toremain at head-quarters, because I knew that there my conduct would beobserved by my superior officers. There were temptations enough to actdifferently, but I knew that a few glasses of whiskey or anyirregularity would in a minute cloud all my prospects. I had, it mustbe understood, no advantages above the rest of my comrades. I was butmyself a country lad, about the youngest in the regiment, but I hadheard an officer remark that there was the making of a good soldier inme; and so I gave my mind and heart to the work, and that made me likeit. 

I have said nothing about Marshall. He was in a different company frommine, and had been on detachment. After some time his company returnedto head-quarters. He seemed much changed, and from being a brisk, lively lad, was sad and silent. We were always friends, though he didnot take to soldiering as heartily as I did. I asked him what was thematter. He told me at last. He had lost his heart to a farmer'sdaughter. She was very pretty and young and good. He had met hercoming home on a car, with her aunt and a female cousin with three menfrom a "wake. " That is the name given in Ireland, to a burying party. The men, as is generally the case after such meetings, were very drunk. The car broke down. The other women were hurt, and the men could nothelp them. Marshall arrived at the moment, mended the car, left thedrunken men to find their way home as best they could, put the old ladyupon it and walked home at its side with Kathleen O'Neil, who had nofancy for again mounting. Kathleen was very grateful, and so was heraunt and cousin, and asked him to come again another day. That ofcourse he did, not only once, but very often. One of the men who hadbeen in the car, Shane McDermot, was, Marshall found, a lover ofKathleen's, but she did not like him. No wonder, for he was a rough, savage-looking fellow. Kathleen at length showed that she likedMarshall, and she warned him to beware of Shane. Dick was astout-hearted fellow, and said he did not fear him. A man would thinktwice before he would attempt to shoot a soldier, not but what officersand men too have been shot in Ireland. 

Marshall continued his visits as usual, and the oftener he went the morein love he grew with Kathleen, and the more, it was clear, she lovedhim. 

One evening, after the tattoo had sounded, as he was hurrying home, ashot whistled by his ear, and directly afterwards two men set upon himwith their shillalahs. One he knocked over with his fist, and drawinghis bayonet, put the other to flight. He was pretty certain that theman he knocked over was Shane, but he could not stop to see; indeed hethought that it was wiser to push on to his quarters. When he toldKathleen the next day, she was very unhappy, and said that she should bethe cause of his death. Dick told her not to be afraid, and finished byasking her to marry him. She said that she would with great pleasure, and follow him, like a true good wife, round the world. This made Dickperfectly happy. When he came, however, to speak to the captain of hiscompany, he found that as he was one of the youngest men in theregiment, he had no chance of getting leave; and that if he marriedwithout leave, his wife would have none of the privileges of a soldier'swife, and that he would be treated as a single man. The last time hesaw her she promised that she would marry no one else, and ever remainfaithful to him. 

My company afterwards went on detachment, and I was stationed at thesame place that Marshall had been. He had begged me to go and seeKathleen. When her family knew that I was his friend, they treated mevery kindly. I went to the house several times. Shane was there oneevening. I was not surprised that she did not like him. There was ascowl on his brow and a glance in his eye, as he turned towards me, which made me think that he was very likely to have a shot at me somedark night, if he could get the chance. I would not accuse any man ofwishing to do such a thing, and there are thousands of Irish who wouldbe horrified at the thought of taking the life of a fellow-creature, butsuch deeds are too common in that country. The reason why this is so Imust leave to others who ought to know more about the matter than I do, to say. It must be remembered that Shane had already tried his hand atthe work, so that I did not think ill of him without cause. Whenever Ihad spare time I went to see the O'Neils. When I went away at night, Iwalked quickly along in the middle of the road, feeling pretty sure thatShane would try to treat me as he did Marshall. 

I had, I should say, soon after I came to the place, picked a poor boyout of a pond, when more than half drowned, and carried him home; and asI found the family very poor and wretched, I left some money with them. As I never spent any money in liquor or other folly, I had always a fewspare shillings in my pocket. Pat Nolan's mother, as far as words went, seemed very grateful, but I never put much trust in them: and though Ihad several times gone to see the Nolans, I scarcely thought about whatfirst took me to the cottage. 

One day I had been sent by my captain with a letter to a house threemiles off. I was kept there some time, and it was nearly dark when, onmy way back, I came to a wild, open place, half common and half bog, with nearly a mile of road across it. Just as I got to a small bushnear the road, I heard a voice say, "Hist, hist, soldier; turn back andcome with me. It's a long way I'll be after taking ye, but it's betterthan being shot any how. "

"Who are you, and where are you?" I asked, seeing no one. 

"It's me, Pat Nolan, then, " answered the ragged little urchin, creepingfrom under the bush. "May be he's not far off just now, with that thiefof the world, Dan Fegan, and one or two others looking out for ye. "

I was half inclined to go on in spite of Pat's warning. "Why should Ibe afraid of those Irish chaps?" I thought to myself. But little Patbegged so hard that I would not, that I began to think it would be wiseto follow his advice. 

"Och ahone! ahone! you'll be kilt entirely if you go now!" exclaimed theboy, crying and pulling at me to go in the direction he wanted. 

I felt that it would be foolish to run into danger for no purpose, andthat at all events I should have only rather a longer walk than I hadexpected. "Well, Pat, I'll go with you, " said I. 

The little chap gave a leap with delight. "Arrah! then there's no timeto be lost!" he exclaimed, leading the way down a lane which skirted theedge of the bog. 

I followed, and had to step out fast to keep up with him. 

"Ye'll have to lape over some pools may be, but it's all hard belowwhere I'll lead ye, so don't be afraid now, " he whispered, putting hisfinger to his lips. 

I laughed aloud. 

"Hist, hist; he'll be after hearing you, " he said, in the same tone asbefore; "but come on now. "

He turned and led the way across the bog. I leaped when I saw him leap, and kept directly in his footsteps, and often the ground quaked as Ipassed, or moved up and down like a raft at sea. As we moved on, thewater got up to my ankles; then over them. I thought that Pat had losthis way, but he kept on without stopping or turning to one side or theother. The water got deeper and deeper, indeed there seemed to benothing but water around; then once more it began to shoal, and at lastI found that we were walking on dry ground, but still of a very boggynature. At last we were in something like a path, with peat-holes oneither side. It was quite dark before we reached the heath or dryground I was looking for. Pat even then, I found, kept away from theroad I was to have taken. After going a little way I thought that I sawsome figures through the gloom. Pat thought so too, for he pulled at mycoat-sleeve, and whispered to me to crouch down. I did so for sometime, and then again we pushed on. Pat led the way till we got into aroad I knew, leading direct to my quarters. He then told me to hurryon, and before I had time to put my hand in my pockets to give him somemoney, he was off. 

At muster-roll that evening, one of our men, Jackson, did not answer tohis name. He had been sent in the direction I had gone. The nextmorning he did not appear. A party, of which I formed one, was sent outto look for him. Not far from some bushes, with a hole behind them, --aplace made for an ambush, --we came upon some blood in the road. Wehunted about. There were the marks of men's feet at the edge of theroad. After hunting some time, one of our men cried out, "Here he is!"

There, in a hole, half covered with water, lay our comrade. At first itwas thought that he might have fallen in, but two dark marks by the sideof his head showed where a brace of slugs had entered it. I felt surethat they had been intended for me. It seemed as if I had wronged him. Poor fellow! we bore him sadly homeward. I judged it right to tell mycaptain what I knew of the matter, and a warrant was issued for theapprehension of Shane McDermot. Parties were sent out to search forhim, but he was not to be found. There were plenty among the countrypeople to help him. The only thing some of them seemed to think that hehad done wrong was, that he had shot the wrong man. Kathleen wasthankful that I had escaped, but glad to be rid of Shane. It was notlikely that he would venture back to the neighbourhood while we werethere. 

After some time, my company was ordered back to head-quarters, to berelieved by another. Kathleen bade me tell Marshall that she remainedfaithful to him, and loving as ever. 

I gave the message to Marshall. It raised his spirits, and yet he couldscarcely believe that so pretty a girl, and one in some respects sosuperior to himself, should care for a poor soldier. However I told himthat it was a good reason why he should attend to his duties morestrictly, and try to obtain promotion to be able to support her. Thewife of even a non-commissioned officer has a hard time of it; of a man, still worse; but worst off of all is the wife of one who marries withoutleave. 

On getting back, I found a notice posted that all men wishing to go on"furlough" must send in their names to the captains of companies atonce. I sent in mine, as I had saved enough pay for my expenses, andthrough the kindness of the sergeant-major and adjutant obtained afurlough for six weeks, to proceed from Cork to B-- in the county ofE--, and took my passage in the steamer to London. We had a fine viewof the coast from the Land's End in Cornwall, to the North Foreland inKent. 

Landing in London, I went to an inn, breakfasted, cleaned myself so asto look as smart as I could, and set off home. How different I felt nowto what I did leaving home a year ago. I opened the door and looked in. They were all at dinner. What cries of delight and shrieks andlaughter there were, though my sisters vowed they scarcely knew me, Ihad grown so stout and manly. I was made heartily welcome, and had avery happy time of it. I went to see my old friends at the barracks; Iwas welcomed by them too, but many had been sent off to India. 

I must be moving on though with my story. After spending a happy fiveweeks at home, I returned to Cork at the proper time. I was rathervexed to find the morning after, that all men returned off furlough wereto fall in for recruit drill. However, as I was the youngest of any ofthem, I had no reason to complain. I thought, "I'll just show that Idon't require it;" so I pulled myself together, and was dismissedrecruit drill next day. 

Soon after this I gained what it had been my hope from the first toget--that is, promotion, --and was made lance-corporal. I wished thatMarshall could have got the same, for Kathleen's sake, but he was not sofortunate. The difference was this, --I had a taste for soldiering, bornwith me perhaps: he had not. 

I was soon after sent off on detachment duty to Spike Island, in theCove of Cork or Queenstown Harbour. Our duty was to guard a prison fullof convicts, not the pleasantest in the world, though I well knew thatthere wasn't a man within those walls who did not richly deserve hislot. I only wish that evil-disposed men knew better than they do whatit is to be shut up in a place of the sort; they would take some painsto gain an honest livelihood rather than run the risk of being sentthere. 

The harbour is a very beautiful one, surrounded almost by high hills, many of them well wooded, and so is the whole way up to Cork. While Iwas there a new batch of convicts came in; among them I saw a face Ifelt sure I knew. It was that of Shane Mcdermot. He cast a look ofsurprise at me, as much as to say, "Why, I thought that I had shot you. "I could not exchange words with him; but the more I watched hiscountenance, the more certain I was that it was him. I concluded thathe had committed a crime in another part of the country, and had beenconvicted, and sent on here. There he was, and there I hoped, for thesake of my friends, he would remain. 

I was not sorry when we were ordered back to head-quarters. Soonafterwards the regiment went to Dublin, where we were stationed, scattered about in different barracks, and doing garrison duty for twoyears or more. During that time I again went on furlough. If I hadbeen proud of appearing at home before, I was prouder still now toreturn as a non-commissioned officer, and I felt pretty sure that as Ihad gained one step I should gain another. I was heartily welcomed, butsomehow or other that second going home was not equal to the first, three years before. Many changes had taken place among my friends: somehad gone away, some were dead, some married. Still I was very happy, but I had an idea that it might be a long time before I should go backto the old place. 

On my return to Dublin I had to go on recruit drill for a day, asbefore, when the sergeant-major gave me and others a hint, which wewisely took, to have our hair cut for the next parade. For another yearafter this we were kept here on garrison duty, with some pretty hardfield-days in the Phoenix Park, and the usual marchings out in winter. 

STORY FOUR, CHAPTER 3. 

The sort of life we led in Dublin was all very well in its way, but formy part I wished for something more stirring. There seemed now to be achance of our getting it. The papers began to talk of war with theRussians. They had been ill-treating the Turks. Now the Turks are ourfriends. I do not know exactly why, for I cannot say much in theirfavour. In this case the Russians had behaved very ill. During a thickfog, a large fleet of their ships had sailed into a Turkish port, andblown up and burnt a number of Turkish vessels, killing no less than5, 000 Turks on that day. This made the English very angry. It wasclear, too, that the Russians intended getting hold of the chief city, Constantinople, and the country of the Turks. Our hopes of warincreased when we heard that the English and French fleets had gone upthe Black Sea, and then that the Guards and other regiments were to besent up the Mediterranean to Malta, and then on to a place called Varna, on the shore of the Black Sea, in the country of the Turks, and nearRussia. It was said also that the Russians were collecting an army in apart of the country called the Crimea, in the Black Sea, where there isa strong fortress with a town and harbour called Sebastopol. We, ofcourse, every day looked eagerly into the papers to see what regimentswere ordered abroad, but the 90th was not among those named. Thisgreatly vexed both officers and men, and some fretted and fumed verymuch at it. It was the daily talk at the mess-tables of all ranks. 

"More regiments ordered for foreign service, " exclaimed Marshall; for, strange to say, he was as eager as any one about going. He wanted to bedoing something, poor fellow, to keep his mind away from Kathleen. "See, here's a list, --others talked of, but no mention made of the90th. "

"Let well alone, lads, and be content, " observed Higgins. "Fighting isall very well to talk about, but the reality is precious rough work; andso you'll find it, when your turn comes, --mark my words. "

Not long after this, on the 14th of March, the regiment was on parade, when the commanding officer read a letter to us which he had justreceived. It was to the effect that a few men might volunteer for the42nd Royal Highlanders and 79th Cameronian Highlanders. We all knewwhat that meant, that the 90th was to be kept at home, and that thosetwo regiments were to fill up their numbers for foreign service. When, therefore, the word "volunteers come to the front, " was given, insteadof forty, which was the whole number required, forty from each companystepped forward, making four hundred in all. Marshall and I were amongthem. It was an anxious time with us till it was known who wasselected. I was among the first chosen. Marshall's was the last name. I was glad not to be separated from my old comrade. The volunteersbeing ordered to parade in front of the commanding officer, he in a verykind way gave us some good advice. He then expressed his earnest wishesfor our welfare, and hoped that he should never hear of any of those whohad served in the 90th, getting into disgrace, but that when next hemight see us, instead of privates and corporals, we should have becomesergeants. Every word he said I took in greedily, and honestly believethat I profited by his advice. 

There was no time lost. Not many days after that, on the 28th of March, war was formally declared by Great Britain against Russia. We, withvolunteers from other regiments, at once proceeded by passenger steamerfrom Dublin to Portsmouth. Marshall had barely time to write a shortnote to Kathleen. He told her of the regiment he had joined, and wherehe expected to go, and promised to remain faithful to her as long as helived. 

It was on Saint Patrick's day, that we landed at the dockyard, to thenumber of two hundred, in all sorts of uniforms, the men out of a dirtysteamer not looking over-clean. We then marched to the barracks atAnglesea, where that "braw" regiment, the well-known "Forty-and-twa"were stationed. The adjutant and captains of companies then came toinspect us, and choose men for their respective companies. The captainof the grenadier company had the first choice, and the captain of thelight company the second. I with eight of our men, including Marshall, had the honour of being selected by him. I was posted to a room atonce, and ordered to get my kit ready in a quarter of an hour forinspection. It was fortunately nearly a new one, and looked clean. Thecaptain was pleased, and ordered me not to show it for a month. He theninquired how long I had been a non-commissioned officer, and directed meto attend at the orderly-room to copy orders and to take the detail ofthe company for the next day. After writing it down, he told me to readit to him. 

"Yes; that will do, " he said. "Are you anxious to obtain promotion?"

"Yes, sir, " I answered, not a little pleased. "Very well; you have comewith a good character from your late regiment, maintain it, and you willbe sure of promotion in the 42nd. I understand that you can drill verywell. I shall see how you get on, and if in a satisfactory manner, Iwill recommend you to the adjutant. "

The next Monday I was ordered to drill a squad, while the adjutant stoodat a distance watching me. I did my best, and when drill was over hesent for me, and asked if I would like to be struck off duty for thepurpose of drilling the second squad of recruits. Of course I said yes, but begged to be allowed a few days first, to get used to the duties ofthe regiment. 

I had good reason to be satisfied with the change I had made. I hadonly been a few days in the regiment, and was already looked upon withconsideration and respect. How was this? Had I greater advantages thanany other young man? No, except that I had a taste for soldiering. Ihad simply kept steady and done my duty to the very best of my power. Ihad not been idle with my books either. I had read a good deal, andpractised writing and ciphering, so that I wrote a really good hand, andcould keep accounts well. I mention this to show what is required of ayoung man in the army, who wishes to work his way up to become anon-commissioned officer. It is through the sergeants that thediscipline of a regiment is maintained, and they must possess theeducation I have spoken of, and be intelligent, steady, honest men, orthings will go badly in that regiment. 

For the best part of the next two months we were engaged every day inrifle practice, and I had the satisfaction of making some good hits. Now came the order we had been long eagerly looking for, to embarkforthwith for the Crimea. Loud cheers were given by the numerouslookers on as, on the 26th of May, we went on board the transport, andwe cheered loudly in return. We little thought then of what we had togo through, or how many of our fine fellows would leave their bones in aforeign land. Everything was well arranged on board. Strict disciplinewas kept up. Our rations were good, and regularly served out to us; andas the weather was fine, we had as pleasant a voyage as we could wish. We landed at Scutari, a place on the Bosphorus, the strait that leadsinto the Black Sea, opposite the big city of Constantinople. Here weremained for three weeks hard at work, drilling. Some of the troopswere in huge barracks, and we with others were encamped. Fighting wasgoing on at a town called Silistria, between the Turks, who bravelydefended it, helped by two or three English officers, and the Russians, who had tried to take it, but could not. A great many Turks werebrought into the hospital badly wounded, and one poor fellow had bothhis arms and legs cut off. He was the subject of conversation for manyan evening in our tents. We were in the light division, under Sir ColinCampbell. The first British soldier who lost his life during the warwas killed here by his own rifle, which sent a shot through, his legabove the knee. Here also we were supplied with the Minie rifle, havinghitherto used the old percussion smooth bore. 

Scutari is a beautiful spot, with the blue waters of the strait, and theglittering white city, surrounded by dark trees, and vessels and gayboats of all sorts moving about. We should have been content to remainthere if we had not thought on the work before us. In July we againembarked, and proceeded to Varna, in company with numerous vessels, crowded with English, French, and Turks. We and the French were allies, helping the Turks, though there were only 7000 of them, while we and theFrench had each rather more than 26, 000 men of all arms. 

Varna is on the shore of the Black Sea, not far from the Crimea, andbelongs to the Turks. We were here encamped with the Guards and otherregiments on a dreary plain in different villages some tray out ofVarna. We were kept hard at work with frequent drills, getting readyfor real fighting. One night we were roused up with the sound of heavyfiring in a wood close to us. The bugle sounded to arms. We sprang toour feet, but before we could get under arms the supposed enemy wasaway. They were a company of the 60th Rifles and Rifle Brigade, supplied with a few rounds of blank ammunition. This sort of work tookplace frequently, to accustom us to surprises, and not without reason, as we found to our cost at Inkerman. The Rifles seemed to think it goodfun, and laughed at the trouble they had given us, making us turn out sooften in the middle of the night. We were employed also in makinggabions and fascines [Note 1] out of the brush-wood which grew near, andpractised in throwing up trenches and fortifications. 

Work we did not mind, fighting we were eager for, but we had an enemyagainst which it was hard to contend; that was the cholera. Officersand men were quickly struck down by it. The Guards alone lost nearly ahundred men. It was sad to hear the poor fellows' cries as the terriblecramp seized them. All the troops suffered more or less from sickness--the French more than all. We were thankful when the order came for usto embark once more for the spot where we hoped to meet the enemy. Yetmany a strong man was so weakened by illness that he could scarcelymarch to the shore. We got on board our transport on the 1st ofSeptember and remained thirteen days, hoping to get rid of the dreadfulplague which had attacked us. We lost, however, three and sometimesfour men each day. Fastened up in their blankets they were sunkoverboard. Some, however, floated to the surface, and it was no easymatter to get them down again. It was sad work, and damped the spiritsof many. That big fleet, with more than 60, 000 men on board, was a finesight, though, as on the 14th of September we anchored off Old Fort onthe coast of the Crimea. The order was joyfully received to landimmediately. On all sides were the big transports, the largest EastIndiamen, and the men-of-war, and numbers of steamers, all in regularorder, each with their proper flags. We of the light division had oursblue and white chequered. 

Number One company of the 23rd Welsh Fusiliers were the first on shoreon a sandy beach. We landed soon after. Sentinels were marched off atonce by companies and thrown out in a direct line from the sea far intothe country. Parties with rifles loaded, and eager for the honour, aswe called it, of firing the first shot at the Russians, were despatchedin search of wood and water. Towards the evening it came on to rainvery hard, and we had no tents or covering of any sort. We of the lightdivision were pushed on inland, to give space for the other troops toform as they landed. Our orders, issued by Sir Colin Campbell, were toremain quiet, and, above all things, to keep our rifles and ammunitiondry. At about eleven at night a shot was fired by one of the enemy'ssentinels, which whistled close to us. "Stand to your arms, " was thecry, "the Russians are upon us. " At the same time our whole line ofsentinels opened a brisk fire on, it was supposed, the advancing enemy. 

What cared we then for the rain and cold! The moment we had beenlooking for had arrived. The whole force which had as yet landed stoodunder arms, and thus we were kept till it was found that the surprisehad been caused by a patrol of Cossacks, who had come upon us unawares. Wet and chilled as we were the hours passed slowly by, though we kept upour spirits pretty well. So passed our first night of campaigning. Thenext morning a few companies were marched down to the beach, to assistin landing our tents, and the ammunition, artillery, and stores, theartillerymen laughing at us, and hoping that we had passed a pleasanttime on shore. By the night we got our tents pitched, and hoped to havea quiet rest, but the little gnat-like Cossacks were again buzzing aboutus, and were off before we could get a shot at them. The next four dayswere passed in landing stores, while the commissariat officers werecollecting provisions from the country around, and which the peasantswere very ready to supply. 

Late on the 19th the light division was attacked by a mounted battery ofartillery. The infantry was brought to the halt, and the artillerycalled to the front, with the whole of the cavalry, about a thousandmen, who were opposed by 2000 Cossacks. Shortly afterwards a guncarriage was seen coming to the rear with a poor fellow on it, his legbroken and thigh fractured. Several men on both sides were knocked overby the shot. That was the beginning of our campaign. After this LordRaglan forbad any farther advance. 

We remained where we halted all that night, our tents being left in therear. Each man unrolled his blanket and great-coat to make the best ofit he could. We were tired, hungry, and thirsty, but at last the rationrum was served out, and a half a bullock distributed to each company tobe divided into messes, and cooked ready for next day, as it wasexpected that we should have a long march and a brush with the enemy. Many a fine fellow slept his last sleep on earth that night, and many astrong man before the next sunset was to be a helpless cripple. Asoldier, above all men, may be thankful that he does not know what isbefore him. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Note 1. Gabions are like large round hampers, without top or bottom, tobe filled with earth. Fascines are like long, tight fagots. 

STORY FOUR, CHAPTER 4. 

THE DAY OF BATTLE. 

It was still dark on the morning of that 20th day of September, 1854. The whole army of the allies lay stretched on the damp ground. Threehours after midnight the cry was heard, "Stand to your arms. " We roseto our feet, every two comrades wringing their wet blankets, and placingthem on their knapsacks. We then fell in, and waited till daylight, when we were ordered to pile arms and fall out, but not to go more thana hundred yards from our regiments, as we might be required at amoment's notice to march to the front. 

The sun rose brightly, without a cloud in the sky, and at seven o'clockthe whole army advanced. The Turks were on the right, next the sea, then the French, next the British second division, followed by thethird, and on their left the light division, followed by the first andfourth. On the left of all marched the cavalry. The artillery of eachdivision was on its left. Baggage and ammunition trains kept closebehind. The whole country was open, with rise beyond rise, till atlength, after marching for two hours, we reached a rise, when we sawbefore us what was ere long to be the scene of a bloody battle. Theground sloped gently down to the river Alma, which ran directly in frontof us, its banks covered with villages and orchards and gardens. It wasfordable in most places. On the other side a range of hills, three andfour hundred feet high, rose suddenly up from it; on our right, toosteep to be climbed; but in front of where we of the light divisionstood, showing more gradual slopes. On these slopes, earthworks hadbeen thrown up by the Russians. On the top of all, the ground waslevel; and it was here and on the slopes that the Russians were postedbetween us and Sebastopol. We had to storm those heights, and to drivethe enemy off the level ground on their top, in the face of the heavyartillery and the dense masses of infantry with which they were lined, not forgetting the strong reserve in the rear. We could see the Frenchon the right beginning the action, climbing up the heights, and firingas they advanced; then a strong force of Russians, who were nearly takenby surprise, moved to meet them. With Rifles and skirmishers in front, fighting with the Russian riflemen, the second division of the Britishthen advanced in line. Up the hill they went, right at the enemy. Thefiring became general along the whole line. A village burst into flamesbelow us. We, with other Highland regiments and the Guards, were formedin line, --a band, I may say, able to meet any enemy in the world in ahand-to-hand fight or charge of bayonets; but the enemy's round-shot andbullets came rattling among us, and picked off many a stout fellow. Wewere therefore ordered to lie down to avoid the shot, our men grumblingnot a little, and asking why we were not led at once against the enemy. We soon saw the reason why. Many young soldiers who had before talkedof fighting as good fun, now changed their note, and found what terriblebloody work it is. 

At last came the welcome order to advance. To show how cool some menare, even at that moment one of my comrades composed some verses, whichhe repeated to those near him. We sprang to our feet; down the steep wedashed, through orchards of apples and grapes and other fruit. Severalof our fellows, stopping to pick the fruit to quench their thirst, wereshot dead. We passed quickly across the Alma, which in some places wefound so shallow that many of us scarcely wetted our feet. Once more wewere ordered to take shelter behind a long stone wall. Then came thewelcome order, "Up, Guards and Highlanders, and at them. "

Up the hill we went, halting but for a moment, to allow the somewhatbroken regiments which had hitherto been engaged, to pass between ourranks, and then right at the enemy we dashed, firing as we advanced, andprepared to charge, if he would have stood for us. As we reached thesummit, a grand sight met our eyes, --the whole army of Russians spreadout on the plain before us; but as we got nearer, we saw their backsinstead of their faces; for they had already had a sufficient taste ofour quality, and were in full retreat. Now and then they turned andfired, and my right and left-hand men were both killed in that manner. I had marked the Russian who had killed the last; and, dropping on myknee at the moment the bugle sounded cease firing, I took a steady aim, and stopped him from boasting that he had killed an Englishman. 

We were much disappointed at not being allowed to follow the enemy. Still it was a glorious moment when we found that we had won a greatvictory, as we cheered and cheered again, and comrades grasped eachother's hands, and congratulated ourselves on what we had done. To showwhat strict discipline is kept up in the army, at this moment I foundmyself placed under arrest for having fired after the order to ceasefiring had sounded. On the circumstance being reported to thecommanding officer, he directed that I should be brought before him. "Why did you fire?" he asked. I told him. 

"Then I only wish that every man in the army possessed the same spirit, "he answered. "Let him be released. And now let me tell you that Ishall have the satisfaction of reporting your cool courage andsteadiness before the enemy to the proper authorities. "

My comrades cheered lustily when they heard this decision. 

The army remained on the heights we had won till nearly dark, when theregiments were ordered to the positions allotted to them for the night. After we had formed our bivouac, I was much pleased at being sent for bythe officers, and complimented by them on the way I had behaved duringthe day. At last we were ordered to remain quiet, and fresh ammunitionwas served out to us. We then lay down to rest, but all ready for asurprise; and rest we did on the bare ground, for we were well wearyafter our day's toil. The Russians, however, had had enough fightingfor the present, and let us alone. 

A little before daylight on the 21st, we fell in, and remained underarms for some time. On its being ascertained that the Russians hadretreated to a distance, we were ordered to clean and examine ourrifles, and then to pile them. Rations were then served out to us, andwe ate them with no small appetite, while waiting for orders. Sir ColinCampbell, soon after this, rode into our midst, and called his brigadeof Highlanders to attention. His speech was short, but to the point. He congratulated us all on the success which had been gained the daybefore, and complimented all--officers and men--on the cool courage theyhad exhibited under trying circumstances. He reminded us that thefighting was not over, though we had gained a victory; but he waspersuaded that we should continue to perform our duty as true soldiersto our queen and country. 

"To-day and to-morrow the army must remain on the ground to remove thewounded and to bury the dead, " he added. "I regret to say that the deadare very numerous, especially among the Guards and Welsh Fusiliers. Thewounded must at once be carried down to the shore; and remember, mylads, that a wounded Russian is no longer an enemy, but afellow-sufferer with our own comrades, and must be treated as such. "

We listened with attention to our brave general's address. A kinderofficer or a better soldier never lived. 

Pick-axes and shovels were at once served out to some of us, whileothers were provided with stretchers to carry the wounded down to thebeach, I belonged to the party who had to perform the saddest duty asoldier has to go through after a battle, that of burying the dead. Talk of glory, talk of the fun of fighting, --just let a man spend twodays on a hard-fought field, as we had to do, and it will be enough totake out of him all love of fighting for fighting's sake. It was anawful sight, to see the number of fine fellows who lay stretched on theground, never more to move. I had no idea that so many of our ownBritish had been killed. The most dreadful to look at were those whohad been struck by round-shot, some with their bodies almost torn topieces. One moment they had been full of life, rushing on to the fight;the next there they lay, heaps of clay, their spirits far, far-off. Icould not help asking myself how it was that I was not in the place ofone of them. While some of the parties dug large holes in the ground, others collected the dead, and threw them in--it was no time forceremony--thirty or forty in one hole; some fine young fellows, othersdark- or grey-bearded men, their last fight over. 

"Ah, " I thought, and I dare say others thought too, "if those who setmen to fight--the emperors and kings and governments--could but see thissad sight, may be they would stop to think, and try and make up theirquarrels some other way. "

Hundreds and hundreds we buried during those two days, our comrades bythemselves, the Russians in pits by themselves. We could tell how thefight had gone by the way in which the bodies lay. In one place theRussians had made a stand, and were piled up in heaps as the Britishagain and again charged them. In other parts the round-shot had tornthrough whole ranks of men, cutting them down like corn before thereaper's sickle. 

I afterwards marked the spot where the Highlanders had poured in theirfire on the enemy, and made those who escaped our bullets turn and fly. It was my first battle-field; it was the first and last of many poorfellows. And I say again, it is a fearful thing to see God's imagedefaced as I there saw it in a thousand terrible ways. 

STORY FOUR, CHAPTER 5. 

I have heard it said that no army was ever driven from so strong aposition as that from which we drove the Russians. We took a number ofprisoners, and among other things, the Russian general's carriage, withhis letters to the emperor, saying that we could not do just the verything we did do, --drive him from that hill. 

The next day the army marched inland, with Sebastopol on our right, ourgenerals wishing to get round to the other side of the town, where therewas a good harbour for our ships called Balaclava. We marched on allday, seeing now and then a few Cossacks, who galloped off as weadvanced. We bivouacked at night; that is to say, we slept on theground as we best could, with only our cloaks and blankets round us. Wehad not much rest, for we were called to arms several times, it beingthought that the enemy were on us. At last we heard the approach ofcavalry. We sprang to our feet, and fell in ready for action, but itwas only our own cavalry, which had been sent up to protect our flanks. 

The next day we came suddenly on a large body of Russians as it seemed. They, however, did not stop for us, but made off, leaving a quantity ofwagons full of provisions and ammunition. We blew up the powder, whichwe did not want, and helped ourselves to the provisions, which we did. My comrades and I got a quantity of meal to make cakes, and firewood asour share. 

There was an old fort at Balaclava, on the top of a steep hill. It wasdefended very bravely by its old commander; but he soon found that hecould not hold it, so he and his eighty men marched out and surrenderedthemselves prisoners of war. We thus gained a good harbour for ships. The part of the army to which I belonged, after remaining a few days atBalaclava, was marched to the front before Sebastopol. We were hereemployed in digging trenches, and throwing up batteries, and getting ourguns into position; that is, into the batteries, pointed towards thetown which we were about to attack. We were twenty-four hours on duty, and the same number off duty, when we could rest from our work. Veryhard work it was. Thousands of us were employed in it. We had to cut azigzag road, as it were, deep into the ground, with a bank towards thetown, so that the shot from the guns in the town could only strikeacross the road, and not along it. 

We toiled away to get all our batteries ready as soon as possible. TheFrench and we were ready at the same time, but the batteries weremasked; that is to say, the front was covered up so that the enemy couldnot see whether we were ready or not. 

The sun rose in a bright sky on the morning of the 17th of October, andat half-past six o'clock, a hundred and twenty of our guns--some of themthe largest ever made, and which had as yet not fired a shot--beganfiring away as hard as they could. The Russians answered with as manyguns of the same size, and thus there were nearly two hundred and fiftyguns all firing away together. The noise was awful. We knocked over agood many of the enemy's guns, and they blew up a French magazine; bywhich a hundred men were killed in a moment. A good many of our menwere killed. The smoke was so thick that the gunners could not even seethe town at which they were firing. 

The day after the guns opened, it was made known to us that tenvolunteers from each regiment--good shots--were wanted to get as closeup as possible to the town, and to shoot the Russian gunners wheneversight could be got of them. 

I at once volunteered and was accepted. Having been paraded before theDuke of Cambridge, who told us what we were to do, we set off. Shot, shells, and bullets were whizzing and hissing by us as we made our wayonwards. 

We had not got far when one of our party was wounded. One of mycomrades, Donald McKenzie, and I halted, dressed his wound as best wecould, sent him back to the hospital, and then pushed on, creeping andrunning, and taking advantage of every bit of cover we could find. Wethus got up to within a hundred yards of the Russian guns in a fort theycalled the Redan, and jumped into a pit which the enemy had themselvesdug to shelter their own riflemen, who came there at night to annoy ourworking parties. Here we were sheltered, and could pick off the Russiangunners without being seen. They soon, however, found us out, and sentdoses of cannister and grape shot towards us, knocking the dust andstones about our heads. A grape shot hit the right hand of one of mycomrades, and took off the forefinger. "Ah, my boys, I'll pay you offfor that, and give you a warm one in return, " he exclaimed, as hereloaded his rifle. He was as good as his word, and he picked off manya Russian who appeared in their batteries. 

Our batteries had different names. One near us was the 21 Gun Battery. Red-hot shot were fired from it, and before long they blew up a Russianmagazine. The men in the battery, mostly Jack Tars, seeing this, got upand cheered lustily; and even we who were in the pits so close to theenemy couldn't help doing the same. We had better have been silent, forthe enemy sent a shower of rockets and grape shot among us as also atthe battery. One of the rockets blew up an ammunition wagon, bringingpowder into the battery. This made the Russians jump up and cheer, andas we picked off some of their men as they did so, they sent out acompany of their sharpshooters to attack us. Our captain, seeing this, thought it prudent to retire. We therefore each of us took steady aimat a particular man, and in most cases knocking him over, jumped out ofthe pit and retired towards our camp. 

The next day we returned to the same place by a different road. It wasnot well chosen, and several of our men were wounded in going towardsthe pits. We held them for some hours, when the Russians, not likingthe way we treated them, came against us in strong force. We of coursehad to jump out of our holes and retire, but they almost surrounded usas it was. Fortunately the force of riflemen on outpost duty saw ourposition, and advanced to our assistance. We then retired towards them, disputing every inch of the ground. 

The Russians had now got into the pits we had left. Once more, therefore, we advanced to drive them out. They stood their ground, andwe had a fierce hand-to-hand fight with them. 

I found myself engaged with a fellow who fought more desperately thanany of his comrades. Having discharged his musket, he rushed at me withhis bayonet, a dig from which I had much difficulty in avoiding. Justthen his helmet was knocked off, and I saw clearly the features of ShaneMcDermot. I cried out "Traitor, deserter, scoundrel, I know you!Yield!"

On hearing this he seemed as eager to escape as he was before to fight. Calling to his comrades in Russian, several of them sprang back withhim. Others, however, stood their ground, and gave us shot for shot. Iloaded, and fired at Shane. I thought that I had hit him, for he fell;but he was up again and retreating with his companions. 

Meantime the rest of our party were actively engaged. Joseph Hartley, acorporal of my party, showed a great deal of spirit. He jumped on tothe top of the mound overlooking the pits, and firing rapidly, shotthree Russians, one after the other, through their heads. A captain ofthe Guards jumped right down into the pit, and was wounded through bothhis wrists. 

The Russians, however, at last took to flight, leaving three dead andmany more wounded. We took their rifles and ammunition from them, andreturned into camp, helping along the captain of Guards, whose woundshad been bound up by my comrade Donald McKenzie, who has before beenmentioned. 

We continued the same sort of work till the morning of the 25th ofOctober; while the Duke of Cambridge was instructing us what to do, newswas brought that the Russians were attacking Balaclava. We hastened tojoin our respective regiments, and found the Russians in great forceattacking on all points. The Turks, who had charge of the outposts, hadbeen driven in, and the 93rd Highlanders, under Sir Colin Campbell, wereformed in line ready to receive the Russian cavalry as they advancedtowards the hill. A steady volley, at two hundred yards, sent theRussians flying back, but, to the surprise of the Highlanders, not a manfell from the saddle, when it was found that they were all strapped onto their horses, so that the dead and wounded were carried out of thefight. The Enniskillens and Scots Greys clashed right on the flanks ofthe retreating cavalry, and cut them up terribly before they could getback to the Russian army, which appeared with a strong force ofartillery on the opposite side of the valley. 

It was shortly after this that the light cavalry, through a mistakenorder given by poor Captain Nolan, who was directly afterwards killed, charged across the valley at the enemy's guns, other guns playing onthem from either side. If the French cavalry had not charged and helpedthem, not a man would have escaped; as it was, they were fearfully cutup, the greater number being killed or wounded. Still it was a sight tomake a soldier's heart beat quick as with their helmets glittering andtheir swords flashing in the sunbeams, that gallant band dashed acrossthe valley. But it was sad to watch those who did escape, coming back, many on foot, one wounded man between two others, some scarcely able tosit their horses, very few unhurt; and to think what a gallant band theyhad looked as they rode down the hill but a few minutes before. 

We remained on the heights of Balaclava that night, prepared to receivethe Russians if they had returned; but they had had enough of us, andhad retreated. We of the light division remained stationed at thisplace all the winter. 

There was another bloody battle fought not long after this on the 5th ofNovember, called the battle of Inkerman. The allied armies were postedon high ground, with the sea on one side, and deep valleys on the other. Below the British right, where the ground was very steep, were therivers Chernaya and Inkerman. The Russian general knew that this wasour weakest point, and evidently hoped to take us by surprise. Themorning was so dark and foggy that the officers who were visiting theoutposts could not see twenty yards before them into the valley. SirThomas Trowbridge was the first, I have heard, to discover the approachof the enemy. They were close upon our camp with 60, 000 men, and werebeginning to climb the heights before the bugle sound summoned ourtroops to stand to their arms. The British during the whole day had notmore than 8, 000 men engaged. The Russians climbed up the heights, butagain and again were driven back, till the French, at last coming up, put them to flight. The Guards, who had a great deal of the fighting, behaved most bravely, and lost a great many officers and men. TheBritish army on that morning had 43 officers and 416 men killed, and 101officers and 1332 men wounded, while 200 were missing, mostly madeprisoners. 

A very severe winter now set in, and a large steamer _The Prince_, withclothing for the army, sank off Balaclava in a fearful gale, in whichmany other vessels were lost. The weather was very cold, with snow andwind and rain, and our poor fellows suffered greatly from want of foodand clothing and shelter. Our tents were nearly worn out, and were atall events unfit for the winter, and we were obliged to live in hovelsand holes in the ground. From what I have heard, many more men die ofsickness in war-time than are killed in battle; and from the numbers whodied of cholera and other complaints, in the Crimea, I believe that tobe true. 

I have not said anything about Marshall for some time. He did his dutysteadily and well, and was always cool under fire. He had notvolunteered as I had done for any dangerous work, but he was a man onwhom I knew that I could rely, whatever was to be done. He came one dayto me in high spirits, with a letter he had received from Kathleen. Sheprayed that the war would soon be over. She said that her father hadjust had some money left him, and would, if he was willing, as soon ashe returned home, purchase his discharge. 

"It's a kind, noble offer, " said Marshall; "I will accept it andreturn, --work for him as long as I live. "

I praised his intention, said that I wished I had the same chance, andwished him a long life and happiness with his pretty Kathleen. Soonafter this my old comrade was made a corporal, and I received an honourI little expected. A general parade was ordered for the whole regiment, when a square being formed, in the centre of which the colonel withother officers were posted, several men were called up, I being one ofthem. He then presented us with a distinguished conduct medal, on whichwere the words, "For distinguished conduct in the field. " On giving memine, he congratulated me and wished me long life to wear thedecoration. He hoped, he said, that many other young men in theregiment would follow my example, and he could assure them that if theydid, the same rewards were in store for them. The captains of companieswere then ordered to march their respective companies to their privateparades, when my captain wished me long life and happiness, and mycomrades were so pleased that they lifted me up, and carried me to myhut, and the medal went the rounds of the whole company. 

"Well done, Jack; I'm glad you've got that. You've earned it, that youhave, my boy, " was the sort of remark made to me by my comrades, oneafter the other. Marshall also was commended for his bravery andcoolness. 

"Ah Jack, I'll do something to try and gain that, to carry home to her;"he said to me as he gave the medal back into my hands. 

That dreadful winter passed away at last. I do not think that Britishtroops ever went through greater trials than did the British army in theCrimea, and never did men submit more patiently, or more nobly do theirduty. There is one thing to be said, our officers set us the example. They suffered as much as we did, and never complained. We could nothelp ourselves; but many of them we knew well were gentlemen of goodproperty, who could have enjoyed life at home, in ease and comfort; andinstead of that they stayed out with us at the call of duty, wentthrough the hardships and risked their lives as we did, who had nothingto lose and everything to gain. One young baronet, with many thousandpounds a year, was killed at the battle of the Alma, and his brother whosucceeded him fell directly afterwards. Both commissioned andnon-commissioned officers and men performed many gallant deeds. Several, when their comrades were wounded, dashed forward, and thoughthe shot, shells, and bullets of the enemy were flying about theirheads, lifted them up in their arms or on their backs and took them outof the fight. The Honourable Major Clifford in this way carried off oneof his men who had fallen close to him, from among the enemy; so didSergeant Moynihan, who is now a captain. On the 8th September, SergeantMoynihan was the first to enter the Redan. One of his officers, Lieutenant Smith, having been killed, he made a gallant attempt torescue his body, and after being twice bayoneted was made prisoner, butrescued by the advance of the British. John Alexander, a private of the19th regiment, brought in Captain Buckley and several men after theattack on the Redan. At the battle of Inkerman, Private Beach, seeingLieutenant-Colonel Carpenter lying on the ground, and several Russiansadvancing towards him, dashed forward, killed two of them, and protectedthe colonel against his assailants, till a party of the 41st regimentcoming up put them to flight. Private Mcdermot, also at Inkerman, savedthe life of Colonel Haly, much in the same way. However, I could fillpages with accounts of the brave deeds done by our men during the war. Many young sergeants not only gained the Victoria Cross, but had theircommissions given them, and are now captains and adjutants of theirrespective regiments. A man, to gain this rank, however, must be steadyand sober, have a thorough knowledge of his duty, be brave and cool, anda good scholar. 

However I must go back to my tale. We remained at Balaclava till June, when we were ordered to the front to take part in a proposed attack onthe fortress. The French were to attack the Malakoff battery, and we, under Sir George Brown, the Redan; while another force under GeneralEyre, was to threaten the works about the dockyard creek. 

The French began the attack before daybreak, and before long the orderwas given for us to advance. We could not hold the Redan till theFrench had taken the Malakoff. We advanced rather too soon. We weremet by a tremendous fire, and Sir John Campbell who, calling to thetroops to follow, led the way over the parapet right up to the enemy'sguns, was shot dead with many other officers and men. Other officerswith small parties of men would dash forward, waving their swords, onlyto meet the same fate. 

"Come, boys, " cried Marshall, who had been for some time under theshelter of the parapet, "I'm resolved to gain my promotion to-day;who'll follow? We'll take those guns. "

Nearly twenty men sprang out with him and rushed forward. Poor fellows, they were met as the others had been by an iron shower, which left notone unhurt. Only three got back, and Marshall was not among them. Iwould have tried to bring him off, but the others said he was among thefirst killed. However, I resolved to go and look for him as soon as Icould, without the certainty of losing my own life, as I should havedone had I gone then. 

It was sad to think that so many brave men should have lost their livesto no purpose. A truce was arranged for a few hours that both sidesmight bury their dead. The instant the white flag was hoisted on thefortifications of Sebastopol, I hurried towards the Redan to look forMarshall, before any of the burying parties should find his body if hewas killed. I had some slight hopes that he might still be alive, though unable to move on account of his wounds. It was sad to see thenumber of the bravest of our men who had fallen under the Redan. Thewhole way up to the guns was strewed with bodies, and as I got nearer tothe guns, there were many corpses of Russians, who had attacked theBritish as they were retiring. I looked eagerly about. There lay poorMarshall. I took his hand. He would never grasp rifle again. Near himlay a Russian soldier, whose bayonet, it seemed clear to me, had piercedhis breast, and who himself had been shot at the same moment byMarshall's rifle, for the weapons lay crossed on the ground as they hadfallen from the grasp of the dying men. The Russian soldier had rolledover on his side. I turned him round. Though his face was begrimedwith dust and smoke, I at once knew his features. They were those ofShane McDermot. He had at length met the fate he deserved--too good forhim, many will say, but he had also been allowed to kill in revenge ashonest and brave and simple-hearted a soldier as ever fought for hisQueen and country. I felt inclined to kick the body of the seemingRussian, but I did not. I saw at once that such would not be a worthyor a Christian act. "He is in the hands of One who knows how to rewardand punish, " I thought to myself; and leaving the dead body of my enemywhere it lay, I lifted that of my friend on my shoulders, and bore itaway towards our lines. I was resolved that it should rest in Britishground. Several persons asked why I was taking so much trouble with adead body. 

"He was his comrade and friend, poor fellow!" I heard one or two say. 

I carried him to a quiet spot, and there I dug a grave as deep as Icould, and hunted about till I found a stone, which I placed at hishead. I should say that before I placed my old comrade in his grave, Isearched his pockets that I might send anything I could find in themhome. Among them was a pocket-book, and in it was a letter he hadwritten the night before to Kathleen. He told her how he hoped to winfame and a name, and might be win his commission, and make her a lady asshe deserved to be. Poor fellow! his ambition, which till then had beenasleep, was aroused. How soon was it, with all his earthly hopes, cutshort! Such has been many another young soldier's fate. We lost thatday alone, 22 officers and 230 men killed, and 71 officers and upwardsof 1000 men wounded. Altogether it was about the saddest of the wholewar. 

STORY FOUR, CHAPTER 6. 

We worked on, making our zigzag approaches, night after night gettingnearer to the city. Often during the time I used to go and visit poorMarshall's grave, and I own that I dropped many a tear over it, as Ithought of his worth, and the grief the news of his death would cause topoor Kathleen's heart. That would not be dried up so soon as my sorrow. His fate might be mine any day, and I had plenty of things to thinkabout. The poor girl would mourn alone. One day I was thus standingnear the grave, when I heard a boy's voice say, "Sure that's yourself, Mr Armstrong. "

I looked up, and before me I saw a young drummer-boy, in the uniform ofthe 57th regiment. 

"Yes, my lad; and who are you?" I asked, not recollecting the features. 

"Pat Nolan; sure and it's many a day I've been looking for you, "answered the lad. "I've come out to see the war, and it's enough I'veseen of it any how. "

I was glad to see poor little Pat. The world had gone ill with him andhis family, and an elder brother having enlisted, he also had done so asa drummer-boy. His brother had been killed, and he was, as it were, left alone in the world. I promised to befriend him as far as I could, poor boy. I had no doubt that the men of his regiment would look afterhim and treat him kindly. 

A few nights after this I was in the trenches, when I saw a shell comingdirectly towards our position. I cried out at the very top of my voice, "Close cover, " that the men might get close under the embankment of thetrench. Some followed my advice, but others stood still, when the shellexploded in the midst of us, wounding twelve of our number, some veryseverely, and, in addition, a captain of my regiment. I saw him fall, and thought that he was killed. I ran to him and found that hebreathed, so I went and brought a stretcher from the end of anothertrench, and placed him on it. He begged to be allowed to die in peace, as he was mortally wounded, but another man and myself undertook tocarry him to the hospital, at the Twenty-one Gun Battery. The shortestway was across the open space between the trenches. As there were fullya hundred shells and rockets in the air at once, there was plenty oflight for us to see our way. We agreed to run the risk of being shot, and to carry him across, as it was important to have him looked to atonce. We reached the battery without being hit, but our poor captaindied within a quarter of an hour of entering the hospital. Weafterwards carried his body to his quarters, where his brother officers, when they heard of what had happened, soon came to take a last look atone they all loved so well. 

The day was coming on, as we well knew by the advance in our trenches, when another attack on the fortress was to be made. The Russians hadkept us fully employed, and during July and August several times cameout from behind their lines to attack us, and were as often driven back. There is one matter I forgot to talk of. All this time it was pleasantto know that we were thought of by the people at home. Comforts ofevery sort were sent out to the soldiers--food, and clothes, and books;and missionaries and other ministers of religion came out and preachedto those in health, and comforted the sick and dying; but besides this, hospitals were established in the more healthy parts of the countrybelonging to our allies, the Turks, to which our sick and wounded weresent. What also won the hearts of our wounded men was the gentle carewith which they were tended, not by hired nurses, but by many ladies whocame out from England on purpose to assist them. Those who had beencured, and came back to the Crimea, told how they had been treated; andI do not believe that there is a soldier of that army but who blessesthe ladies of England for the sake of those who acted as nurses in themilitary hospitals in the East. 

On the 5th of September the whole of our batteries again opened on thetown, and went on firing night and day, till, on the 8th at noon, theFrench, who were to attack the Malakoff, made the signal to advance. They rushed on, as they always do, very quickly; and before theRussians, who were at dinner, had time to defend the place, they were init, and their flag was flying on the ramparts. Now came the turn of theBritish, who had to attack the Redan. On they went; but the Russianswere ready for them, and they were met by a hot fire of musketry andartillery. Major Welsford, of the 97th, who led the storming party, waskilled, and Colonel Handcock was mortally wounded. There was not ahotter fight during the whole war. We had officers and 356non-commissioned officers and men killed, and not far from 2000 wounded;and, after all, our men were compelled to retire. It was known that theHighland brigade, under Sir Colin Campbell were to renew the attack thenext morning. We made up our minds that it would be a day of bloodshed, but we hoped also of victory, and we were prepared for it. 

In the night, however, an officer, with some men, went out to look for afriend who had fallen in the works of the Redan. Not seeing him, hewent on and found no sign of an enemy. This being told to the engineerofficer conducting the works, he sent a corporal of sappers, who alsofound all still within. Sir Colin, on hearing of the matter, called forten volunteers from each of the Scotch regiments to learn the truth. They, advancing at a run, crossed the ditch, and a man of the 93rd wasthe first to scale the rampart. The place was deserted. The Russians, on a bridge of boats and rafts, had crossed over to the other side ofthe harbour during the night, having set the town on fire in all parts. We took possession of a city of blazing houses and exploding mines. Itwas some time before we could move about, for fear of being blown up orcrushed by falling houses. The whole city was a ruin, and the Russianshad also sunk or burnt all the ships in the harbour, so that it seemedthat they had left us little worth having. 

Then came the sad work of burying those who had fallen in the assault onthe Redan, as also those who had defended it. The Russians were placedby themselves, at one end of the ditch, and our men at the other, andthen we shovelled the earth from the slope over them both. There theylie; the rampart of the fortress the one had fought to defend, the otherto gain, their monument. The most terrible sight, however, was in abuilding which we did not enter for two days, I think, on account of thehouses burning round it and the mines exploding. It was a hospital; andin it were two thousand human bodies, and out of the whole scarcely fivehundred were alive. The rest had died. For forty-eight hours no onehad been near them to give them a drop of water, or dress their achingwounds. I've often thought what those poor fellows must have gonethrough. Then we had to carry them out, and bury them. It wassickening, terrible work. Those at home little know what a soldier hasto go through. It is not all gold and glitter, let me tell them, marching here and there on a fine day, with the sun shining, and bandplaying, and colours flying. 

I am not one of those who would tell a young fellow not to go for asoldier. Very far from that; but I wish to let him know that he willhave a great deal of hard, trying work to go through, and he will haveto face death in all sorts of ways. Still the man who has a fancy forsoldiering, and is steady, is sure to get on, and will find it a goodprofession on the whole. 

After we entered Sebastopol, the war was over, but it was some timebefore peace was proclaimed. We were heartily glad when that time came;for we were getting very sick of the place where we had lost so many ofour comrades and friends. We sailed back as we had come, in a number oflarge transports; and thankful we were to see the shores of Old Englandagain. 

I went out soon afterwards with our regiment to India. That is a largecountry, a long way off, on the other side of the world nearly; thegreater part is very hot, and the natives are of a dark-brown colour. They are mostly heathens, and worship all sorts of ugly idols of woodand stone, but some are of the same religion as the Turks, and believein the false prophet, Mahomet. The East India Company had a large armyof these men, with English officers, but native non-commissionedofficers. These native officers, with some of their chiefs, thoughtthat they could take the country from the English. They pretendedtherefore that the English government were going to make them turnChristians by force, and persuaded the men to revolt. They kept thissecret, and on a sudden the greater number of the native regiments roseagainst their English officers, murdered many of them, as well as manycivilians, with their wives and children, and took possession of severalfortified places. The most important were Delhi and Lucknow. In oneplace, Cawnpore, a chief, called Nana Sahib, got General Wheeler and allthe English in the garrison into his power, and murdered nearly thewhole of them, soldiers and civilians, women and children; the bodies ofthe latter he threw into a deep well. Three persons alone out of onethousand escaped that dreadful massacre. The accounts of these thingsmade the hearts of British soldiers burn within them. We had a numberof native troops from other parts of the country who remained faithfulto the British, but still the rebel regiments far outnumbered theEnglish troops. We found ourselves once more under the command of ourold general, Sir Colin Campbell. We marched from Calcutta to Cawnpore, from which the wretch, Nana Sahib, had taken flight, and then on toLucknow, which the rebels still held in great force. We lost a greatmany men by cholera, and had frequent skirmishes and one or two pitchedbattles with the enemy--till early in March, 1858, we were beforeLucknow. Here we had some severe fighting. We had to storm one largebuilding after another, but at length the rebels were driven out, andnumbers cut to pieces. On one occasion I had to climb a tree to seewhat the enemy were about on the other side of a wall; though hundredsof bullets whistled by me I descended unhurt, but was soon afterwardshit on the breast with a bullet which knocked me over; I was up again, and refusing to go to the rear, assisted to capture a fort, and spiked agun with my bayonet. While doing this, my kilt was riddled withbullets, though I escaped unhurt. I was not so fortunate a day or twoafterwards, when attacking a large block of palaces full of Sepoys, forI received a shot in my neck which laid me low. I was carried out ofthe fight by my comrades, and my wound was so severe that I had to beinvalided home. The fight before Lucknow was my last battle. 

The English beat the Sepoys wherever they were met, and at length theBritish rule was once more firmly established in India. 

It was not till I got home again that I was able to go and see poorKathleen, and to give her the few things belonging to Marshall. She wasstill single; and I have good reason to think that for his sake shewould remain so. Such as I have described them, are some of the commonevents of a soldier's life. 

STORY FIVE, CHAPTER 1. 

JOSEPH RUDGE, THE AUSTRALIAN SHEPHERD. 

When God formed the round world we live on, He made some parts veryunlike other parts. The climate, the trees and plants, and the animalsof some countries altogether differ from those of other countries. Ifwe could go right through the globe just as a darning needle is runthrough a ball of worsted, we should come out close to a country tentimes as large as England, which belongs to our Queen, and is calledAustralia. To get to it, however, we have really to sail round aboutover the sea, and the voyage takes about three months. When it iswinter in England, it is summer there. The trees do not shed theirleaves, and many of the animals carry their young about in bags beforethem, and like the kangaroo, have long hind legs with which they springover the ground. It is a fine country for cattle and horses, and stillmore so for sheep, the wool of which is very fine. 

About three hundred miles from the sea, up the country, and towards theend of December, a few years back, a busy scene was to be witnessed. 

The country was not hilly nor flat, but swelling with ups and downs. Onone side was a forest, but the trees were wide enough apart to lethorsemen gallop between them. Other trees of odd twisted shapes, butlarge, with the bark often torn off from the stems, were scattered abouthere and there. Still most of the country was open and covered withgrass, long leaved and scanty, very unlike that of meadow land inEngland, but still affording good feed for sheep. A creek ran out fromthe forest with a stream of water, which filled a small lake orwater-hole. On the higher ground stood a house of one floor, with averandah round it, a large wool-shed, a stable, three or four smallercottages, or rather huts, and other outhouses. There was a small gardenenclosed, but no other signs of cultivation. There were numeroussheepfolds and two cattle pens, but the rest of the country round wasquite open. It was the head sheep station of Moneroo, owned by MrRamsay, who managed it himself. 

It was well managed, too, for the watchful eye of a master whounderstood the work to be done was everywhere. The sheep-pens werefull, and there were a number of men moving about. Some were down atthe creek up to their knees in water, busy washing the sheep, which weredriven down to them. A still larger number were near the wool-shed, with long shears in their hands taking the soft snowy fleeces off thecreatures' backs. One flock was seen coming in from a distantout-station, following the careful shepherd, who, like those we read ofin the Holy Land, had taught his flock to know his voice. Anotherflock, having been shorn, was moving off to its usual run. 

Towards evening, a dray laden with stores was seen, its wheels andbullocks' hoofs as it drew near the station stirring up the dry earthinto clouds of dust. It brought casks of flour, and pork, and hogsheadsof sugar, and boxes of tea, and cheeses, and all sorts of cooking andmess things, and saddles, and harness, and ropes, and tobacco, andcattle medicines; indeed, it would be hard to say what it did not bring. By the side of it, besides the usual driver and his mate, strode asturdy, fresh-looking Englishman, whose cheeks had not yet been burnt bythe hot sun of Australia, and two young boys; while on the top of thedray sat his wife--a comely looking woman--a girl of thirteen, and threesmaller children. Dick Boyce, the bullock driver, pointed out themaster to the new chum he had brought up from the chief port of thecolony. The latter stepped forward at once, with one of his boys, whilethe other stayed with his mother, whom Boyce and his mate, Tom Wells, helped to dismount. The new comer gave a letter to Mr Ramsay, and heand his sons stood watching his face while the master read it. 

"Very good, " said Mr Ramsay, as he folded up the letter, "your name Isee is Joseph Rudge, and you have brought your wife and children. "

"Yes, sir; that is my good woman out there by the dray, and this is oureldest boy, Sam, " answered Joseph, touching the arm of one of the stout, fine-looking lads by his side with a look of honest pride. 

Mr Ramsay smiled, and asked, "Where do you come from?"

"Wiltshire, sir, " answered Joseph. 

"You understand sheep?" said Mr Ramsay. 

"Been accustomed to them all my life, " said Joseph. 

"How many do you think you could shear in a day?" asked the master. 

"May be three score, " answered Rudge, looking with an eye somewhat ofcontempt at the small breed of sheep he saw before him. "At a pinch, I'd say fourscore, sir; but I don't think a man could do more than thatproperly, from what I know, and from what I've heard. "

"You'll do, my man, " said Mr Ramsay, looking well pleased, "make myinterest yours, and yours shall be mine. Mr Thompson, my agent atMelbourne, tells me that he has engaged you and your family for fiftypounds a year, and all found. Your eldest lads will soon learn how tomake themselves useful, and so will that lassie there, while your wifewill keep your hut when you are out with the sheep. You will stay herefor a few weeks to learn our ways, and then I will send you up in chargeof an out-station. To-morrow you will begin work, for we have plentyfor you to do. "

"Thank ye, sir; I'll do my best to serve you, and so will my wife andchildren, " answered Joseph, in a hearty voice which showed that hepurposed to do what he said. 

Joseph and his family were at once placed in possession of a vacant hut. It was a rough-looking place, but served well for that fine climate. The frame was of wood, with slab walls, and was roofed with sheets ofbark from a tree called the "stringy-bark tree. " It was divided intotwo parts. The bedsteads were rough frames with hides stretched onthem, but there were good beds and pillows stuffed with short wool, ofwhich no one could complain. A table, and some stools and benches, witha cupboard and plenty of shelves and hooks was all the furniture theyfound in the hut. Joseph and Sam went off to the storekeeper, to gettheir rations, and came back with a fine supply of everything theywanted. 

That evening, as Joseph Rudge and his family sat round the table atsupper, he thanked God heartily for having brought them into a goodcountry, and placed them in the hands of a kind and just master. Thiswas the character Dick Boyce and his mate had given of Mr Ramsay, asthey travelled up with the dray from Melbourne. 

The next day, Joseph set to work with his shears, with Sam to help him. He did not shear so many sheep as the contract shearers, but he shearedwell, leaving none of the bottom wool, and his employer was perfectlysatisfied. He got through two score the first day; two and a half thenext; and three the next. He observed one man who sheared no less thansix score in one day, but Joseph on his way home to dinner observed thatmuch of the bottom wool--the most valuable in a fleece--remained on thesheeps' backs. He told Tom Wells what he had seen, and Tom told Boyce, and soon afterwards Mr Ramsay went to the pens in which the sheep wereplaced, and sent for the fast shearer, John Butt. John was very angry, but Mr Ramsay was firm, and refused to fulfil his part of the contractunless he sheared the sheep properly. 

"I'll pay the fellow off who brought the matter before the master'seyes, " growled John Butt. "It's that new chum; I saw him looking at thesheep. What business has he to come and interfere with our ways?"

Joseph Rudge had thus made an enemy though he did not know it. Even hadhe known what would happen, he would have done the same, for he was oneof those who follow the golden rule, "Do right, whatever you think maycome of it, and leave that to be settled by God. "

The first thing done with the fleece, when off the sheep's back, was toclean it on the folding table, which was a framework through which thedirt fell. After that it was put into the press and packed tightly intolarge bales fit for sending on board the ship which was to carry it toEngland. As soon as all the wool was done up into bales, it was packedon the drays to be sent off to the port to be shipped. Each draycarried about twenty bales, and was drawn by ten stout oxen. The drayswere low, like those of brewers, had no sides, but upright pins to keepin the bales, those at the corners being of iron. The bales weresecured by ropes, with a tarpaulin to be thrown over them in case ofwet. Dick Boyce and Tom Wells had to set off again at once. Sam wantedvery much to go with them. He had a fancy for the life they led, asmany a boy would have, but his father could not spare him. Theytravelled about fifteen miles each day, and carried everything theywanted on the road. At night, tarpaulins were let down at the sides andends of the dray. This formed as much shelter as they required whensleeping. The bullocks were turned loose to pick up their food; andwhile Boyce went to bring them in, Wells lighted the fire, cooked theirbreakfast, and made the dray ready for starting. From stations far upthe country, drays are two months and more on the journey to the sea. The chief drawback to this life is, that people long accustomed to it donot take readily to any other, and this made Joseph not wish that Samshould follow it. 

STORY FIVE, CHAPTER 2. 

Joseph Rudge and his family had for some time been living in the newhut, about twenty miles from the head station. He had plenty of hardwork too; for Mr Ramsay owned cattle as well as sheep, and he hadagreed to take charge of a herd, as well as his flock, with the help ofhis sons and a mate who had been sent with him. Labour was very scarcejust then; indeed, it often is in Australia, and a few hands wereobliged to do the work of many. News had just before come to thestation that gold had been found in several places, and that a pocketfull could be had by digging a little, and oftentimes by looking for itamong the rocks. Many people going off to the gold diggings had askedhim to go with them. 

"No, " he answered, "I came out here to look after sheep and oxen, and Iunderstand that work, I have a good master and fair wages, and I'll notdesert my master, or change my work. "

"Right, Jos, " said Mat Clark, his mate; "I never knew any good come toany one by doing wrong, and we should be doing wrong if we were to leaveMr Ramsay to take care of his sheep and cattle all by himself. It'snot the way we should like to be served. "

Mat had come out to the colony very many years before; how he neversaid. He was now an old man. Some people called him Silly Mat. Heused to answer, "May be I'm silly enough to try and do what is right, and to be sorry for having done what was wrong. I hope to be silly inthis wise to the end of my days. "

Joseph and his family lived a somewhat solitary life, but as they hadplenty to do, they did not mind that for themselves, only they knew itwas bad for the children to get no education, and they could never visitany place of worship. For weeks together they saw no one except Mat andthe keeper of another station about seven miles off, known as TonyPeach. Tony was not a man they liked at all, though they could notexactly tell why. He would put on very soft manners though, and seemedto have taken a great fancy to Joseph and his family. He had lost anarm as a soldier, he said, and he could not manage a spade or pick, orhe owned that he would have been off to the diggings. He grumbled muchindeed, at not being able to go, for if there was one thing he loved onearth, it was money, and he thought that it would be very pleasant todig up gold as people do potatoes. He thought, however, that he hadfound out a way of growing rich without much trouble. 

Joseph had just come in one afternoon with his flock and folded them, itwas then Sam's duty to watch them for the night. For this he had a sortof box on legs, with a hole in the side, into which he could creep andsleep comfortably. The dogs were fastened up at different points roundthe fold, that should a dingo, or native dog, a sort of fox, come near, their barking might at once arouse him. Joseph was just sitting down tohis supper of a dish of stewed mutton and damper, that is wheatenunleavened bread, baked under the ashes, washed down by a few cups ofgood tea, when Tony Peach rode up. A fresh damper and a bowl of tea wasplaced before him. He talked on general matters for some time, and hethen spoke of what he called the rights of servants. After a littletime he began to speak about a plan by which, if Joseph would join him, they should make a good thing, and no one be the worse or the wiser. Tony proposed forming a herd of cattle of their own in a back run. Theywere to put a brand on the animals of J. B. , and John Butt was to standas the owner. 

"That is to say, you want _me_ to join you in robbing our good master, "said Joseph, fixing his eyes on Tony. 

"Call it what you like, " answered Tony, "a few beasts out of the herdwon't be missed every now and then, and we shall get them. "

"No, I'll have nothing to do with the matter, " said Joseph stoutly, "it's robbery, call it what you will; and what is more, Peach, if Ithought that you were about such a thing, I'd let Mr Ramsay know, as itwould be my duty to do. I warn you. "

Peach was very angry, for he had already begun the business, and wanteda mate to help him. He tried to hide his anger, though he made up hismind to be revenged. 

"Well, mate, don't say anything about it. If you don't think it shouldbe, we'll let it alone, and no harm will have been done. "

Joseph was not satisfied. He made up his mind to keep a good look-outon the cattle under his charge. 

After Peach was gone, he went in to ask old Mat what he thought aboutthe man. 

"What has he been saying to you?" asked Mat, looking up from his bed, for he had already turned in. "No good, I'll warrant. "

Joseph told him. 

"That's just what he said to me some time back; but he found that hewould gain nothing, so he's let me alone since. "

Joseph said that he hoped he would gain nothing from him either. 

"Never let him gain an inch, mate, or he'll soon gain an ell, " said oldMat. "He is doing Satan's work, and that's what Satan is always tryingto do--trying to make us do a little wrong--just to get in the sharpedge of the wedge; he knows that he shall soon be able to drive ithome. "

This talk with old Mat, made Joseph still more determined to havenothing to do with Peach, however friendly he might seem. Joseph wasglad to think that Mr Ramsay had settled to muster his stock in a fewdays, because he should know then better how many he had under hischarge, and put a stop to Peach's tricks. 

Mr Ramsay and several companions arrived at the station the nightbefore, all well mounted, for the work they had to do required goodhorses. Among them was a Mr Harlow, who owned the next run, and livedabout fifteen miles off. He was unmarried, and had two sisters and anold lady, their aunt, living with them. They were very kind people, Joseph heard. Sam, and even Bobby, his second boy had now become verygood horsemen, and would gallop after and bring back stray cattle aswell as many men. Still their mother had not yet quite got over thefear she had of seeing them, especially Bobby, gallop off into the wildcountry, on the backs of high horses, all by themselves. 

At break of day, a dozen or more horsemen started off, dividing, so asto get round the pasture. Each had a stock-whip in his hand: the handleis but a foot long, but the lash is about fifteen. A loud crackingsound can be made with it, and its lash strikes through the thickestskin. The cattle, when roused, as is usual, made for the low ground, where Joseph and his sons, with one or two other men, were ready tocollect them. They, however, were very wild, as they will soon get whenthere are not enough men to look after them. Now a dozen cows wouldstart away, and had to be headed and driven back; now an active youngbull would make a rush, and caused no little trouble before he was madeto turn. The animals seemed to know that something was to be done withthem, and made up their minds to escape it. 

At last a large part of the herd were brought together, and Mr Ramsayordered them to be headed off towards the stock-yard, but no sooner didthey begin to move than away a dozen or more would go at a time. It washard work to bring even part of them back. At last, by hard riding anduse of the whip, about two-thirds were collected in the yard. But soactive were some of the young beasts that even the high fences could notkeep them in, and several sprang over them in a way not many horseswould have done. It took some time to brand the young beasts, and tocount and sort the whole herd. As soon as this was done, Mr Ramsay andhis friends and servants started off, on a fine moonlight night, in thehopes of driving in the remainder of the herd; for this purpose theytook with them a few tame cattle that the wild ones might join company, and the whole be induced to go back together. Before long the lowing ofthe decoy-herd was answered from the distant forest, and as theyproceeded on, numbers joined them, their large bodies seen amid thetrees, and their huge horns glancing in the moonbeams. Orders had beengiven that not a whip should be cracked, not a word spoken. They hadgot on some way very well, and many wild animals had joined their ranks, when Joseph observed Tony Peach riding near him. Soon afterwards therewas heard the crack of a whip, and a number of animals started off. MrRamsay, Mr Harlow, and others did their best to stop them, riding hereand there and turning them quickly. Joseph kept his eye on Peach, andobserved that whenever he could, without being, as he thought, noticed, he let the beasts gallop off. A good many had escaped in this way, whenJoseph determined to try and stop the next that should make the attempt. A large bull was turning off, when Joseph rode to head the animal. Suddenly the beast turned on him. At that moment his horse, putting hisfore feet into a hole, fell and rolled over with him. The bull came on. Peach, instead of coming to help him, with a loud laugh rode off, pretending to go after other cattle. Joseph, as he well might, shoutedat the top of his voice. Just as the bull was close to him Mr Ramsay, in chase of another beast, passed by. Seeing what had happened, heplaced himself before the bull and twined the lash of his whip round itshorns. The horse stood stock still, with its fore legs out ready tospring aside, should it be necessary to avoid the bull or to stop thelatter in its course. The bull, finding a sudden pull at its head, ofcourse turned towards Mr Ramsay, who, untwisting his lash, gallopedround and gave it such a cut on the flank as made it turn back once moretowards the herd. This gave Joseph time to remount his horse, and hewas soon lashing away at the animals as before. He was much disposed totell Mr Ramsay what he had observed; but then he thought it was noteasy to prove. "It may be thought that I want to curry favour. Still, if I find out more things certain against this man, it will be my dutyto inform the master. "

Mr Ramsay was very much vexed at not getting more of the cattle in. Hedid not blame Joseph, for he knew that it was not his fault, that Peachhad long been in charge of them and ought to have kept them in betterorder. Of course Peach excused himself, and said that the cattle werealways wild, and that it was no fault of his. Joseph began to wish thathe had had nothing to do with cattle, but had stuck to his sheep. Hehad certainly much hard work, for he had to be in the saddle early inthe morning and to keep in it most of the day. Sam, though, liked itvery much. Bob had now taken Sam's place and helped Mat in taking careof the sheep. 

One day old Mat came to Joseph and begged him to look at the sheep. Hewas afraid something was the matter with some of them. Joseph examinednarrowly all those which Mat thought were sick. There was no doubt thatthey had the distemper. It had not spread far yet. A stop must be putto it. He at once sent off Ben on horseback to acquaint Mr Ramsay, andto bring back tobacco and other stuff for making washes. Meantime heseparated the diseased animals from the rest, which he told Mat to driveto a fresh part of the run where they had not been for some time. Hewarned him on no account to go near any other flock. Meantime he roderound to the nearest hut to advise the shepherds to look to their sheep, to see if the distemper had showed itself among them, that they mighttake steps to stop it. At one of the stations he met Peach. It was onelike his own, with three men, one of them having charge of a back runwith cattle. Peach was not very friendly. "I should think Ned Markshere would know as soon as a fresh hand whether or not his sheep had thedistemper, " he remarked with a sneer. "Some people, however, are fondof busying themselves about what doesn't concern them; but I've just tosay that they may go too far some day and find that others won't standit. "

Joseph made no answer, he was resolved to do his duty, whatever came ofit. 

"Never mind him; I'm not offended, " said Marks, giving a wink to Peach, which he fancied Joseph did not observe. "Here, Rudge, to show thatthere is no ill-will between us, do you take a glass of this good rum. I got a few bottles the last time I was down at the store. There arenot many left. "

"No thank you, mate, " answered Joseph. "I made up my mind when I cameout to this country never to touch liquor, and I find not only that Ican get on without it, but that I am much the better without it. I usedto take it in England, and I am ashamed to say how much of my wages wentin drink. I wish to be friendly with you, Marks, but I shouldn't showmy good feeling by drinking your rum. "

"As you like, " said Marks. "It isn't often you have such a chance inthe bush. However, it's liberty hall, and no man is forced to do whathe doesn't like. "

Peach now seemed to take a hint from Marks, and pretended once more tobe friendly with Joseph. "I don't bear malice, Rudge, " he said, holdingout his hand. "May be one of these days you'll see things in adifferent way, and understand that I wanted only to do you a good turn. "

"I hope not, " answered Joseph, going towards the door. "I think Iunderstand you pretty clearly; and I pray that I may never be brought tocall black white. "

"A canting hypocrite!" exclaimed Peach, as Joseph rode off. 

Joseph offered up a silent prayer, "Lead us not into temptation. "

As the stockman rode on he saw by the look of the sky that one of thosefierce storms which occasionally visit parts of Australia, wasthreatening. He had reached his farthest point from home. The countrywas wild. There was no regular road, only a track which it requiredsharp eyes to find out in some places. He pushed on, hoping to get homebefore the storm broke. Presently, however, loud peals of thunder burstfrom the sky; the lightning darted along the ground and among the treeswith a crackling noise, which made his horse start from side to side. Down came the rain like a water-spout, and the wind sprung up and blewin fierce gusts, tearing off huge branches of the trees, and now andthen uprooting the trees themselves. Joseph saw that it would bedangerous to take shelter under any of the trees, so he kept as much ashe could in the open ground. 

He had not gone far when he heard a cry. It was from somefellow-creature, he was certain of that. He looked about on every side, and at last saw that a falling tree had struck down a black man, who laybeneath it unable to move. 

Joseph fastening his horse to a stump, ran towards the poor fellow. Hewas alive, and his body seemed uninjured, but his foot had been caughtby the trunk and held him fast. Had he been alone he must have died ahorrible death, for it was clear that he could not have releasedhimself. The black fellow saw Joseph coming, and made signs to show hisgratitude, uttering a few words of broken English. When, however, Joseph came to look at the tree, he found that it would be no easymatter to get the poor black from under it. He had an axe in his belt, and with it he cut down a young sapling for a handspike, but when hetried it he found that he could not lift the heavy trunk. Then he setto work to dig under the foot, but the ground was as hard as a rock. 

The black then made signs that he might drive something under it, and solift the tree. 

"He means wedges, " thought Joseph, and at once lopping off a thickbranch, shaped out several; the black, in spite of the pain he wassuffering, watching him with evident satisfaction. With a thick club, which served as a hammer, Joseph drove in the wedges, and in time gotthe tree lifted enough to draw out the black's leg. He then carried thepoor fellow to a bank and examined his foot. It had been caught in aslight hollow, and was not as much hurt as might have been expected. Aswell as he could with the handkerchief off his neck, he bound up theinjured limb, and then placed him on his horse. 

"I shall be late at home, but I cannot let this poor black lie out herein the woods by himself, " he thought; "it is my duty to take him to myhut and tend him till he is well. The black must have been suffering agreat deal of pain, but he bore it bravely. "

"What is your name?" he asked, as he walked by his side. 

"Troloo, good white man, " answered the black, "Troloo lub white man. "

It was pleasant to Joseph to think that the young black was grateful. For some time the storm continued, but Joseph with his injuredcompanion, pushed on through it. On his way out he had crossed a smallcreek with the water not much above his horse's fetlocks. As he drewnear the spot he saw that instead of the quiet blue pool, where therehad been no current, there was now a foaming and roaring torrent, itsmuddy waters carrying down numerous roots and branches of trees. Stillhe thought that there could be no difficulty in crossing at that spot, and was leading the horse in, when Troloo made signs that there was muchdanger in so doing, and pointed higher up the creek, trying to show thatthey might there cross with greater safety. Joseph, like a wise man, therefore turned back. On calculating the depth of the water by theheight of the bank, he judged that it was up to his arm pits, and thathad he stepped into any hole, he might have sunk with his head underalso. 

"Ah, if it had not been for the black, I might have tried to cross, andhave lost my life, " he thought. 

After going up the creek some way, the black pointed to a spot where theground was very smooth and hard on either side. 

"Dere, dere, cross now, " he said, and made signs to Joseph to get up onthe horse. 

"No, friend, a wetting won't do me any harm, and if the horse was tostumble, with two on his back, it might be a bad job for you. "

Joseph walked into the stream boldly, leading the horse. The water roseup to his knees, then to his thighs. He kept his eyes up the stream onthe watch for any branches or trunks of trees which might be floatingdown. Now by stopping, now by pushing on fast, he was able to avoidseveral, others he turned aside. For some time the water was up to hismiddle. The black pointed across the creek, and made signs that therewas nothing to fear. At last he reached the opposite bank. Scarcelyhad he got out of the torrent, than the rain came down still harder thanbefore; the wind blew furiously, tearing off branches from the brittlewood trees and sending them flying along before it. The thunder roaredand rattled with long continued peals from the sky, and the lightningflashed more brightly than ever, darting, it seemed, from cloud tocloud, and then went hissing along the ground like a number of fieryserpents. The horse started and trembled, now sprang to one side, nowto the other, so that Joseph could scarcely keep the black man fromfalling off. Still, like a true Briton, he pushed on. There was no uselooking for shelter, none was to be found nearer than his own hut. Suddenly a flash darted from a cloud just overhead, and seemed to strikethe ground directly in front of Joseph. A moment before he had seenclearly. He made a few steps forward expecting again to see his way, but the bright light alone was in his eyes; nothing could he see. Herubbed his hand over his face. 

"Oh, I am blind, " he cried out in his grief. 

It was some time before the black could understand what had happened. He uttered some expressions showing his sorrow, in his own tongue. "Come, no fear, black fellow show way, " he said at last, taking Joseph'shand. Thus they journeyed on, Joseph holding on to the horse, andTroloo guiding it. 

The storm seemed to have spent its fury. After this the rain ceased, the thunder no longer rattled in the sky, nor did the lightning flash, and the clouds passed away. Joseph had no difficulty in knowing this. He was, however, not at all certain that Troloo was leading him towardshis hut. This made him anxious, because, though he could not be veryfar wrong, it would delay his arrival at home. He tried to talk withthe black man, but they could not make out what each other said, so theybecame silent. On and on they went. 

In the morning he had galloped quickly over the ground; now, he wascreeping along, each moment expecting to fall. Suddenly his dog Trustystarted off and gave a cheerful bark, which was answered by Toby, Sam'sdog, and by old Mat's dogs, all of which came running out, and he feltthem licking his hands. He cried out, "Any one at home?" Presently heheard his wife's voice, and Bobby's and the rest of the children. 

"Why, Joseph, what is the matter?" exclaimed poor Sarah, running up toher husband. 

"Why wife, I've a cross to bear, I fancy, " answered Joseph, takingSarah's hand which she put out; "God knows what's best. If I am toremain blind, He has some reason for it. But here is this poor blackfellow, his foot is terribly hurt, and he is in great pain; look afterhim, I can wait, or I'll bathe my eyes in warm water, I can do nothingelse. "

With an aching heart, Sarah placed her husband in a chair, and thenhelped the black off the horse, and with the aid of Bobby and Mat, whocame up, carried him into the hut, and placed him on Sam's bed. Shethen bathed his foot and bound it up in a wet cloth, and then gave himsome food. Troloo was evidently grateful, and took every means to showit. Night came, but Joseph still remained totally blind. 

STORY FIVE, CHAPTER 3. 

When the next morning broke, Joseph found himself as blind as before. It was a sad trial to him. "So many things to be done, and I not ableto work, " sighed Joseph. 

"The boys and I and Sally will do our best, and may be, in a day or twoyou will be able to see, " answered Sarah. "You've often said, `God'swill be done;' we must say it now, husband. "

"Yes, Sarah, yes, I do say it. And how is the poor black fellow?" askedJoseph. 

"His foot seems terribly bad. I wish there was a doctor to look to it, or I am afraid that he will never walk again; I've kept on bathing it, and he bears the pain wonderfully. "

Early in the day, Sam returned with the tobacco and other stuff forwashes, and he and old Mat set to work to mix them, and to wash thediseased sheep. While they were at work, a horseman was seen drawingnear to the station, but not from the direction the master would come. It proved to be young Mr Harlow. He had heard of the distemper havingbroken out among his neighbour's sheep, and wished to know what was tobe done to prevent its spreading. 

On learning of the accident which had happened to Rudge, he went in tosee him. "I have studied as a surgeon, and may, I hope, be of use toyou, " he said. "From what I see, I have great hopes that you will soonrecover with the help of remedies I will apply. "

Joseph thanked him, and begged that he would look at Troloo's foot. 

"This is a more difficult case, but the natives' hurts heal so rapidly, that I have little doubt that he also will soon be well, " he observed. 

It is not necessary to describe the means he employed. He rode overevery day, though his time was of great value, and in the course of afew days, Joseph declared that he could once more see light and peoplemoving about. Troloo's foot was also nearly well. "A white man's wouldhave taken twice the time, " Mr Harlow observed. 

Troloo, however, showed no desire to go away; "Black fellow lub Jo, workfor Jo, " he said. 

Of course Rudge was very glad to get his assistance, though he knew thathe could not depend long on him, and that any moment he might set offagain by himself. He could help with the sheep, but cattle have such adislike to black men that they will not let one come near them. 

When Mr Ramsay arrived, he highly approved of all Rudge had done, andwas much concerned to hear of his blindness, though Mr Harlow assuredhim that he would soon recover his sight, as he shortly did. Joseph andhis wife were very grateful to Mr Harlow. 

"Do not thank me, I am but making a right use of the talents God hasgiven me, " he answered. 

He brought with him a number of small books and tracts, and told Josephthat he should be glad to have them lent to all the neighbouringshepherds and stockmen. "We will also meet together for prayer andreading God's word, when next I come over, " he said. 

This was done; and not only old Mat but several other shepherds andhut-keepers came to Joseph's hut which he had prepared for them. Thiswas the beginning of a Church in the wilderness, for after this, MrHarlow often came to the station, and the Miss Harlows rode over andbrought books and pictures for the children and work for Sally, andstopped to show her how to do it, and also to teach the children toread. 

Joseph and Sarah were very grateful. They had long felt that thoughthey were getting good wages and saving money, it was a sad thing not tohave their children taught nor be able to go to a place of worship. "Sam is not so bad a scholar, and Bobby and Sally read pretty well, butNancy and Bill and Mary will have little chance of getting anylearning, " said Joseph to Mr Harlow. "If we could have a mastersometimes, it would help us; and then when there is less work to bedone, the elder children can help the younger; but generally they comehome so tired that all they can do is to take their suppers and go tobed. "

Mr Harlow promised that he would talk the matter over with Mr Ramsay, and see what could be done for the children on his and the neighbouringruns. In the meantime, he left some small books and tracts, which couldbe carried in the pocket and read at spare moments. 

It was a joyful day to Joseph Rudge and to his wife and children when hewas able to say that he could see as well as ever. They did not forgetto thank God who had been thus kind to them. 

"It would have been terrible if you had been struck blind all alone inthe forest, " said Sarah, "I have often thought of that, and what a mercyit was that you found the black. "

"Yes indeed, wife, " answered Joseph, "I might have been drowned, too, ifI had tried to cross the creek by myself. One thing I know, and I oftenthought of it while I was without sight, that God orders all things forour good, though we do not always see the why and the wherefore thingsare done. "

It took a long time before the sheep were quite cured of the distemperand the flocks were allowed to mingle as before. 

Sam and Bob and old Mat had worked very hard, but they could not havegot on alone, if Tom Wells had not been sent to help them. Tom was afirst-rate rider, and a fair stockman, so he was sent to look after thecattle. He was lodged in old Mat's house. He had been thus employedonly a day or two, when Peach managed to meet him. 

"Stock keeping better than bullock driving, lad, eh?" were the firstwords Peach uttered. 

"I should think so, mate, " said Tom. 

"More profit to be made of it, " observed Peach. 

"Wages is wages, " observed Tom. "If I agree for so much, I take it, andmust be content; if I take more than that, it's robbery to my mind, andwith that I've no business. "

"Oh those are Rudge's notions, he's been putting you up to that sort ofstuff, " remarked Peach, with a look of contempt; and then he muttered, "But I'll be even with him and you too. "

"They are the notions of all decently honest men, " said Wells, turningaway from the tempter. 

Peach was not a man to give up a plan he had once formed. As he couldnot get the help of Rudge and Wells, he tried other means to getpossession of his master's cattle. He had always made friends, as faras he could, with the blacks, a tribe of whom often pitched their tentsnear his hut. He was a sober man, and did not mind parting with hisrum. All sober men are not good men, though drunkenness rarely fails tolead to crime and punishment. He had looked out for the blacks, and hadtold them that they must help him to get the cattle. They had managedfrom time to time to drive off a few calves. 

As has been said, cattle have a fear of blacks, and, scenting them at along distance, scamper off as soon as they draw near. 

Thus Peach could not get much help from his friends. He now set offagain on horseback to pay them a visit; for they were camped some milesaway. He took care to go provided with presents, a few colouredhandkerchiefs and knives, and a few other things. 

On his way, his horse put his foot into a hole, and fell. Peach wasthrown over his head. He was not much hurt, so he got up, and catchinghis horse, mounted again. 

"Now I am on you I will pay you off, you brute, " he exclaimed, thrashingthe poor animal with his heavy whip. The horse dashed on for some way, then stopped short. He was dead lame. In vain Peach tried to make himmove. To return would have taken longer than to go on; so dismounting, he led on the animal, hoping to reach the blacks' camp beforenight-fall. He went on and on, and it grew darker and darker, till hethought that he should have to camp out. He had no fancy to do that byhimself. There were no wild beasts in the country to fear, and he wouldhave told any one who asked him, that he did not believe in ghosts andspirits and such-like gentry; still there was something he did not likewhen he was all alone in the dark woods at night. His conscience wasnot at ease. There were strange sounds and sights he could not makeout. He had no almighty Friend to whom he could offer up a prayer forprotection; no wonder that he was a coward. He still went on, though hecould hardly find the way; when on a sudden he stopped, and as he leanedforward, staring with wide open eyes and hair on end, he saw a blazingfire in the midst of an open glade, and on the farther side a hideousband of skeleton forms dancing and twisting and turning in all sorts ofways. Now, after leaping about furiously for a moment, they would on asudden disappear, and not one was to be seen. 

For a minute or more all was quiet, and Peach hoped that he had seen thelast of them; when like a flash they all came back and jumped about asbefore. He stood trembling with fear, he would have run away if hecould, but where was he to run to?

This fearful show went on for some time, when the most fearful shrieksand yells were heard. 

"Why I do believe it's the black fellows dancing a corroborree, " hemuttered to himself. "What a fool I was! Now they yell! I make outtheir voices. "

Leading his horse, which was more frightened at the shrieks than he hadbeen by the sight of the skeletons, he walked into the middle of a groupof blacks. He now saw by the light of the fire, which was made to blazeup brightly, that on the front of each of the men a skeleton was paintedwith white chalk. These were seen when the light of the fire fell onthem, but when they turned round and only their black backs were towardsthe fire, they seemed to have gone away altogether. He knew that itwould not do to show the anger he felt at the fright they had given him. He stood quiet, therefore, with some of the old men looking on till thedance was over. He was known to most of the natives, who welcomed himin the odd jargon in which the white settlers and blacks talk to eachother. 

"He would tell them by-and-by what he had come to see them about, and inthe meantime he had some presents to make, " he said. 

The delight of the savages at getting the handkerchiefs and knives wasvery great. He told them that there were more for them if they would dowhat he wished. He then called some of the elders round him, and toldthem what he advised them to do. He told them that he was the blackfellows' friend, as they had proof, but that the other white men inthose parts were their enemies, and that they should drive them away ifthey could, or kill them, and that then, they might have all their sheepand cattle for themselves. The poor savages seemed to understand thissort of reasoning, and promised to do as he advised. He sat up till alate hour talking with them. The whole party then lay down in the"gunyio, " or camp, with a few boughs or sheets of bark over their headsas their only covering, though most of them had bright fires burning attheir feet outside. It was some time before Peach's busy brain wouldlet him go to sleep. At last he went off, and began to snore. Not longafter, a black might have been seen passing close to him. "Oh you onewhite villain!" he exclaimed, shaking his head at him, "you call blackman savage, you ten times worse; but black fellow teach you that you nomore clever than he. "

Saying this, the black disappeared among the trees around. 

STORY FIVE, CHAPTER 4. 

A short time before this, Troloo, who had learned to be very useful withthe sheep, had gone off without giving any warning. It was the way ofblack fellows, so Joseph could not complain, though he was very sorry tolose him, especially when there was so much work to be done. 

Joseph did not let any of his family be idle. They had learned to makeand to do all sorts of things. They made all their candles and soap. They spun wool when their fingers had nothing else to do, and thenknitted it into socks and waistcoats. The boys could knit, and whenthey were out shepherding, they had plenty of time to make all the socksthey could wear. The younger ones, among other things, learned to makebaskets out of long reeds, which they gathered near the creek. One day, when they had used up all their reeds, Nancy, with little Bill and Mary, set out to gather a fresh stock. When they got down to the edge of thecreek they saw some long reeds growing on the other side. "See, see, how fine and tall they are, Nancy; we must go over and get them, " criedlittle Bill. "I know a place higher up where we can cross easily. "

Nancy saw no harm in doing as Bill said, for they could get no reeds onthat side. They went on and on, and still they did not get to the placehe spoke of. "It can only be a little farther; come on, Nancy, " hecried out, running on with Mary. Nancy followed. "Here it is, " hesaid, at last, and they began to cross. The water deepened. "No fear;do you, Nancy, lift up Mary, and I can get across easily enough, " saidBill. They all got safe over. The creek twisted a good deal, and Billthought, and Nancy thought also, that they would make a short cut acrossthe country from the place where they then were to that where the rushesgrew. A hill rose up close to the creek, and they were certain that ifthey went round it they should find the water on the other side. Thesky was covered with clouds and the sun was not to be seen, so thatthere were no shadows to guide them. They walked on and on, thinkingeach moment that they should reach the river. Little Bill was sure thatthey could not have made a mistake, and ran on before his sistersshouting out, "Come on, Nancy; come on, Mary. " The girls followed asfast as they could, but there were no signs of the creek. They began tobe puzzled. Nancy fancied that Bill must have made a mistake. "No, no;it's farther off than I thought, that's all, " said Bill. "We shan'tfind it by standing still. "

Bill was a sturdy little chap, though so young. "Mary bery, berytired, " cried the youngest girl. She couldn't speak plain, she was soyoung. 

"Well, sit down, little one, and rest, and we'll see what we've got foryou, " said Bill, in an encouraging tone--he dearly loved little Mary. He searched in his pockets and brought out some cold damper and cheese, and some biscuit and raisins, and several other articles. The childrenall sat down and feasted off the food. It revived them. 

"We must get on now, " said Nancy, rising. "O Bill, where can we havegot to?"

"All right, " answered Bill, "we shall find the water in ten minutes;only we must keep moving. " They went on again for ten minutes, twenty, thirty, an hour or more. Bill at last began to cry and wring his hands. "Oh dear, oh dear, we have lost our way!"

"I was afraid so, long ago, " said Nancy. "All we've to do is to try andfind it. "

That was more easily said than done. Nancy felt very anxious, but shekept her thoughts to herself, for fear of frightening Bill and Mary. 

Bill had kept up bravely till now, but little Mary already looked verytired. Nancy took her hand and led her on. Bill then took her up onhis back, but he had not gone far when he had to ask her if she was notrested. His legs and back ached; he put her down. She could run on alittle way she thought. She soon, however, again said she was tired, and Nancy took her up; but poor Nancy could not carry her far, for Marywas a fat, heavy child. Where they had got to, Nancy could not tell. Time went by, too, faster than they thought. It got dusk, and therewere no signs of the creek. Night was coming on. 

"We cannot go farther in the dark, " said Nancy. 

"No; I must make a `gunyio' for you and Mary, " said Bill, who had triedhard to keep up his courage. 

He cut down some boughs, and Nancy and Mary collected some long, drygrass, and they built a rude hut, like those the natives use, and made abed. They then all crept in. They had no fear about being in theforest by themselves at night, only they wished that they were at home, as they knew their father and mother would be frightened. There were nowild beasts to hurt them, and Joseph Rudge had taken care that hischildren should have no foolish notions about ghosts and spirits. 

"If such things come on earth it's only because God lets them, and Hewould not let them come in shapes to frighten people, especially littlechildren and those He loves, " he used to say to them. 

The three children knelt down and said their prayers; then, withoutfear, they crept into the hut, and were soon asleep. 

When Joseph and Tom Wells came back from looking after the cattle, thechildren had not returned. Still Sarah thought that they would comeevery minute, and was looking out for them. Joseph was very tired. 

"You stay quiet, mate, " said Tom, "I will go and look out for the youngones; I shall find them fast enough. "

Tom rode off, and not long after Sam and Ben came in with old Mat fromherding the sheep. The lads were very eager to set off to look fortheir little brother and sisters. Taking a sup of tea and a piece ofdamper in their hands, away they went. Mat promised to herd the sheeptill they came back. Joseph and Sarah all this time were very anxiousfor their little ones. Still she got the supper ready, hoping to havethem brought back safe to her. There were several good things--adamper, a dish of stewed mutton, and a parrot pie, made with the birdswhich Tom Wells had shot that morning and brought to her. Parrots inthat country are as common as pigeons in England, and are generallycooked in pies. 

It was quite dark when Sam and Ben came back. They had found no tracesof the children. Tom came in some time after. Not a sign of thechildren. 

"God's will be done!" said Joseph. 

"Oh we shall find them to-morrow, mate, never fear, " said Tom Wells. 

The party eat their supper with sad hearts, but not in silence, for theytalked over and over what could have become of the children. They couldmake no further search that night. Tom went to his hut, promising to beready to start again at break of day. Ben went out to look after hissheep at night. That must not be neglected. 

Sarah was up long before daybreak to get the breakfast ready. Often andoften she went to the door of the hut, hoping to hear her young onesvoices returning home. Joseph mounted his horse, and went off in onedirection, Tom in another, and Sam in another. They were to return atnoon. Old Mat and Ben had to look after the sheep. Poor Sarah andSally worked away in and about the hut as hard as possible, but theycould not help thinking and talking about the dear little ones, and whathad become of them. Some time had passed, when Sally cried out that sheheard voices, and, running out, she saw three people on horsebackcantering up to the hut. They were Mr Harlow and his two sisters. They had come over about the school. They were very sorry to hear thatthe children were missing. Mr Harlow said that he would go off at onceto look for them. He had given his horse a handful of grain, and wasjust starting, when a black came running up at full speed towards thehut. Sally, who first saw him, said she was quite sure it was Troloo;so he was. He reached the door of the hut out of breath. 

"Oh, Missie Rudge, black fellow come, kill you piccaninnies, sheep, oldMat, all, all, " he cried out as soon as he could speak. What he saidwas enough to frighten Sarah. 

"Then the blacks must have found our poor, dear children, and they havekilled them, " she said, and burst into tears. 

"No, black fellow find piccaninnies, " said Troloo, looking up from theground on which he had thrown himself. 

Mr Harlow, who had dismounted from his horse, cross-questioned theblack as to the report he had brought. As far as he could make out, alarge party of natives were on their way to the hut, with the purpose ofburning it, and killing all the family. Still he thought that theywould not dare to do what they threatened, and tried to persuade poorMrs Rudge not to be frightened. 

"If it was not for the dear children I wouldn't be frightened; but whatI fear is that the cruel black fellows have got hold of them, and willdo them a harm. "

Mr Harlow had now to consider what was best to be done. He wishedfirst to place his sisters in safety, and then to fortify the hut, sothat when the natives arrived they might find all things prepared forthem. He could do little, however, till Joseph, and Bob, and Tom Wellsreturned, He learned from Sarah where Mat and Sam were to be found. Hebegged his sisters who were well accustomed to find their way across thecountry, to ride home and to send three of their men, well armed, tohelp drive away the blacks, while he went to warn Mat and Sam, and toget them to come home. Meantime Sarah got ready some food for poorTroloo. Every now and then she went to the door, or sent Sally to seeif Joseph or Tom were coming with the children. 

At last noon came, and soon after Tom appeared, but he had found notraces of the lost ones. The poor mother's heart sank within her. Tomrather laughed at the notion of the blacks daring to attack the station, and said that they would get more than they expected if they came. MrHarlow and Mat and Bob now arrived, and Sam also returned. He was verydowncast at not having found his little brother and sisters. 

"Now lads, the best thing you can do is to gallop off to Mr Ramsay, toget his help, " said Mr Harlow to Sam and Bob. "It is better to be toostrong than too weak; and I hope that the blacks, when they find that weare ready for them, will take themselves off again. "

The lads went off as hard as they could go, Sam catching a fresh horsefor the ride. 

Mr Harlow, with Tom and Mat, helped by Sarah and Sally, set to work toprepare for the attack of the natives. They fastened up the windows, just leaving room for the barrels of their rifles to pass through; thenthey got up a number of the stakes from the cattle pens and put up astrong paling in front of each of the doors. This done, they put up astrong paling, or palisade in front of the hut, and began to carry itall round, so that none of the natives could get near enough to fire thehut, without a good chance of being shot. This took some time, and theday was drawing to a close before Joseph himself was seen ridinghomewards. He brought none of his young ones with him. The meetingbetween him and his wife was very sad. All he could say was, "God'swill be done! We will start away to-morrow again, and they cannot havegot far from home. " He was much astonished at the preparations made forthe expected attack of the natives, and thanked Mr Harlow warmly forwhat he had done. 

"Why, Rudge, I could not leave your wife and daughters without you, butnow that you have returned I must set off to look after my sister-kind. I did not half like letting them go alone, " said Mr Harlow. "As theblacks have not appeared as yet, as they never travel at nights, I donot think that they will come till to-morrow, and before that you willhave plenty of assistance. "

The evening came, and the night drew on, and still no natives appeared. Troloo offered to go out and learn if they were near. He thought thatthey might have encamped not far off, so as to attack the station atbreak of day. Once he would have been afraid to move about himself inthe dark, but now he said that as he was going to help white man, whiteman's God would take care of him. Mat had gone to look after the sheep, for it was not safe to leave them alone at night, lest the dingoes (thewild dogs of the country) should get among them. Thus only Joseph andTom Wells remained in the hut with Sarah and Sally. It was a sad timefor them, they thought more about the poor children than themselves. Tom was a kind-hearted fellow, and did his best to keep up theirspirits. 

"As you often say, Joseph, I say to you, trust in God, and all will comeright at last. "

"Very hard, in a case like this, to follow out what one knows to betrue, " answered Rudge. 

"Yes, Joseph; but this is just a case where we have to show our faith. I know that God loves us and that keeps me up, " said Sarah, though hervoice trembled as she spoke. 

All this time her dear little ones might be starving, or dying ofthirst, or have been carried off by the blacks, or have fallen into awater-hole. 

It was near ten at night when Troloo came back. It was some time beforehe could make his friends understand that the black fellows, to thenumber of fifty, or more, were camped at a spot, to reach which, fromthe hut, would take about an hour. They had been having a war dance, hesaid, and that showed that they were about to attack the place. Theywere armed with spears and clubs and boomerangs. The last weapon is amoon-shaped piece of hard-wood. The blacks throw it with great force, and can make it whirl back into their own hands. They can also throwtheir spears to a great distance with good aim. This news made Josephmore than ever anxious for the arrival of Mr Ramsay and Sam and Bob. No one was inclined to go to sleep. Sarah and Sally lay down, but wereup every ten minutes looking out of doors, and listening for sounds. 

Before daybreak Troloo was on foot, and stole out. He was gone sometime; Tom thought that he had taken fright, and run away. Joseph saidthat he was sure he was faithful; so it proved. He came back in half anhour, saying that the blacks were coming on, and would soon be at thestation. Joseph and Tom looked out eagerly in all directions for theirfriends. Even old Mat had not come in. Should they put Sarah and Sallyon horseback, and make their escape?

"The property here was put under my charge, and I cannot leave it, " saidRudge. "As long as I have life I must fight to defend it. "

"But your wife and Sally, " said Tom. "His wife will stay by herhusband, as I hope yours will, Tom Wells, when you get one, " said Sarah. "Then I will stop, " said Tom, looking at Sally. "And I would stay withfather and mother, even if I had the chance of going, " said Sally. 

There were three rifles in the hut; Sarah knew how to load them. Shewas to do so as fast as she could, and Troloo was to hand them to Josephand Tom. They were to fire as quick as possible, so that the blacksmight think that there were many more people in the hut than there were, and so be frightened and go away. All was ready; still no friends hadcome, but as they looked out, a number of black figures were seenstealing out from among the trees. They collected in a large body, andthen came towards the hut flourishing their spears. They stopped whenthey saw no one, and looked cautiously about. Joseph was very anxiousnot to fire, or to hurt any one. 

"To my mind its the white men has often set the bad example to the poorblack fellows, from what I have heard, and I don't want to do the samesort of thing, " he observed. 

It was clear that the natives couldn't make out how things stood. Theystopped, and talked, and looked about. Then some drew near and ran offagain, just as boys run into the water on the sea shore, and out again, fearing some danger. 

"We will pray to be delivered from these poor black fellows, " saidJoseph; "It's what God tells us to do when we are in danger. "

He did as he proposed, and the rest joined him in the prayer. 

Troloo could not make out exactly what his white friends were about. Heexpected to see them begin to fire away and kill his black relations. Still he seemed to think that they deserved to be punished. At last theblacks, seeing no one, came on all together. 

"Now let us shout at the top of our voices, and fire over their heads, "whispered Joseph; "may be they'll take fright and run off. "

The savages drew still nearer, and then Joseph, and Tom, and Sarah, andher daughter, all shouted out, and shrieked at the top of their voices, and the two men at the same moment fired their rifles. The savages, hearing the whistling of the bullets just above their heads, lookedabout astonished, and then ran off as fast as they could run. They didnot go far, however, but, stopping, began to talk to each other, andseeing no one following, took courage. 

"I am afraid that that trick won't answer again, " observed Tom; "thenext time we must rush out upon them, and take one or two of themprisoners. "

"We might as well try to catch eels with our fingers, " answered Joseph. "If they come on again we must, I fear, fight it out. We ought not toleave the shelter of our hut as long as it will hold us. "

"Oh, no, no; let us stay where we are, " said Sarah. 

The blacks, however, did not seem inclined to let them do that. Oncemore they plucked up courage and came on, whirling their spears. 

The rifles were again loaded; still Joseph did not wish to fire at thesavages. The blacks got quite close, and then sent a shower of spears, which came quivering against the posts which were round the hut, severalpiercing its thin walls. Fortunately none came through the openings. 

"We must give it them in earnest next time, " said Tom. 

"Wait a bit, mate; as long as they don't do more than that, they will dous no harm. "

As soon as the natives had thrown their darts, they ran off again, expecting a volley from the rifles; then back they came and threw moreof their spears. As before, a few came partly through the wall, but didno harm, as Sarah and Sally kept on the other side, and the men stoodbehind the stout posts which supported the roof. The blacks came nearerand nearer, sending their spears still farther through the walls. 

"I would do anything rather than kill those poor savages, " said Rudge. 

"But if we don't, they'll kill us, mate, and it won't do to fire overtheir heads again, " observed Tom, raising his rifle, and covering one ofthe black leaders. "I could pick that fellow off if I fired. "

"Let's try what another shout will do, and if that does not put them toflight, we must fire at last, " said Rudge. 

Again they all shouted together, Troloo joining in the cry. The blacks, as before, looked about them, and some, who were about to throw theirspears, stopped with them poised in their hands. Others, however, seemed to be telling them that they were cowards, and at last the wholeparty whirling round their spears more fiercely than before, rushedtowards the hut. Rudge's finger was on the trigger, and so was Tom's, when a faint shout was heard in the distance, like an echo of theirs. It was repeated, and another was heard as if from a different direction. 

"Don't fire, Mat, " cried Rudge; "see, the black fellows are running. Thank God that we have not had to shed man's blood. "

"And let us thank Him that our lives have mercifully been saved, " saidSarah, as they opened the door of the hut, from which not a black was tobe seen. 

In another minute Mr Ramsay and Sam and Bob rode up to the door, andMr Harlow and several men appeared at a little distance. Mr Ramsaywas inclined to follow the blacks, and to kill some of them, but MrHarlow begged that he would not hurt them, as he was sure that they wereset on by some one else, and that at all events they were ignorantsavages, and knew no better. 

STORY FIVE, CHAPTER 5. 

Mr Ramsay praised Rudge and Tom Wells for the way that they had behavedin defending the hut, and old Mat also for having stuck by his sheep, instead of running away. After listening to the account Troloo had togive, he was sure that they had been set on by others. He determinedtherefore to ride on and speak to them with some of his men. 

Mr Harlow was about to offer to accompany him, when Sarah's cry of, "Oh, my children--my children, what are to become of them?" made himturn to her, and promise to set out at once in search of them. 

Joseph wished to go, but his friends would not let him. 

"No, " said Mr Harlow, "you must stay and take care of your wife anddaughter. We will take Sam and Wells, and two of my men, and Troloo. He will be of more help than all the rest of us, I suspect. If theblacks have found them, which I don't think they have, he will get themback; and if they have wandered off into the woods, he will trace themout. "

Troloo at once understood what was required of him, and the two partieswithout delay set out, while Joseph and Sarah remained behind. 

Troloo was the only person on foot, and he went hunting about like apointer ranging a field, looking out for the tracks of the children. Hesoon found them, and quickly ran along the edge of the creek till hecame to the place where they had crossed. He then went on, pointing outto Mr Harlow the hill which they intended to go round. It did not, however, take the turn they had expected, but ran off from the creek, and this it was that had thrown them out. Troloo now led on quicklytill he found the spot where they had slept. He showed how they had gotup in the morning, and how the eldest girl had knelt down just outsidethe hut with the little ones near her, and how they had then set offrunning. Soon the youngest had got tired and gone slower and slower. For several hours they went on, and then the eldest girl lifted up theyoungest and carried her, and then they all sat down. Next, the boy gotup and ran about in all directions and climbed a tree to try and findout the way they should take. He thought that he had found it, for hedid not sit down again, but they all went on together quickly--sometimeshe, and sometimes his sister, carrying the youngest, and sometimes sheran, they holding her hands. All this the black discovered as easily asif it had passed before his eyes, from the look of the grass and shrubs. 

Were they getting nearer? No. All this time they were going fartherand farther from home, and what seemed strange, going upwards towardssome high hills in the distance. This is said to be always the case, when people lose themselves in the woods. If there is high land theyare certain to go towards it. 

They came after some time to a marshy spot where some rushes grew. Thechildren had picked some of these and drank a little water from a poolwhich they had dug with their hands. They had had nothing to eat. Indeed, in few countries does a stranger find it more difficult to existin the woods than in Australia, though the natives can nearly alwaysobtain a meal from roots, or insects, or slugs, or birds, or smallanimals which they trap. At length they reached a spot where Troloosaid that the children had spent their second night out. Bill had begunto build a hut as before, but he had got tired, and they had all sleptclose together with only a few boughs over them. The weather was fine, as it is in that country for the greater part of the year, but it waschilly at night. Again the children had started off by daylight, running at first, but soon growing tired, and sturdy Bill had carriedlittle Mary for a long time on his back. 

Before Mr Harlow's party could reach another of the children's campingplaces, it grew dark, and they were obliged to camp themselves. Therewas no longer much fear of their having fallen into the hands of thesavages. There was much talk that night round the camp-fire about thepoor children, and few of the party expected, after they had been lostso long, to find them alive. 

"One thing is certain, my friends, that we must push on as fast as wecan go, and Troloo can lead us. Without the help of the black we couldnot have found our way at all, and after this let none of us abuse thenatives as stupid fellows. They make good use of the talents theypossess. I wish that we could say the same of all white people. "

So eager was Mr Harlow to push on, that he breakfasted before daybreak, and as soon as Troloo could make out the tracks of the children, theparty moved on. It was wonderful how persevering the little creatureshad been, and how they had held out. On and on they had gone, stoppingto rest only for a short time. Little Mary now was too weak to walkalone. The other two held her up between them or carried her on theirbacks. Troloo had gone on without faltering as yet, but now theyreached some hard, stony ground, and after going backwards and forwardsseveral times he shook his head and said that he could not find thetrack of the children. They must go across it. Perhaps it might befound on the other side. Mr Harlow and his party went across the stonyground, but they looked up and down in vain. All the day was spent, night came on, and still Troloo was unsuccessful. They had again tocamp. 

"We must try again in the morning, " said Mr Harlow, "I will never giveup till I find them. "

"Yes, Troloo find to-morrow, " said the black, "Troloo lub Rudge. "

The rest of the party said also that nothing would make them give in. They scarcely slept, so eager were they to be off, knowing that everyminute might make a difference whether the lives of the children weresaved or not. The instant they could see, after breakfast, they were onthe move, looking in all directions for the tracks. Two hours or morepassed, when Troloo was seen capering in the distance, and beckoningthem to come on. He had found the tracks, and they were very clear. Now they pushed on faster than ever. The little creatures had toiledon, but they had become very weak, still the elder ones had carried theyoungest. Once Bill had fallen, but had got up; Nancy had taken Maryfrom him, and they had gone on. It was near the evening when Troloo, who kept ahead, was seen to move on fast and beckon to the rest. MrHarlow followed him fast. He stopped and pointed to a bank overhung bytrees. There lay the three children. Were they alive? Mr Harlow'sheart sunk within him. He leaped from his horse as he reached the spot, and leaned over the young children. They seemed to be sleeping. 

"Father, are you come for us?" said a low voice. "We couldn't help it, we tried to get home. "

It was Nancy who spoke; she had taken off her own outer petticoat andshawl to wrap up little Mary, who lay asleep in her arms by her side. Bill opened his eyes and said, "Father, " and then closed them again. 

"Thank God they are alive, " exclaimed Mr Harlow, instantly mixing alittle brandy-and-water and pouring it on their lips. Nancy was at onceable to swallow a few drops--so could Bill after a little time. MrHarlow had with forethought put some oranges in his pocket. A few dropshelped little Mary to revive. He wisely fed the children very slowly;at first with only a few crumbs of biscuit at a time moistened withwater. It seemed probable that they would not have lived another hourhad they not been discovered; and certainly, had they been fed as Troloowould have liked to feed them, they would have died immediately. In ashort time Nancy recovered enough to give an account of theiradventures. It was then proved that Troloo had found out as he followedup their track exactly what had happened. 

Mr Harlow now had a litter made on which the three children werecarried towards his house. Having gone some distance, they camped, anda hut was built in which they were placed, and he and Sam and Tom Wellssat up all night by turns watching them and giving them food as theyrequired it. It made Sam's heart leap with joy when little Mary lookedup, and said, "Is dat oo Sam? Tank oo, " and then went off to sleepcalmly. The next day they reached Mr Harlow's station, where the youngladies took them in charge, and soon, under God's blessing, they wererestored to health. 

STORY FIVE, CHAPTER 6. 

Mr Ramsay was joined in his pursuit of the blacks by a party of nativepolice, who are just as ready to take up their countrymen as are thewhites. As the whole party were well mounted, they soon came up withthe runaways. As soon as the blacks saw their pursuers, they set offagain, but were quickly overtaken. Several of them, including two oftheir chief men, were made prisoners. One of the police reported thathe had seen a white man galloping away through the woods--that thestranger was very well mounted, and that he could not overtake him. This confirmed Mr Ramsay's suspicions that the blacks had been set onto attack the station by some white man, though as yet he had no ideawho that person could be. The black prisoners were brought before him, and he examined them by means of the sergeant of the black police. Itwas a long business, for it was not always easy to understand thesergeant himself. However, at length Mr Ramsay came to the conclusionthat the culprit was a stockman or shepherd living in the neighbourhood. 

While the prisoners were carried to the station, Mr Ramsay went roundto call at the huts of the stockmen. The first he reached was that ofPeach. Neither he nor his mate were within. A kettle was on the hearthboiling, and a damper baking below. The provision casks were open, andpork and meal had evidently been taken from them in a hurry. Their gunsand ammunition had also been carried off. There were other signs thatthe occupants of the hut had escaped in a hurry. 

"We need not search farther, " said Mr Ramsay with a sigh. "I thoughtthat Peach was an honest man, but things are much against him atpresent. "

Several of the men now spoke out, and said that they had no doubt thatPeach was a rogue, that they had long thought him one, and that theywere always surprised that the master trusted him. 

"It would have been doing me a service if you had spoken before, " saidMr Ramsay; "I might then have prevented Peach from committing an actfor which he will be transported, if he escapes hanging. "

It is to be hoped that they saw their error. Servants, by not givingwarning of the misdeeds of others, often injure their employers andthemselves, and do harm rather than good to those they wish to serve. 

It was a happy day for Joseph Rudge and his wife when their childrenwere restored to them as strong and well as ever; and truly gratefulwere they to Heaven for the mercy which had been shown them. Rough oldMat shed tears of joy when he took little Mary in his arms. 

"To think that this little tiny creature should have gone on so manydays without eating or drinking, when I have known strong men, who havelost their way, die in less time, " he exclaimed as he kissed her againand again. 

"But God watches over the young and innocent. He watches over us all, mate, and we old ones should know more of His love and care if we couldbut become like the young and pure, " remarked Joseph. "We are told thatwe must become like little children, that is, in our trust in God's loveand our obedience and faith. "

"Ah yes, but that is a hard matter for the old and hardened, " sighedMat. 

"Yes, but it is a blessed thought that God's grace is sufficient foreven such, if they will but seek it, " observed Rudge. 

Nothing very particular happened at the station for some time. Thechildren, as may be supposed, did not wander out by themselves any more. Joseph and the rest of the men, however, had a great deal more to do inconsequence of the flight of Peach and his mate. They also had to helpin getting back the cattle he had carried off. Mr Ramsay was very muchpleased with the way Joseph had acted, and increased his wages by tenpounds a year, while to Sam and Bob he gave five pounds more each. 

After this there was a marked change in Mr Ramsay. He was alwayslooked on as a worthy, upright man, but he had been inclined to standsomewhat aloof from his neighbours, Mr Harlow and his sisters, becausethey were known to be religious. Not a week passed, however, that hedid not pay a visit to Upland, Mr Harlow's station, and sometimes hewent twice a week, and was often seen riding out with the Misses Harlow. It then became known that he had united with Mr Harlow to send for amissionary minister, who would go about among the out-stations andpreach and hold school as best he could. Mr Bolton was his name. Helost no time in coming. His plan was to preach, and then to set lessonsto all the learners, many of them grown-up people, and to help those whorequired it, and then to hear them when next he came that way. When MrBolton came to the head station, Mr Ramsay always attended, and after atime formed a class, and taught himself. It was said that he was goingto marry one of the Miss Harlows. A word spoken in season may do good;and there can be little doubt that the good example set by Joseph Rudgehad a great effect in bringing about an important change in thecharacter of his master. 

While many of those who went to the gold diggings came back as poor asthey started, and with loss of health, Joseph and his family, byremaining at their posts and doing their duty to their employer, prospered, and were well and happy. 

One afternoon Sarah and Sally and Nancy were at work in the hut. Nancywas able now to do almost as much as Sally. Joseph and his boys wereout with the cattle or sheep. Bill was also able to go shepherding. Little Mary was playing in front of the door; she had not learned to domuch yet. Her sisters heard her cry, "Man coming, man coming!" Theylooked out. A man on horseback, with tattered clothes, patched withskins, rode up. His eyes were sunken, his cheeks thin. 

"I want food. Here, girls, bring me some damper, and tea, and mutton, if you have it, a glass of milk and rum. Quick! I am starving, " hesaid in a hollow voice. 

His looks showed that he spoke the truth. 

"Won't you come in and rest?"

"No, no; I'm not to be caught so, " answered the man, looking aboutsuspiciously. "But quick, girl, with the food. "

Sally went in and took him out some damper and a slice of mutton, whileNancy was getting some tea. He ate the food like a starving man andthen tossed off a large basin of tea. When Sarah saw him first from thewindow she thought she knew him. His way of speaking made her sure. 

"Now girls, just bring me out your father's powder-flask and shot belt, and any canister of powder there is in the hut. My flask is empty, andI must have it filled. "

On hearing these words, Sarah emptied the flask into a jar, which shehid away, and with it the canister of powder, and then sent out Nancywith the empty flask. The man swore fiercely when he found that therewas no powder in the flask. 

"At all events, get me some more food. I don't know when I may be ableto find another meal, and if there had been time you should have givenme a hot one. "

"That is Tony Peach, " said Sarah, as her daughter came in to get morefood. "He has taken to the bush, and that is what his life has broughthim to. "

The girls took out as much food as Peach could eat, but he wanted more, and told them that he must have enough to fill both his saddle-bags. They brought him out all the food they had cooked in the hut. As he wasstowing away the food in his bags, he happened to look up, and saw twoor three horsemen coming towards the hut. Letting the remainder of thedamper and cheese and meat drop, he gathered up his reins and gallopedoff as hard as he could go. The horsemen were Joseph and Tom and Sam. They rode direct to the hut. When they heard who the stranger was, Tomand Sam were for giving chase. 

"No, " said Joseph, "we have no authority to take him up. Leave him inGod's hands. He is welcome to the food the girls gave him. "

It might have been better if Peach had been seized at that time, for, soon after this, several robberies were committed in different parts ofthe colony, and always by two men supposed to be Peach and his mate. Travellers from the gold diggings were attacked; huts were entered, andeven farm-houses, and arms and ammunition and food and any valuables thethieves could lay hands on were carried off. 

Another trying time for sheep and cattle owners as well as farmers, nowarrived. There had been less rain than usual, and as the summeradvanced the heat increased, and the creeks and water-holes dried up. In many spots where there had been for years a pool of pure water, therewas nothing now but a bed of hard, cracked mud. Some stations werealtogether deserted, and shepherds had often to drive their flocks longdistances to water. Joseph Rudge had lately been made overseer, and itwas his duty to ride round the country in all directions to search forwater-holes. It was sad to watch the water get less and less in a hole, and to know that in a few days it would dry up and that another must befound or that the sheep or cattle would die. Before that time Josephgenerally managed by an active search, to secure a fresh water-hole. While other owners were losing their sheep and cattle by thousands, MrRamsay found that only a few hundreds of his had died owing to beingdriven of necessity very fast to fresh water-holes. 

One day as Joseph was on his way from a distant station, he saw smokerising out of a wood. 

While he was looking towards the spot, the smoke grew thicker andthicker, and presently flames burst out. Now they ran up the trees, nowalong the tall lank grass dried by the heat. They darted from tree totree--the bush (as the forest is called) was on fire. The flames spreadwith fearful quickness. 

He galloped on into the open country where there was thinner grass. Thebush reached all the way to his house. As he watched the rapid mannerin which the fire extended, he saw that no time was to be lost. Fast ashis horse galloped, the flames went faster, leaping as it were from treeto tree with a loud roar and crackle, the thick smoke forming a blackcloud overhead, while kangaroos and other animals rushed out of the bushto find safety in the open country. Had Joseph been able to venturethrough the forest he would soon have reached his hut, but he had tomake a long round to avoid it. 

He galloped on still hoping to get there before the flames reached it. Their property would certainly be destroyed, but he prayed that hisfamily might make their escape to a place of safety. He seemed to begetting ahead of the fire, but as he looked every now and then over hisshoulder, he saw it extending as far as the eye could reach, a wall ofleaping flames with a roof of dark smoke. In some places it ran alongthe ground out from the forest where the grass was long enough to feedit, while in others it soon went out for want of fuel. Numbers of theanimals and birds must have perished, and many animals rushed past withtheir hair singed, and several birds fell down dead before him. Theground was uneven and stony, but nothing stopped him, and at last hishut came in sight. The fire was still nearly a mile from it, but it wascoming on quickly. He found Sarah and the children standing at thedoor, much frightened, with the few things of value they had in theirhands. 

"Why, Sarah, I should have thought you knew that flour and pork would bemore use to us than those things, " he exclaimed with a laugh, whichsomewhat took away her fear, "but we may save the hut yet. Bring outthose three reaping-hooks, and all the axes and knives, and all handsmust cut away the grass round the hut. Here come Tom Wells and Sam andBen and Bill. " A large circle was cut, and the grass was cleared roundall the palings. It was then set on fire, and the flames went hissingalong the ground towards the already burning forest. In this way alarge space was cleared, and Joseph and his sons were able to keep watchon his own and Mat's hut, and the out-buildings, and to knock out anysparks as soon as they appeared. In this way, all the pens and otherproperty on the station was preserved. 

This done, they again mounted their horses and galloped off to lookafter the cattle which they had reason to fear might have beenfrightened by the fire. Their search was long, but they found the wholeherd collected in a stony valley, where there was little grass, andwhere the fire had not touched them. 

Soon after this, Mr Ramsay arrived, fully expecting to hear of the lossof sheep and cattle, if not of the huts and pens. 

"A diligent servant takes heed of his master's property, and deserves tobe rewarded, " he observed. 

"I looked after my wife and children first, sir, though, " said Joseph. 

"I should not have praised you if you had not, and it is time that youshould have some cattle of your own, and sheep too, and in a few days Iwill tell you what proportion of the increase of my flocks and herds Ican allow you. "

Troloo was now more than ever at the station. He came in, while MrRamsay was there, with the news that a large number of kangaroos wereassembled not far off, driven by the fire from their usual feedinggrounds. Hearing this, Mr Ramsay sent over to Mr Harlow, and a partywas made up to hunt them. It was well worth doing so, for though theirflesh is not as good as mutton, for each kangaroo killed, two sheepwould be saved. Both gentlemen had large dogs trained to hunt them. Akangaroo is a curious animal, with short forelegs, and very long hindones, which it doubles up under itself. With these, and the help of along, heavy tail, it leaps over the ground almost as fast as a horse cangallop. A female kangaroo has a sort of pouch in front, in which shecarries her young. On the approach of danger the young one jumps intoit, and off she goes. When very hard pressed, however, to save her ownlife, she will take it out and drop it, and thus go faster over theground. Two or three other gentlemen and several stockmen from theneighbouring stations joined the party. After they had ridden severalmiles, Troloo gave notice that they were near the spot. The rifles weregot ready, and the party spread out so as to stop the mob from breakingthrough. The feeding ground was in a large, open space, on the bordersof a part of the bush which had escaped the fire. As the horsemen drewnear, the creatures looked up, and seeing their enemies, started off. The dogs were set on and the horsemen followed, firing as they had achance. Several of the animals were shot, and Sam and Bob boasted thateach of them had killed one. They also came upon two emus, to whichthey gave chase. These are birds with long, thick legs and short wings, which help them along when running before the wind. Their bodies areabout half the size of a small Australian sheep. They run at a greatrate, so that a horse has hard work to come up with them. Sam's horsewas already tired, and they were obliged to give up the chase. As theyrode back to join the rest of the party, they saw under the trees whatlooked like a native hut. On getting nearer they found that a man wasinside leaning against the trunk of a tree. They called out, thinkingthat he was asleep, but he did not answer. 

Another look showed them that he was dead. The beard and hair werelong, and the face like that of a mummy. They turned away from thehorrid sight. 

"Bob, do you know, I believe that the dead man is no other than TonyPeach, " said Sam. "We must tell Mr Ramsay, and he'll come and see. The poor wretch has escaped being hung, which they say he would havebeen if he had been caught. "

They soon reached their friends, and Mr Ramsay and others came to lookat the dead man. They had no doubt who he was. A shallow grave was dugby some of the party, while two others cut out a slab of wood, on whichthey cut, with their knives, "Here lies Tony Peach, the bushranger. "What became of his misguided mate no one knew. Tony Peach had startedin life with far more advantages than Joseph Rudge, yet how differentwas the fate of the two men. Joseph and all his family prospered, andhe is now, though connected with Mr Ramsay, the owner of a large flockof sheep and a fine herd of cattle. Tom Wells, who married Sally, has afarm of his own near him. He has bought land for Sam and Bob, on whichthey both hope to settle before long; and they are looking out for thearrival of a family of old friends from England, with several daughters, from among whom they hope to find good wives for themselves. No moreneed be said than this--that the honest, hard-working man who goes toAustralia with a family, though he may meet with many ups and downs, maybe pretty sure of doing well himself, and of settling his childrencomfortably around him. 

STORY SIX, CHAPTER 1. 

LIFE UNDERGROUND; OR, DICK THE COLLIERY BOY. 

Young Dick Kempson sat all by himself in the dark, with a rope in hishand, at the end of a narrow passage, close to a thick, heavy door. There was a tramway along the passage, for small wagons or cars to runon. It was very low and narrow, and led to a long distance. Young Dickdid not like to think how far. It was not built with brick or stone, like a passage in a house, but was cut out; not through rock, but whatthink you? through coal. 

Young Dick was down a coal mine, more than one thousand feet below thegreen fields and trees and roads and houses--not that there were manygreen fields, by the bye, about there. The way down to the mine was bya shaft, like a round well sunk straight down into the earth to wherethe coal was known to be. Coal is found by boring, with an iron rod, one piece screwed on above another, with a place in the end to bring upthe different sorts of earth it passes through. This shaft was morethan a thousand feet deep; some are still deeper. Most people haveheard of Saint Paul's, the highest church in England; just place threesuch buildings one on the top of the other, and we have the depth downwhich young Dick had to go every day to his work. In the bottom of thisshaft, main passages and cross passages ran off for miles and miles tothe chambers or places where men were digging out the coal. 

The door near which Dick sat was called a trap, and Dick was called a"trapper. " His business was to open the trap when the little wagonsloaded with coal came by; pushed, or put, by boys who are thereforecalled "putters. " They bring the coal from the place where the hewersare at work to the main line, where it is hoisted up on the rolleys, orwagons, to be carried to the foot of the shaft. Dick was eleven yearsold, but he was small of his age, and he did not know much. How shouldhe? He had passed twelve hours of every six days in the week, for threeyears of his short life, under ground, in total darkness. He had twocandles, but one lasted him only while he passed from the shaft to histrap, and the other to go back again. He had begun to trap at sevenyears old, and went on for two years, and then the good Lord Shaftesburygot a law made that no little boys under ten years of age should work inmines; and so he got a year above ground. During that time he went to aschool, but he did not learn much, as it was a very poor one. 

When he was ten years old, he had to go into the mine again; he had nowbeen there every day for a year. He had heard talk of ghosts andspirits; and some of the bigger boys had told him that there was a greatblack creature, big enough to fill up all the passage, and that he hadcarried off a good many of the little chaps, once upon a time, no oneknew where, only they had never come back again. Poor little Dickthought that he too might be carried away some day. 

Often while he sat there, all alone in the dark, he trembled from headto foot, as he heard strange sounds, cries and groans it seemed. Was itthe spirits of the boys carried off, or was it the monster coming totake him away? He dared not run away, he dared not even move. He hadbeen there nine hours, with a short time for meals, when his father hadcome for him, and he would have to be three more, to earn his tenpence aday. It was Saturday, no wonder that he was sleepy, and, in spite ofhis fears of ghosts and hobgoblins, that he dropped asleep. He had beendreaming of the black creature he had been told of. He thought he sawhim creeping, creeping towards him. He felt a heavy blow on his head. He shrieked out, he thought that it was the long expected monster cometo carry him off. It was only Bill Hagger, the putter, with his corve, or basket of coals. An oath came with the blow, and further abuse. Poor little Dick dared not complain. He would only cry and pull openhis door, and shut it again directly Bill was through. 

Bill Hagger was black enough, all covered with coal-dust; but still itwas better to have a cuff from him than to be carried off by the bigcreature, he did not know where, still deeper down into the earth. Sohe dried the tears which were dropping from his eyes and forming blackmud on his cheeks, and tried to keep awake till the next putter and hisloaded corve should come by, or Bill Hagger should return with his emptyone. 

Bill had not far to go to reach the crane, where the corve would behoisted on the rolley, or wagon, to be dragged by a pony along therolley-way to the foot of the shaft. Dick wished that Bill had fartherto go, because he was pretty certain to give him a cuff or kick inpassing, just to remind him to look out sharp the next time. There wasanother thing he wished, that it was time for "kenner, " when his fatherwould come and take him home to his mother. What "kenner" means, weshall know by-and-by. 

I said that there were miles and miles of these rolley or main-tramways. This one was two miles straight, right away from the shaft. As the airin mines gets foul and close, and does not move, it is necessary to sendcurrents of wind into all the passages to blow it away. The first thingis to get the wind to come down the shaft, and then to make it movealong certain passages and so up by another shaft. Only a smallquantity of wind can come down, and if that was let wander about atpleasure, it would do no good. So these traps or doors are used to stopit from going along some passages, and to make it go along others, tillthe bad air is blown out of them. To help this, a large furnace isplaced at the bottom of the second shaft, called the up-cast shaft, because the foul air is cast up it. 

There are several ways of working mines. This one was worked insquares, or on the panel system. The main roads are like the frame of awindow; the passages like the wood dividing the panes of glass; and themasses of coal which remain at first like the panes themselves. Thesemasses are again cut into, till pillars only remain about twelve feet bytwenty-four. These pillars are at last removed, and props of woodplaced instead, so that the whole mine is worked-out. 

The men who do the chief work in the mine, that is, cut out the coalfrom the bed or seam, are the "hewers. " Dick's father was a hewer. They have only two tools--a short pick, and a round-bladed spade; with abig basket, or "corve, " into which they put the coal, and a gauze-wirelantern. Suppose a passage first cut; then they hew out chambers oneither side, each about twelve feet wide. The roof of them is proppedup as the hewer works on, till all the coal likely to fall is hewn away. The hewer's work is very hard; sometimes he kneels, sometimes sits, andsometimes has to lie on his back or side, knocking away with his heavypick. Often he is bathed in wet from the heat, for it is very hot downin that black chamber, as the wind cannot pass through it. 

In some places, where there is no fear of bad gas, and open lights canbe used, the coal is blasted by gunpowder, as rock often is. This, however, cannot often be done; as the bad gas, called fire-damp, maycome up any moment, and if set light to, go off like gunpowder or thegas from coal, and blow the chambers and everybody near to pieces. 

The cut shows the form of these chambers when the mouth is just beingfinished. These chambers are in a very wide seam; but some seams areonly three feet thick, and the men can in no part stand upright. Whenall the chambers and passages are cut out in a panel, the pillars ofcoal are removed, and pillars of wood put in their stead to support theroof. Some of the main passages run on straight ahead for two milesfrom the foot of the shaft, and the coal has to be brought all thisdistance on the rolleys, dragged by ponies or horses sometimes. Itmight puzzle some people to say how the animals are got down and upagain. They are let down in a strong net of ropes, and once down, theydo not after see daylight. There are regular stables for them cut outof the coal at the bottom of the mine, and they seem to like the life, for they grow sleek and fat. 

In Wallford mine, in which little Dick worked, there were employed 250grown men, 75 lads, and 40 young boys. The hewer's dress is generally aflannel shirt and drawers, and a pair of stout trousers, a coarseflannel waistcoat and coat, the last long with pockets, a pair ofbroggers (worsted stockings without feet), and a leathern cap. These atonce get as black as coal-dust can make them. 

There are different cranes on the rolley-ways, near the side cuttings, and each is under charge of a lad, called a crane-hoister, whosebusiness is to hoist the baskets brought to him by the putters on to therolleys, and to chalk down the number he cranes on a board. When thetrain of rolleys reaches the shaft, the full corves are hoisted up, andempty ones let down, which are placed on the rolleys, and carried backfor the hewers to fill. 

No spirits are allowed in mines, but as the heat and the work makes thepeople thirsty, tubs of water are placed at intervals, at which they candrink. In their long journeys, the putters stop to "bait, " and are wellsupplied with bread and cheese, and bacon, and cold coffee or tea. 

The miner has not only to fear choke or fire-damp, but sometimes water. A mine has, therefore, to be drained. A well or tank is dug in thelowest level, into which all the springs are made to run. A pump issunk down to it through a shaft with a steam engine above, by which allthe water is pumped out. 

It may be seen that the working of a mine requires the very greatestcare. If this is not taken, the roof may fall in and crush thelabourers; or fire-damp may explode and blow them to pieces, and perhapsset fire to the mine itself and destroy it; or black or choke-damp maysuffocate them, as the fumes of charcoal do; or water may rush in anddrown them. A lamp, invented by a very learned man, Sir Humphrey Davy, is used when there is a risk of fire-damp. It is closely surroundedwith very fine wire-gauze, through which neither the flame of the candlenor the gas can pass, yet the light can get out almost as well asthrough the horn of a common lantern. 

Before any workmen are allowed to go into the pit in the morning, certain officers, called "over-men" and "deputies, " go down throughevery part that is being worked, to see that all is safe. If anythingis wrong, or doubtful, the inspecting deputy places a shovel across theplace, or chalks a warning on the blade and sticks it in the ground, that it may be seen by the hewer. As soon as they have found the minesafe, the hewers come down and begin their work; and when they have hadtime to fill a corve or so, they are followed by the putters and otherlabourers. Sometimes it is necessary to work all the twenty-four hours, and then the people are divided into three gangs, who each work eighthours; but the poor little trappers are divided only into two parties, who have each to be down in the mine twelve hours together, sitting allalone by the side of their traps, like poor little Dick, in the dark. 

STORY SIX, CHAPTER 2. 

Little Dick's father, Samuel Kempson, was a hewer. He had not beenbrought up to the mining work, like most of the men; but once, whenthere had been a strike among the colliers, he and others from a distantcounty, being out of work, had got employed, and tempted by the highwages, had continued at it. While little Dick was sleeping at his trap, and getting a cuff on the head from Bill Hagger, Samuel Kempson wassitting, pick in hand, and hewing in a chamber at the end of a mainpassage nearly two miles off. The Davy lamp was hung up before him, andthe big corve was by his side. There he sat or kneeled, working withhis pick, or filling the corve with his spade. Often he thought of thegreen fields and hedges and woods of his native county. Though hiswages had been poor, and his work hedging or ditching, or driving carts, or tending cattle; and though he had been sometimes wet to the skin, andcold enough in winter, yet in summer he had had the blue sky and thewarm sun above him, and he had breathed the pure air of heaven, andsmelt the sweet flowers and the fresh mown grass, and he sighed forthose things which he was never likely to enjoy again. 

There he was, a hewer of coal, and a hewer of coal he must remain, orrun the chance of starving; for he had a large family, and though he hadhad good wages, three shillings and sometimes four shillings a day, andno rent to pay, and coals for a trifle, he had saved nothing. He hadnow got into such a way of spending money that he thought he couldn'tsave. His wife, Susan, thought so too. She was not a bad wife, and shekept the house clean and tidy enough, but she was not thrifty. Both heand she were as sober and industrious as most people, but they had meatmost days, and plenty of white bread, and butter and cheese, and goodclothes, and other things, which cost money, so that out of twenty-twoshillings a week, there was next to nothing to put by. They had, too, anumber of children, and some of them were heavy burdens, and were likelyto remain so. The eldest boy, Jack, had had a fancy for the sea, and hehad gone away when quite a little chap with a captain who had taken aliking to him, and the vessel had never more been heard of. That wasbefore they left their old home in the country and came to live at thecoal-pits. Poor Susan often thought of her lost boy, with his laughingblue eyes, and his light hair curling over his fair brow, just as he waswhen he went away. Mothers are apt to think of their lost young ones. It is well if a parent can feel sure that her child is with God inheaven, that she can say, "I taught it early to love Jesus; I know thathe trusted in His cleansing blood, in His all-sufficient sacrifice onthe cross. "

Poor Susan had not that thought to comfort her, but still it did nottrouble her. She mourned her lost boy like a loving mother, but not somuch for his sake as because she wished again to fold him in her arms, and press once more a kiss on his cheeks. 

Her next boy, Ben, worked with his father in the pit, as a putter. Hewas a rough, wildish lad--not worse than his companions, but that wasnot saying much for him, and it seemed but too likely that he would givehis parents trouble. 

The third boy, Lawrence, was a helpless cripple. He had been hurt inthe mine three years before, and it seemed likely he would never walkagain. He went by the name of Limping Lawry among the people in thevillage of Wallford. I was going to say companions--but he had not manycompanions, for he could not move about without pain. Only on asummer's day he limped out and sat on a bench against the front wall ofthe cottage. He was a pale-faced lad, with large blue eyes and a broadforehead, and did not look as if he could be long for this world; yet helived on while others seemingly stronger were taken away. 

Then there was Nelly. Once she was a bright little thing, but she hadfallen on her head, and though she did not seem much hurt at first, shebecame half-witted, and was now an idiot. As she grew older she wassometimes inclined to be mischievous. Lawry might have watched overher, but she was so active and quick that she could easily get away fromhim. She knew well that it hurt him to move, so she kept her eye onhim, and was off like a shot when he got up to go after her. So poorLawry could not be of much use, even looking after his idiot sister. Heused to hope that he might some day get better, and go to work again inthe mine, as a trapper, at all events, which did not require muchstrength. But the doctor told him that he must not think of it; thatthe coal-dust and bad air would hurt his lungs, and that he would verysoon die if he did. If he ever got strong, he must find work aboveground. 

The Kempsons were decent people, their neighbours could say that ofthem, but they were not God-fearing and God-loving, --they had no familyprayers, no Bible was ever read in their house, and they seldom or neverwent to a place of worship; to be sure, the nearest was some way off, and that was their excuse--it was hard, if they did, to get back todinner, at least to a hot dinner, and that is what they always liked tohave on Sundays. Such was little Dick's family. 

He therefore knew very little about God, or God's love to man throughJesus Christ. How should he? He had nothing pleasant to think of as towhat was past nor what was to come. He knew nothing of heaven--of afuture life where all sin and sorrow, and pain and suffering is to bedone away--of its glories, of its joy, its wonders. All he knew wasthat he had sat there in that dark corner trapping for many, many wearyhours, and that he should have to sit there many more till he was bigenough to become a putter. Then he should have to fill corves withcoal, and push them along the tramways for some years more till he gotto be a hewer like his father. He only hoped that he might have to hewin seams not less than five feet thick--not in three feet or less, assome men had to do, obliged to crawl into their work on hands and knees, and crawl out again, and to work all day lying down or sitting. Butthey had light though--that was pleasant; they could move about, andworked only eight hours. He had to work in the dark for twelve hours, and dared not move, so he thought that he should change for the better, that is to say, when he thought at all, which was not often. Generallyhe sat, only wishing that it was "kenner" time, that he might go home tosupper and bed. The name is given, because, when the time for work isover, the banksman at the mouth of the pit cries out, "Kenner, kenner. "

Dick did not get much play, even in summer. In the winter he never sawdaylight, except on Sundays. When he was thinking of what might happen, he could not help remembering how many men and boys he had known, somehis own playmates--or workmates rather--who had been killed in that andthe neighbouring pits. Some had been blown to pieces by the fire-damp;others had been stifled by the choke-damp; a still greater number hadbeen killed coming up and down the shaft, either by the rope or chainbreaking, or by falling out of the skip or basket, or by the skip itselfbeing rotten and coming to pieces. But even yet more had lost theirlives by the roof falling in, or by large masses of coal coming down andcrushing them. Many had been run over by the corves, or crushed by themagainst the sides, like his poor brother Lawry; and others had beenkilled by the machinery above ground. "I wonder, " thought Dick, "whether one of those things will be my lot. " Poor little Dick, whatbetween fancied dangers and real dangers, he had an unhappy time of it. Still he was warm and dry, and had plenty of food, and nothing to do butsit and open a door. Some might envy him. 

Dick had one friend, called David Adams, a quiet, pale-faced, gentlelittle boy, younger than himself. He had only lately come to the mine, and been made a trapper. His father had been killed by the falling inof the roof, and his widowed mother had hard work to bring up herfamily; so, much against her will, she had to let little David go and bea trapper. She had never been down a mine, and did not know what sortof a life he would have to lead, or she might not have let him go. Sometimes one man took charge of David and sometimes another, and placedhim at his trap, --generally the man who was going to hew in thatdirection. Miners, though their faces look black on week-days, andtheir hands are rough, have hearts like other men, and all felt forlittle David. Often Samuel Kempson took charge of David, and carriedhim home with him; and Dick and David used to talk to each other andtell their griefs. David could read, and he would tell Dick all aboutwhat he had read on Sundays, and Dick at last said that he should liketo read too, and David promised to teach him. At last David lent himsome books, and used to come in on Sundays, and in the evenings insummer, to help him read them, and that made them all greater friendsthan before. 

Well, there sat Dick at his trap, very hungry and very sleepy and verytired, and longing to hear the shout of "Kenner, kenner!" echoing alongthe passages. He sat on and on; his thoughts went back to the ghostsand spirits he had been told about, and to the tales he had heard of theblowing up of gas, and the sad scenes he had indeed himself witnessed. How dark and silent was all around! Had he dropped asleep? He heard adeep and awful groan. "I am come to take you off, down, down, down, "said a voice. Where it came from, Dick could not tell. He trembledfrom head to foot, trying to see through the darkness in vain, for nocat could have seen down there. Not a ray of the blessed sunlight everpenetrated into those passages. "I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming!"said the voice. 

"Oh, don't, don't, don't!" cried poor Dick, in a terrible fright. 

He felt a big hand placed on his shoulder. "I've got you, young one, come along with me, " said the voice. 

Dick shrieked out with fear. He trembled all over, and the next moment, just as a loud, hoarse laugh sounded in his ear, he went off in a faint. 

"Kenner, kenner, kenner!" was shouted down the pit's mouth, and echoedalong the galleries. Samuel Kempson heard it far away, and, crawlingout of the hole in which he had been hewing, threw his pick and spadeover his shoulder, and took his way homeward, not over pleasant greenfields as labourers in the country have to do, but along the dark, blackgallery, lighted by his solitary Davy lamp, which was well-nigh burntout. He did not forget his boy Dick. He called out to him, but got noreply. Again and again he called. His heart sank within him, for heloved the little fellow, though he made him work in a way which, toothers, might appear cruel. Could anything have happened to the child?Once more he called, "Dick, Dick!" Still there was no answer. Perhapssome of the other men had taken him home. He went on some way towardsthe pit's mouth, then his mind misgave him, and he turned back. To astranger, all the traps would have looked alike, but he well knew theone at which Dick was stationed. He pushed it open, and there, at alittle distance from it, he saw a small heap of clothes. He sprangforward. It was Dick. Was his boy dead? He feared so. The childneither moved nor breathed. He snatched him up, and ran on with him tothe foot of the shaft, where several men stood waiting to be drawn up. The rough men turned to him with looks of pity in their faces. 

"Anything fallen on the little chap?" asked one. 

"Foul air, may be, " observed a second. 

"Did a rolley strike him, think you?" asked a third. 

"I don't know, " answered the father; "I can't find where he's hurt. Butdo let us get up, he may chance to come to in fresh air. "

As he spoke, the "skip, " or "bowk, " used for descending and ascendingthe shaft, reached the bottom, and Samuel Kempson and his boy werehelped into it, and with some of the other men, began their ascent. Thefather held the boy in his arms, and watched his countenance as theyneared the light which came down from the mouth of the pit; first a merespeck, like a star at night, and growing larger and larger as they gotup higher. 

An eyelid moved, the lip quivered: "He's alive, he's alive!" heexclaimed joyfully. 

As soon as he reached the top, he ran off with Dick in his arms to hiscottage. 

Mrs Kempson saw him coming. "What! another of them hurt?" she criedout: "God help us!"

"I don't know, " said Kempson; "the child is very ill, if not deadalready. Let us put him to bed and send for the doctor. It's more thanyou or I can do to cure him of ourselves. "

Poor Dick was breathing, and twitching with his hands, but was quiteunconscious. His black clothes were taken off him by his mother, whowashed and put him to bed, while Samuel went to fetch the doctorattached to the mines. The doctor at once said that something hadshaken his nerves, that he must be kept quiet, but well fed and amused. He had had a fright, that was it. Samuel knew the tricks that wereplayed, and he guessed that some one had frightened Dick, and resolvedto find out who it was, if he could. The best thing they could do forDick just then, after he had taken the doctor's stuff, was to send forDavid Adams to come and amuse him. David, who had just come up from thepit, very gladly came as soon as he had washed, and brought his mostamusing books, and he sat and read by Dick's bedside. This did Dick agreat deal of good, and while he listened to David's reading, he almostforgot his fright. 

The next day, which was Sunday, he was a great deal better, and Davidcame again to spend the day with him. Nobody went from the village to aplace of worship, the nearest was some way off, the men were tired, andthe women wanted to tidy their houses. The afternoon was very fine, andwhile the people were sitting at their doors, or standing about ingroups in the dirty, unpaved street, a gentleman came among them with asmall bundle of printed papers in his hand. 

"Here comes a schoolmaster, " said one. "I wonder now what he wants withus. "

"May be to teach us something we don't know, " observed a second. 

"If he had come to tell us that our wages had risen, I'd have thankedhim, " said a third, with a sneer. 

"Maybe he is a parson of some sort, " said Joseph Kempson. "I, for one, should like to hear him, and so would the boys in there. There was atime when never a Sunday passed but what we went to the house of prayer. Now, from one end of the year to the other we are not seen inside one. "Joseph sighed, as he spoke. 

The stranger had observed Kempson, and seeing something pleasant in hisface, came up and addressed him, "Perhaps you will give me a chair, " hesaid; "I should like to sit down and read to those who may wish to hearme. "

"Yes, sir, gladly, " answered Kempson, bringing out a chair. "I have asick boy within; he will hear all you say, as the window is open. "

The gentleman read for a short time, and a good many people came roundand listened, and though! what he was reading very interesting. Then hetook out a Bible, and read from that; and, closing the book, told themof God's great love for man, which made Him send His Son Jesus Christinto the world, first to show men how to live, not to fight and quarrel, but to do good to all around them; and then, men being by nature sinful, and justly condemned, that He might offer Himself up as a sacrifice, andtake their sins upon Himself. 

"My dear friends, trust in this merciful loving Jesus, " he exclaimed. "He has completed the work of saving you, it is perfect in every way. All you have to do is to repent and trust to Him, and to go and sin nomore, intentionally, wilfully that is to say. Oh, my dear friends, think of the love and mercy of God, through Christ Jesus. He neverrefuses to hear any who come to Him. His love surpasses that of anyhuman being; His ears are ever open to our prayers. "

"I should like to have a talk with you, sir, " said Kempson, when thestranger, having finished speaking, was giving his tracts to the peoplearound. "There are some things which you said, sir, which I haven'theard for a long time, or thought about, but I know that they are true. "

"Gladly, my friend, " was the answer. 

The stranger had a long talk with Joseph, and promised to come againbefore long to see him. 

STORY SIX, CHAPTER 3. 

Several days passed by. Dick did not seem exactly ill, but he prayedand begged so hard that he might not go back to the pit, that when thedoctor came and said also it might do him harm, his father consented notto take him. Still Joseph did not like losing his boy's wages. Davidhad promised, on the next Saturday, as soon as he came back from thepit, to come and read to Dick. When the evening arrived, however, Daviddid not appear. Dick was beginning to complain very much of David, whenMrs Adams came to ask if he was there, as he had never come home. WhenJoseph came in, he said that he had not seen him all day. He thoughtthat he had not gone down into the pit. Mrs Adams began to get into agreat fright. David had left home in the morning to go to his work inthe pit, and she was sure that he would not have gone elsewhere. WhenJoseph came in, he undertook to go to the pit's mouth and learn if Davidhad gone down. He came back, saying that there was no doubt about hishaving gone down, but no one remembered for certain that he had come upagain. 

"Oh father, let's you and I go down and look for him!" exclaimed Dick;"I feel quite strong and able for it. "

"Why I thought you'd be afraid of going down the pit again, boy, "remarked Joseph. 

"No, father, " answered Dick, "I remember what that missionary gentlemansaid the other day, if we are doing our duty we shouldn't fear, for Godwill take care of us; and I am sure that I should be doing my dutylooking after David, who has been so kind to me. "

Joseph could say nothing against it; so as soon as he had had somesupper, he, with Dick and Mrs Adams, set out to find the "doggy" of thepit, to learn if he knew for certain that David had come up, and if not, to get his and the "butty's" leave to go down and search for him. [Note1. ] On their way three or four other men offered to go with them. 

The doggy could not say that David had come up, and the whole party, therefore, were lowered down the pit, except Mrs Adams; she sat downnear the mouth, waiting anxiously for their return. 

While she sat there, a lad dressed as a sailor drew near. He stoodstill near the mouth of the pit, looking about him. The ground washigh; and he could have seen a long way had it not been for the smokefrom hundreds of tall chimneys which every now and then sent out thickwreaths, which hung like a black cloud over the scene. 

In the far distance was the large town of Newcastle, also full of tallchimneys, with a cloud of smoke over it. Close to it flows the riverTyne. All around were tall engine-houses, out of which came all sortsof curious, dreadful sounds, --groans, and hissings, and whistlings, andclankings of iron; while high up in the air, stretching out from them, were huge beams like the arms of great giants working up and down in allsorts of ways; some pumping water out of the mines from the undergroundstreams which run into them, others lifting the baskets of coal out ofthe shafts, or bringing up or lowering down the miners and other menengaged in the works. The noises proceeded chiefly from the gins, andpulleys, and wheels, and railways; all busy in lifting the coal out ofthe pit and sending it off towards the river. The whole country lookedblack and covered with railway lines, each starting away from one ofthese great engine-houses which are close to the mouths of the pits. There were rows of small wagons or trucks on them, and as the huge armslifted up a corve, or basket, it was emptied into the wagon till theywere filled, and then away they started, some of them without engines, down an inclined plane towards the river. Away they went at a rapidrate, and it seemed as if they would be carried furiously over thecliff, or rather the end of a long, high stage into the river. On asudden, however, they began to go slower; then they stopped, and onewagon went off by itself from the rest till it got to the end of thepier; then two great iron arms got hold of it, and gently, as if it wasa baby, lifted it off the pier and lowered it down till it reached thedeck of a vessel lying underneath. When there, the bottom opened andthe coals slipped out into the hold of the vessel. Then up the wagonwent again, and another came down in the same way, till the whole trainwas emptied; then off the wagons set, rolling away to be filled again. 

The sailor lad observed poor Mrs Adams's anxious, eager looks. 

"What is the matter now, mother?" he asked, going up to her, andspeaking in a kind tone. "You seem down-hearted at something. "

"Yes; well I may be, my lad, when my little son, as good and bright achild as ever lived, has been and got lost down in the pit. He wentdown at daybreak this morning, and no one has ever seen him since. Sucha dreadful place, too, full of dark passages and pits and worked-outpanels; and then there is the bad gas, which kills so many; and thenthere are the rolleys, and many a poor lad has got run over with them. Oh dear, oh dear!"

"Well, mother, I hope the lad will be found, " said the young stranger. "I didn't think the place was like that; may be you'll tell me somethingmore about it. "

The poor widow was too glad to have some one to talk to, so she told thelad all about the mine, the number of hours the boys worked, and thewages they got, and the way they were treated generally. The youngsailor thanked her heartily. "I thought as how I'd been forced to leadsomething like a dog's life at sea, and I had a mind to come and have aturn at mining; for thinks I to myself, I'll have a dry jacket andplenty of grub, and a turn in to a quiet bed every night, but now I hearwhat sort of work it is, I'll go back to the old brig; we've daylightand fresh air and change of scene, and though we are dirty enough attimes, I'll own we haven't to lie on our backs and peck away at coal ina hole three feet high, with the chance of being blown to pieces anymoment. "

"I can't say that you are wrong, my lad, " said the poor widow, lookingup at the sailor. "It has been a fatal calling to those belonging tome, and I would advise no one to enter it who has any other means ofliving. "

"Thank ye, mother, thank ye, " answered the stranger, "I'll take youradvice, but I should like to know if they find that poor boy of yours; Ihope they will, that I do. " The sailor could not stop any longer, as itwas getting late; but he asked the widow where she lived, that he mightcome back and learn if her son was found. Then off he set, running ashard as he could go, to get back to the high-road, by which he mightreach the river before it was dark. 

Meantime Dick and his father and the other men went down the pit withtheir lamps, to look for David. "It's like hunting for a needle in arick of hay, I'm thinking, " said one of the men. "If we could learnwhat way the little fellow was going when he was last seen; you knowthere are more than sixty miles of road, taking all into account, and itwill be a pretty long business to walk over them. "

"Right, mate, but the poor boy won't have got very far, " observed JosephKempson. "Come along now. "

The men hurried on along the dark, low galleries. Dick every now andthen shouting out with his young, shrill voice, "David, David Adams!"

But there was no answer. It was a work of danger too; for they had topass along several passages in which the air felt very heavy, and theyknew well that if it had not been for their Davy lamps they would allhave been blown to pieces. They called and called, and looked intoevery dark corner, still David was not to be found. The men began totalk of giving up the search as a bad job. "Oh don't let us give up, father, " exclaimed Dick, "David must be somewhere. " Joseph liked littleDavid, but still he was tired, and he thought, with the other men, thatthey might hunt on for a week and yet not find him. However, they allagreed to take another long round. 

The poor widow sat and sat, anxiously waiting the return of her friends. 

The banksman at the mouth of the pit received the signal from thosebelow that they were ready to be drawn up. It was now quite dark. "Stay quiet, dame, stay quiet, " he said, as the poor widow was about tolean over the mouth of the pit to watch for her boy. "May be, afterall, the lad isn't there. I've known boys lost for many a day down thepits, and yet found at last. "

Little Dick with his father and the other men were soon at the top. Asthey one after the other got out of the basket, the poor widow eagerlyadvanced with out-stretched arms to clasp her son. "Oh my boy, my boy, where are you? Come, David, come!" she exclaimed. 

"Very sorry, Mrs Adams, very sorry; but we couldn't find the littlechap, " said Samuel Kempson, in a tone which showed that he felt what hesaid. The other men echoed his words. "Still it's better to comewithout him than to bring him up as many have been brought up, as youwell know, without life in him. Don't give way now, we'll try again, and more than likely that he'll find his way back to where people are atwork. "

The widow heard some deep sobs. They came from Dick. "You're a kind, good lad; you loved my boy, " she cried, pressing him to her, and givingway to bitter tears. 

"And I will go down and look for him again, that I will, Mrs Adams; sodon't take on so, now, " answered Dick, stopping his own sobs. 

Samuel insisted on the widow coming to his house. She, after somepressing, consented, and the men assisted her along in the dark towardsthe village. They may have been rough in looks and rough in language, but the widow's grief softened their hearts and made them kind andgentle in their manner. Mrs Kempson received the poor widow with muchkindness, and did her best to comfort her. 

They did little else all the evening but talk of little David and whathad become of him. Mrs Kempson recollecting what her own son had done, observed that perhaps he had come up after all, and had gone away toNewcastle, or Shields, to get on board ship. 

"Oh no, no, my David would never have gone away from me, " exclaimed MrsAdams; yet, as she said this, hope came back to her heart, for he mightperhaps have thought that he was going off to make his fortune, and thatif he came to her first she might prevent him. "Alack, alack, there'slittle wisdom in young heads. Maybe he's gone that way, Mrs Kempson, "she said at last, and the thought seemed to bring some comfort to her. 

All appeared to agree with her except Dick. He was sure that Davidwould not have gone away without, at all events, hinting his intentionto him. 

The next day was Sunday, when no mines are worked. Dick, in spite ofhis fears of bogies, had made up his mind to go and search for hisfriend alone if he could get no one to go with him. He thought perhapsthe butty would let him go down with his Davy lamp. He would fill hispockets with bits of paper and drop them as he went along, so as to findhis way back, and to know where he had been over before. He had gotseveral old newspapers to tear up, and he would take a stick with him, and a basket of food, and a bottle of beer, and he would go into everynook and passage of the mine till he had found his friend. Dick's werebrave thoughts. He fancied that he should have foes of all sorts tofight with, but for the sake of his friend he made up his mind to meetthem. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Note 1. The "butty" is the head man over all the works, and indeedeverything about the pit; the "doggy" has charge of the undergroundworks, and looks after all the men and boys in the pit. 

STORY SIX, CHAPTER 4. 

The next day was Sunday, when the missionary again came to the village, and did not fail to visit Samuel Kempson's cottage. He heard of thedisappearance of David Adams. He pointed out the only source from whichthe sorrowing mother could obtain comfort, and besought all thosepresent to turn at once to the Lord. He reminded them that any momentthey might all be hurried into eternity. He asked each man present tosay how many friends of his had been cut off on a sudden--how many haddied unprepared--and then begged them to tell him if they were ready toleave the world; and if they were not ready, when would they be ready?"Do not delay, do not delay, my friends, " he said, in a voice which wentto the hearts of many of his hearers. 

Among them was Samuel Kempson. From that day he became a serious-mindedman, while he did his best to show by his life that his heart waschanged. Others again listened, but went away and continued in the samebad habits in which they had before indulged. 

Dick was eager for Monday morning, when the pit would be again at work, that he might go and look for David. Long before daybreak he was onfoot on his way to the pit's mouth. He had to wait, however, till theunder-viewers and deputy over-men had gone down to see the condition ofthe pit, whether it was fit for people to work in, or whether any streamof bad air had burst out likely to kill or injure any one. At last themine was reported safe, and Dick, and the other boys, and several of themen were allowed to descend. Dick eagerly inquired of the deputyover-men if they had seen anything of David. No; they did not eventhink that he was in the pit, was their reply. Dick remembered that themissionary had said "that those who trust in God and do right need fearno evil. "

"That's what I am doing, " he said to himself, as he took his Davy's lampfrom the lamp room, and grasped his stick. "I don't fear the blackbogies or any other creatures such as Bill Hagger is so fond of talkingabout. May be, as the missionary says, there are no such things, andDavid thinks that it was Bill Hagger himself who frightened me. " Withsuch thoughts, brave little Dick strengthened his mind, and braced uphis heart as he walked on. 

From the gate-road, or chief gallery, roads opened off on either side. Dick made up his mind to go to the farthest end, and then to work downone side, shouting as he went along, and then the other, dropping hisbits of paper. He walked as fast as he could, but to move along with amass of rock and earth and coal a thousand feet thick overhead, is notlike walking across the green fields with the blue sky above one, andthe fresh air blowing, and the sun shining, and the birds singing. Dickhad only walls of coal on either side, or pillars of coal, or caves outof which the coal had been hewn, or the mouths of other long passages, some leading upwards, some downwards to other levels. He had a blackroof of rock above him, and black ground under his feet. "Anybody seenanything of David Adams?" he asked of the different gangs of pushers, hoisters, or thrusters he met with their trucks of coal as they came outof the passages and holes on all sides, some so low that they had tostoop down till their heads were no higher than the trucks. 

"No; what, is he not found yet?" was the answer he got generally. 

It took him nearly half an hour to get to the end of the gate-road. When he reached thus far, he took the first opening to the right, andbegan dropping his paper, and calling out his friend's name. He went onand on, expecting to get into another gate-road, and in time to reachthe main shaft. How long he had been walking he could not tell, when hefound himself in a deserted part of the mine. It was like a large, lowhall, the roof supported by stout pieces of timber, called "sprags, " insome places, and in others by "cogs, " or lumps of coal, or by pillars ofcoal. It was necessary here to be more careful than ever in strewingthe paper, or it might be long indeed before he could find his way outagain. He thought of poor David; how, if he had got here, he might havewandered about round and round, like a person lost in a wood, and sunkdown overcome at last, and not able to rise up again. He could notaltogether get over either fears for himself. His lamp shed a very dimlight, and that only to a short distance, and he thought he saw darkforms moving about here and there, sometimes stopping and looking athim, and then going on again. He, like a true hero, had braced up hisnerves to brave everything he might meet, or he would have shrieked out, and tried to run away. He, however, stoutly kept on his way, uttering aprayer that if they were evil spirits, they might do him no harm. Stillhe, as before, cried out David's name; but there was no answer. 

His heart at length began to sink within him; a faintness came over him. He had got a long, long way from the shaft, and he had hoped beforethis to find his friend. His legs ached, too, for he had been for along time wandering about. He sat down at last on a block of coal andthought over what he should do. Nothing should make him give up thesearch; that he was determined on. Then he remembered that his lampwould not last much longer; so he got up, and pushed on. He had need ofall his courage, for when he stopped he thought that he heard sighs andgroans and distant cries. He had often before trembled at hearing suchsounds, thinking that they were made by the evil spirits or hobgoblinsof whom Bill Hagger had told him. Now, after a moment's thought, heknew that they were caused by the wind passing through a trap either notwell closed or with a slit in it. He could not open his lamp to see howmuch oil remained in it, and as he could only guess how long he had beenwalking, he could not tell what moment he might find the light go out. 

He hurried on; he thought that he was in the right way. He was gettingnear a gate-road, when a moaning sound reached his ear. He stopped thathe might be sure whence it came. Then he walked on cautiously towardsthe place, stopping every now and then to be sure that he was going inthe right way. Again he heard the moaning sound. It was like thatuttered by a person in pain. He followed it till he got to the mouth ofa narrow passage, which had been begun, but did not seem to run far. Suddenly the idea came on him that these sounds were made by one of themuch-dreaded bogies. "If it is one of them creatures, he can't do meany harm, for I'm doing what is right, " he said to himself, and boldlywent in, holding his lamp before him. He had not gone far, when he sawstretched out before him on the ground the form of his young friend. Hehad his arms extended, as if he had fallen groping his way. 

"O David, David, come to life: do now!" cried Dick, kneeling down by hisside. 

David uttered a low groan; that was better than if he had been silent. So, encouraged by this, Dick lifted him up, and poured a few drops ofbeer down his throat. The liquid revived him; not from its strength, however. 

"Come out of this place, David, do now; the air is very bad and close, you'll never get well while you stay here. "

David at last came round enough to know what was said to him, and withDick's help was able to crawl into the gate-road, which was not far off. Here the fresher air, for fresh it was not, brought him still moreround, and he sat up and eat some of the food which Dick had brought. David kept staring at Dick all the time he was eating without saying aword, as if he did not know what had happened. 

"Come along now, David, " said Dick, at last; "there is no time to lose, for the lamp may be going out, and it won't do to have to find our wayto the shaft in the dark. "

"Oh no, no. How did you find me, Dick?" asked David. 

"Come to look for you, " answered Dick. 

"And how is poor mother? She must have been in a sad way all thesedays, thinking what had become of me. "

"Mrs Adams bears up pretty well, " said Dick. 

"But how long do you think I have been down here? A week, or is itlonger?" said David. 

He could scarcely believe that it had been from the Saturday morningtill the Monday evening since he was lost. 

"I thought that I must have been down very many days, " he remarked. "Ihad my day's dinner with me, so I just took a little nibble of food forbreakfast, and another for dinner, and a little more for supper. Itseemed to me that I stopped five or six hours between each meal, andthen I lay down and went to sleep, and when I awoke I thought it wasmorning, and that the people would be coming down to work; so I got upand walked on, thinking that they would hear me; but I waited andwaited, there was not the sound of a pick anywhere near, and I knew thatthere would be no use shouting. Once I found the air much cooler, andas I looked up I saw the stars shining right overhead, and then I knewthat I must be under an air shaft. Now, I thought, I shall find theroad to the pit's mouth, but I turned the wrong way, I suppose, and atlast, when I could go on no longer, I went right into the hole where youfound me. I couldn't have been long there. I tried to cry out as loudas I could, but I had no strength; and if you hadn't come, Dick, Ishould have died before many minutes. "

David gave this account of himself by fits and starts, as he and Dickwere trying to find their way into the chief gate-road. Dick had tosupport his friend, who was very weak, and scarcely able to get along. He himself, too, was ready to faint, for he had been walking some hours, and that in a hot mine was very trying. For what they could tell theymight still have a long distance to go. They went on for some way, thenagain they had to sit down and rest. 

"Now, David, we must go on again, " exclaimed Dick, rousing himself; "weshall soon be where the hewers are at work. "

"Oh, I cannot, I cannot move another step, I fear, " answered David, in avoice which showed how weak he had become. 

Dick made him take a little more food, and then, putting his arm roundhim, helped him along. Thus they went on for some distance. 

"Hark!" exclaimed Dick, joyfully, "I hear the sound of a pick. Yes, I'msure of it. There is some one singing, too. It's a putter. He'scoming this way. "

As he spoke, the dull sound of the pick, "thud, thud, thud, " reachedtheir ears. With their spirits raised they were again going on, whenout went Dick's lamp. They were in complete darkness. Not a glimmer oflight came from where the other men were at work. Dick shouted asloudly as he could to draw attention. As to David, his voice could nothelp much. No one attended to them. They stumbled on for some timefarther. 

"I know that voice. It's Bill Hagger, I'm sure, " said Dick. "I'veoften heard him sing that song; I would rather it had been any one else, but I don't think he would ill-treat us now. "

Dick shouted to Bill to come with his light. Just at that moment whilethey were waiting for Bill's answer, there was a loud, thundering crash, with a fearful shriek and cries for help. 

"The roof has fallen in, and Bill is buried under it. Oh, let us pushon, and see if we cannot help him out, " cried Dick. 

The two boys had groped their way on for some distance, when they sawfar-off the glimmer of a light. 

"That must be Bill's lantern, " said Dick. "He must have set it downbefore the roof fell in on him. "

Bill had ceased shrieking, but they could hear his groans. 

They at last reached the spot. A large mass of coal had fallen, andshut him up in a side passage. Part of it must have fallen on him. Theboys, weak as they were, in vain tried to lift the big lumps of coal offthe young man. They soon saw that they might very likely, in so doing, bring down more on their own heads, and that it would be better to hurryon to get help. Dick entirely forgot all the ill-treatment he hadreceived from Bill, and overcoming the fatigue he had been feeling, ranon, with the help of Bill's lamp, towards the place where he expected tofind men at work, dragging poor David along with him. He felt Davidgrowing heavier and heavier. At last, without uttering a sound, down hesank by his side. Was he really dead? He held the light to hisfriend's pale face. He breathed. There was only one thing to be done. He dragged him to the side of the gallery, out of the way of any rolley, which might by chance come by, and ran on to where he thought he heardsome men at work. He shouted out. The first man who appeared was hisfather. He told him that he had found David. 

"What alive?" asked Samuel. 

"Yes, father; but he won't be if we don't make haste; and besides himthere is Bill Hagger, with a heap of coals over him. "

On hearing this, Samuel Kempson called all the men near to go to theassistance of David and Bill, while one ran to summon a deputy viewer todirect what was to be done to release Bill. As soon as they reachedDavid, Samuel lifted him up in his arms, and hurried with him to thefoot of the shaft, accompanied by Dick. When he got there, he beggedthat he might be drawn up at once, that he might take the boy to hismother. They got into the corve, and were drawn up, up, up the deepshaft. When they reached the mouth of the pit, the fresh air broughtback the colour to David's cheeks, and he opened his eyes for a moment, but quickly shut them, dazzled by the rays of the sun which was tryingto pierce the murky atmosphere. This, however, showed that there wassome life in the boy; and in better spirits than at first, Samuelhurried along to the widow, that he might restore her son to her. Shehad been over and over again to the pit's mouth to inquire for her boy, and had to go back to look after her other children. 

One of them playing in front of the door, saw the Kempsons coming along:"Here comes Dick Kempson and his father with a little dead boy in hisarms, " cried the child. 

The poor widow, her heart sinking with dread, ran out of the cottage, expecting to see David's lifeless body. 

"Here he is, Mrs Adams, all right, " exclaimed Samuel, as he drew near. The change from grief to joy, as she saw her boy stretching out his armstowards her, was almost too much for her strength, and she burst intotears as she took him from Kempson and pressed him to her bosom. Whenshe recovered a little, she began to pour out her thanks to Samuel--

"Oh don't thank me, Mrs Adams, it was Dick found your boy, and if ithad not been for him, he would have died--no doubt about that, " answeredSamuel. 

"And I should have been very, very sorry, if I hadn't found him, that Ishould Mrs Adams, " said Dick quietly. "You know what friends we are. Now I dare say he would like to have a wash and go to bed. "

"Thank ye, Dick--I would, mother, " murmured David, who by this time hadbeen brought into the house and placed in a chair. 

"I would give him a little broth or tea, Mrs Adams, and he'll come allright soon, " said Samuel, as he and his son left the cottage to returnto the mine. 

"Bless you, bless you, my boy, " said the widow, as she watched Dick fromthe window for a moment: and she didn't say those words with her mouthonly, but with her whole heart. 

Samuel would have sent Dick home, but he begged that, though he wastired, he might go back to learn how it had fared with poor Bill Hagger. 

"But I thought that Bill Hagger was one of your greatest enemies. Heseemed always to be ill-treating you, " observed Samuel. 

"So he did, father, " answered Dick. "But don't you mind what themissionary said the other day? `We should love our enemies and do goodto them that despitefully use us and hate us. '"

"So he did, Dick, to be sure; and I've often thought since then, what ahard matter it must be to do it. "

"He said that we must pray for God's help and grace, father, and thatthen we shall be able to do what now seems so hard, " was Dick's answer. 

On reaching the bottom of the shaft, and going on a little way, they metsome men carrying Bill Hagger, who had been got out from under the coal, but so dreadfully mangled, that it did not seem possible he could live. 

Samuel now went back to work with his pick, and Dick returned to thecharge of his trap. 

STORY SIX, CHAPTER 5. 

Day after day Dick sat by the side of his trap, all in the dark and byhimself, opening and shutting it, as the corves and rolleys came by, andSamuel worked away as usual with his pick and spade. Though not asstrong as many of the other hewers, he made as much as any one else bykeeping at his work. The missionary continued to come to the villageoccasionally on the Sunday, but many of the men were absent that day, orwould not come to hear. He was a man very earnest in his work. Hisgreat object was so to preach the gospel, that his hearers mightunderstand and accept the offers it makes. He therefore considered howhe might best get the ears of all the people in the district. Few men, knowing the dangers of a coal mine, would go down a second time forpleasure; but hearing that all the labourers collected in one place toeat their meals, he got leave to go down to read the Bible and preach tothem all that time. They understood from this that he really wished todo them good; and in the course of a week or two there were very few whodid not try to attend to what he said. Some few did much more thanthat, they repented--they turned to Christ--they put their whole trustin Him. Happy was it for those few who did so. 

Dick was now becoming a biggish boy, and he hoped soon to be made aputter. He did not like the work a bit more than before. He could nothelp thinking of the green fields he remembered playing in when he was alittle boy, and he ofttimes sighed for them; but his parents wanted himto work in the mines, and so it was his duty to stay on where he was. At last he was made a putter, and had, with two other boys, to push andpull along the rolleys. He had been about a week at the work, when oneday, as he was going ahead of a laden rolley, he slipped, and beforethose behind saw what had happened, the rolley went over his foot. Heshrieked out, for the pain was very great, and it seemed as if his footwas smashed to pieces. "I shall be a cripple all my life, like poorLawry; oh dear, oh dear!" was his first thought. 

His companions put him on the rolley and took him to the foot of theshaft. He was soon drawn up to the pit's mouth, when the banksman gottwo men to carry him home on a stretcher, and sent for the doctor. 

"Oh, Dick, Dick, what is the matter? Another of my boys a cripple!"cried poor Mrs Kempson, when the men brought him in and placed him onhis bed. 

Dick could scarcely speak for the pain. 

"Don't know, mother. Hope not, " he could just murmur out. 

"Was there ever so unfortunate a woman as I am? my poor boy! my poorboy!" she cried, trying to cut off Dick's boot and stocking, which wascovered with blood. 

The doctor came at last, and said that he was afraid it would be a longtime before Dick could use his foot; but that, if he took care, he mightrecover entirely. 

Samuel, who had been hewing at the end of a long gallery far away fromthe foot of the shaft, only heard of the accident to his boy on his wayhome. Once he would have grumbled very much. Now he only thought ofpoor Dick's pain, and not at all of the loss of his wages, and theadditional mouth he would have to feed. Dick was more sorry for hisfather and mother than for himself. David came, whenever he could, tosee him, and he amused himself by cutting-out models, as he did when hewas ill before. He could now also read well, but he and David had readthrough and through all their books and the tracts which the missionaryhad left them. They were therefore very thankful when he came again;and hearing how much Dick wanted books, left them several nicemagazines. Some had beautiful pictures. Neither Dick nor David hadever seen anything which they thought so fine. When Dick heard from themissionary that the pictures were made from carvings on blocks of wood, he said that he should like to learn so curious an art. The missionary, seeing this, explained how it was done; and Dick forthwith drew a rolleyon a block, and cut away all the white wood between the lines. Then herubbed over the raised parts with lamp black, and pressed it down on apiece of white paper. There, to his delight, was the drawing of arolley. It was not very well done, but Lawry and David thought a greatdeal of it. 

The missionary smiled when he saw it. "A very good beginning, my boy. Persevere, and it may be that you may make some use of your talent inthis way, " he observed. 

Dick had not, however, learned to do much better before the doctor saidthat he thought his foot was healed enough to let him go to work in afew days. Dick was eager to go at once, but Samuel said that he muststay at play a few days longer. Dick had no love for his task in thepit, but he felt that as he was fed he ought to work as soon as hecould. At last it was arranged that Dick should go to work the nextMonday. 

Samuel kissed his younger children, as he was about to start with hiseldest boy to his work. 

"We'll have you with us, Dick, all right and strong next week. You areto be a half-marrow, I hear. Well, it's better than sitting at a trapall day. " He said, as he went out, looking back with a pleasant smile, "Good-bye, all. "

"He's a kind father, and he is much kinder and gentler than he used tobe before the missionary came, " thought Dick, as Samuel disappearedround the corner of the street. 

Samuel Kempson went on his way to the pit's mouth, where a number ofother men collected, ready to go down as soon as the banksman calledthem. 

It was a fine morning; the sun was just rising in the clear sky out fromthe far-off sea. Samuel drew a breath of the pure morning air, andgazed round at the blue sky and glorious sun, as he stepped off into thecorve, in which, with many others, he was to descend the shaft. BillHagger, who had completely recovered from his accident, and was now ahewer, was among his companions. Bill, unhappily, was not among thosewho willingly listened to the missionary. He was the same rough, coarsebeing as before, a constant visitor at the ale-house, a fearful swearer, and ready at all times for any mischief. There were too many like him. 

Samuel and the others having got their picks newly sharpened, and theirspades, went to the lamp-house for their lamps. These were handed tothem, carefully locked, so that they might not open the lamp and exposethe flame to the surrounding air. They were driving a new gallery, andas a good deal of fire-damp was likely to come out, it was necessary tobe very careful. 

Samuel passed David Adams, who was still a trapper, on his way to histrap. David asked after Dick. 

"He'll be down with us in a few days, I hope, " was the answer, in acheerful tone. 

Nearly two hundred human beings were toiling away down in those long, narrow passages. Some with pick-axes were getting out the huge lumps ofcoal from the solid vein, others were breaking them up and shovellingthem into the baskets. The putters were dragging or pushing the basketstowards a main road, where they were received by the "crane-hoister, "who, with his crane, lifted them on the rolley-wagons. These weredragged along a tramway by sleek, stout ponies to the foot of the shaft, under charge of a wagoner. 

Other men were engaged at the foot of the shaft, hooking on the corvesfull of coal to be drawn up by the machinery above. There were threeshafts. At the bottom of one was a large furnace kept always burningthat it might assist to draw down the pure air from above and send thebad air upwards. Down another shaft was a huge pump, pumping up thewater which got into the mine. The third shaft was that by which themen chiefly went up and down, and the coals were drawn up, though thefurnace shaft could also be used for that purpose. There were men totend the furnaces, and stable-men to look after the horses, andlamp-men, and blacksmiths to sharpen the tools and mend the iron-work ofthe wagons, and rolley-way-men to keep the roads in order, besidesseveral for other sorts of jobs. All these were busy working away attheir several posts. Samuel Kempson was among the hewers farthest fromthe main shaft. Near him was Bill Hagger. They had been working forsome hours when the welcome sound of blows on the trap-doors told themthat dinner and drink time had arrived. Leaving their tools, theyunhooked the lamps, which hung on nails above their heads, and hastenedto the drink place, an open space to which their dinners were broughtfrom the shaft on rolleys, chiefly in basins done up in handkerchiefs, each having his proper mark. Some had the first letters of their names, others bits of different coloured cloth, others buttons. Each manhaving found his dinner, took his seat, when Samuel became aware thathis friend the missionary was present. He was standing with his back tothe wall, and some candles fixed to a tree, or support, near him. Allwere silent. Having read a chapter in the Bible, the missionaryearnestly entreated them to seek the Lord while He might be found. Itwas an impressive discourse, and the missionary himself had often causeto think of it afterwards. The dinner-time was soon over, and thelabourers hastened back to their work, and the missionary returned tothe world above. 

Kempson had been pecking away for some time, when Bill Hagger, who wasnext to him, ceased working. "I want my blow of baccy, " he said, comingup to Samuel. "That missioner chap put me off it, and that's what Iwon't stand, so I'm going to have it now. "

"What can make you think of such a mad thing, Bill?" exclaimed Samuel. "You know it's against orders to light a pipe, and good reason too, fora spark might blow us all to pieces in a moment. I smell the fire-dampat this moment, you haven't got matches, I hope?"

"No; but I've got a key to open my lamp, " answered Bill, producing asmall key from a concealed pocket. 

"Don't be mad, Bill, " cried Kempson. "You know that you've no businessto have that key. As sure as you open your lamp you'll blow yourselfand me into bits, and may be everybody in the mine, for I never felt itfuller of gas than it is to-day. Just think, Bill, where our souls areto go; for the gas can't blow them to pieces, remember that. "

"I'm not going to be put off by any of your talk, " answered Bill, in asurly tone, filling his pipe. 

Having done so, before poor Kempson could stop him, he had opened hissafety lamp, and put in the bowl of his pipe to light it. In an instantthere was a fearful report, a sheet of fire flew along the gallerieshere, there, and everywhere through the pit, bursting open the traps, tearing off huge fragments of the coal, overthrowing pillars andsupports, and sweeping to destruction the helpless human beings itovertook in its course. Those more distant from the first part of theexplosion heard it coming, and knew too well its dreadful import. Theytried to fly towards the foot of the shaft. There only could they hopefor safety; but what hope had they of reaching it with those fieryblasts rushing through every roadway and passage, and the destructivechoke-damp rising rapidly on all sides?

David Adams was sitting at his trap ready to open it, for he heard agang of putters coming along, when a loud, deafening roar sounded in hisears. The door was shaken violently, but resisted the shock, though hefelt the hot air coming through the crevices. Loud cries arose on everyside from the neighbouring passages. The putters rushed on, leavingtheir wagons, and forced open the trap. David, seizing his lamp, rushedout with them. His first impulse was to cover up his head with hiscoat, then to draw his comforter over his mouth and nose, for he alreadysmelt the too-well-known stench of the choke-damp. Some of hiscompanions, in their fright, turned the wrong way. He and others pushedon towards the shaft. They had not gone far when they came upon severalmen, some had fallen, overcome by the choke-damp; others were sittingdown, pointing, with looks of terror, at a mass of brick-work which hadfallen in, stopping their advance; while through it came a stream ofgas, which it was clear would soon fill the passage. The stench wasevery moment growing stronger and stronger. "We must go back, we mustgo back, " was the cry from those still able to move. 

There was another way to the shaft, through the passage at which Davidhad been placed. Some of the stronger men led the way, the putters wentnext, and David was last. Before they could reach the passage, forwhich they were aiming, the main way was filling rapidly withchoke-damp. Now one of the men leading fell, now another, and the resthad to pass over their bodies. To stop to try and help them would havebeen to give up their own lives without doing any good. David sawseveral of the putters, strong, hearty lads, drop down by his side, while he was able to keep on from having his mouth covered up, and fromattempting to breathe only where the air seemed purest. 

The survivors, a small party only, now reached the end of the passage, and ran on, driven on by the air, which was rushing along it. There washope for them in that direction if no fresh explosion should take place. But the danger was still very fearful. The fire-damp might any momentfind the broken lamp of a dying man, and explode, causing furtherdestruction on every side. On the men sped; now one, now anotherdropped. The remainder still pressed on. There were a hundred yards ormore between them and the foot of the shaft. It seemed a vast distanceto go over, when any moment the whole mine might be a sea of fire. Eventhere safety might not be found. 

Hitherto young David had been preserved, but now he felt his strengthfailing. The hot air was coming up behind. He sprang forward, hethought that he was near the shaft. Cries, and groans, and loud, roaring, hissing sounds were in his ears. All thought and feelingpassed from him. Not a human voice was heard throughout the longgalleries and passages of the mine, lately so full of active life. Thebodies of the men were there charred and withered, and the only soundwas the roar of the escaping gas, as it caught fire and exploded in thefar-off passages of the mine. 

STORY SIX, CHAPTER 6. 

Dick had wandered out in the afternoon to get a little more of the freshair than he could find in the hot street of the village. Not that therewas what would be called fresh air in other parts of the country. Eventhe purest air was full of smoke and coal-dust and gas. He sat himselfdown to rest on a stone wall, and his eye wandered over the scene. There were the tall chimneys sending forth wreaths and clouds of smoke, and the odd shaped buildings, and the cranks and the beams moving up anddown without ceasing, as if they could never get tired, and the railwaysin all directions, with train after train of coal wagons moving rapidlyover them, some loaded, and others flying back empty from whence theycame. He had been sitting there for some time, when he saw, by the waythat people were running towards the pit's mouth, that something waswrong. He got up, and as fast as his lame foot would let him, hurriedin the same direction. Too soon he learned what had happened. Therehad been a fearful explosion. The corve, or basket, by which the menwent up and down the shaft, had been knocked to pieces, and even themachinery over the pit had been injured. Of all those working below itwas believed that not one could have escaped. 

Dick's heart sickened when he heard this. His father, his eldestbrother, and his friend, David Adams, were all below. Besides them, heknew all the people working in the pit; men and boys, they all camebefore him as he had last seen them, and now not one alive!

"Oh yes, yes; surely there must be some who have escaped, " he cried out, when he was told that all had been killed. 

The sad news quickly spread, and numbers of women and children camerushing from the village; wives to ask for their husbands, mothers fortheir sons, girls for their fathers and brothers, or intended husbands. They kept running about without bonnets or shawls, their hair streamingin the wind, and frantically crying as they stretched out their hands tothe banksman and viewers and other officers, "Where are they? where arethey? Why don't they come up?" It would have softened the hardestheart to have seen the grief, the agony of the poor women. No one couldanswer them. It was not the first time such a thing had happened, evenin that pit. They all knew too well the effect of the fire-damp, andstill more destructive choke-damp. 

"Is no one going down to bring them up?" was the question next asked. 

"Yes, some one will go, I dare say, as soon as it's safe; but it wouldnot do to go yet, " answered the banksman. "Besides, the gear is knockedto pieces. "

This reply only increased the alarm of the poor women, but they wereobliged to be content with it. 

Dick pressed forward, and asked if any one had come up. No; no one hadcome up since the morning. 

"Then, may I go down?" he asked of one of the viewers. 

"You are the lad who went by yourself to look for the boy Adams someyears ago, when he was lost, I remember, " answered the viewer. "Yes, you shall go with me presently, if you wish it. "

A fresh corve was fitted, and the gear put in order. The viewer steppedin, there were two other volunteers. Dick followed. Each person had asafety lamp in his hand. They went down very slowly, for it wasprobable that the shaft itself might be injured. They had not got farwhen a stream of water, which had burst out of the side, came pouringdown on them, and almost filled the corve. The rushing sound, and theforce with which the water fell, deafened and confused them. Still theypersevered. Hot air, and noxious vapours, and steam, and smoke camerushing up. They went down through it all. Some of theirfellow-creatures might be below. They would save them if they could. At last they reached the bottom of the shaft. The furnace was stillblazing away. Beyond all was darkness and gloom, though the pale lightof their lamps showed them the ruin caused by the explosion. 

The viewer shouted out, "Is any one alive?"

They stopped and listened anxiously. There was a faint cry, which camefrom not far off. 

"I heard a groan also, " said the viewer. "There may be several alive, Ihope. "

The brave little band moved on, knowing well that each step theyadvanced the danger was increased. 

"Here is a poor fellow, " cried the viewer, who was looking into a hollowcut in the wall. Dick hoped that it might be his father or brother, butit was a man he knew little about. He was alive, but hurt from havingbeen blown into the place where he was found, and appeared to have losthis senses. He was carried to the foot of the shaft and placed in thecorve. Two other men crawled up on hearing the shout, but they werevery weak, and could only say that they believed all the rest werekilled. 

The overseer told Dick that he might go up with them, but he begged sohard to remain that he might look for his father, that two men were sentinstead. 

While the overseer was securing the men in the corve, Dick once morewent along the main gallery. He had not gone far when he saw in ahollow, a figure crouching down. It was that of his friend David Adams. Was he alive? He lifted him up and carried him along in his armstowards the shaft. Already he felt the choke-damp in his throat; he wasstumbling, too, with the weight of his burden. He felt that he couldnot move another yard, for his knees were bending under him. 

"Run, run to the shaft, " he heard a voice say. "I'll take him on. " Itwas the viewer, who, throwing the body of young Adams over hisshoulders, seized Dick with the other hand and dragged him on. Theircompanion had disappeared. In vain they shouted for him, while theyanxiously waited for the return of the corve to carry them up. To goback into the passages already full of poisonous air, would have beenmadness. Dick, notwithstanding, was eager to go back to try and findhis father and brother. Had not the viewer prevented him, he would havemade the attempt and perished. Even where they were, it was withdifficulty they breathed. Dick, as he looked at his friend's face, calmand quiet, was afraid that he had lost him too. At last the corve camedown, and the viewer and Dick lifting in David's body, were drawn up. 

Poor Mrs Adams was among those in the front surrounding the pit. Sheat once knew her son, and clasping him in her arms, gave way to hergrief, calling him to come to life. 

"Let the doctor see him, dame, " said several voices. "May be he is notso far gone as you think. "

On this the surgeon stepped forward and had David carried out of thecrowd, who prevented him from breathing the fresh air, which, if aperson is not dead, is more likely than anything else to restore thepower of breathing. 

Meantime Mrs Kempson, among the other women, had come up. 

"Oh! my husband! my husband! where is he? Dick, my boy, have you foundyour father and Tom? Where is your brother, boy?" Such were thequestions asked by numbers of the unhappy women. 

Dick could only shake his head and burst into tears. 

From the report of the viewer, the engineers declared that it would bedangerous to go down the pit again till the ventilation was set torights, and that all hope of finding any of those below still alive wasgone. 

STORY SIX, CHAPTER 7. 

There was deep sorrow and tears and groans in the mining village ofWallford that night. Those who had gone forth to their work in themorning in health and spirits, the bread-winners of the family, werenever to return. The widows and orphans sorrowed for husbands andfathers, and it was natural that they should sorrow for themselves. 

Among those who had good cause to look forward with dread to the future, was Mrs Kempson, and yet she did not fear it as once she would havedone. She believed that her husband had fully accepted Christ'sgracious offer of salvation, and that he was prepared for death; and shealso knew that God protects the fatherless and widows who trust in Him. Still she had a good deal to try her faith. 

Dick was the only one of the family who could work for their support; hecould gain but little, and she trembled when she thought that any dayhe, too, might be cut off. He, like a good son, was doing his best tocomfort her. 

"Don't take on so, mother, don't take on so, " he said, putting his armround her neck. "I shall soon be big enough to work as a hewer, and youshan't want while I can earn good wages, and God will look after us all. Don't fear, mother, don't fear. "

Dick had not forgotten his friend David, but, while attending to hismother, he had had no time to ask about him. He now said that he wouldgo out to see Mrs Adams, and learn if he had recovered. 

Dick looked in at Mrs Adams's open window. It was a comfort to him inhis own sorrow to see his friend sitting up, though looking very ill. He felt inclined to go away again without speaking, but Mrs Adams sawhim, and, coming out, brought him in. 

"You have saved my boy's life twice, Dick, " she exclaimed. "I can'tthank you enough, and never can. But David and I and all of us can prayfor you. God will reward you. He will bless you. "

There had been cries and shrieks and tears on the day of the explosion. A still sadder day was that when, the mine being put in order, thebodies were brought up from below, and the poor women came round toclaim their husbands and sons. 

It was difficult to recognise some of the bodies, but the full number ofthose who had been working in the pit were found, and hope left thehearts of those who had trusted till now that by some means those theyloved had escaped. 

Dick set to work as soon as the pit was open, and toiled on bravely;still all his wages could only just support his mother and brothers andsisters. 

Bad times came too, made bad by the folly of the people themselves. Themen in some of the collieries made up their minds that they would gethigher wages. They banded themselves together, and tried to make thepeople of all the collieries in the district join them. When David andDick heard of it, they agreed that they were content with their wages, and that all the men about them were well off, and that they would go onworking without grumbling. 

They had not their choice, however. There was a general strike of thelabourers underground and above ground throughout the whole district, and the pits were closed. They, and others who had not joined theleague, were threatened with severe punishment if they offered to work. 

Mrs Kempson and Mrs Adams and many other widows were in a sad way. They had saved but little money, so they soon spent all they had. Thenthey had to pawn some of their things, and then they had to go oncredit, hoping that the lads would soon go to work again. Food wasrunning very short. They could barely afford bread and cheese; oftenthey ate nothing but dry bread and drank warm water, for the tea was soweak it was little better. 

Mrs Kempson, who had for so long lived well, felt as if she was dyingof hunger. Dick was pretty nearly starving also. He had not been idlethough, as had most of the people, for he had been hard at work makingall sorts of models. 

"I'll take them to Newcastle, to-morrow. May be I'll get something forthem, mother, and bring back food for you and the rest; if not, I'lllook out for some other sort of work. I'm determined to be at play nolonger, to please any set of men. "

The miners always speak of being at play, when they are not at work. 

Just then a young man, well dressed in seafaring style, passed thewindow. 

"Do any people of the name of Kempson live hereabouts?" Dick heard himsay. 

"Yes, sir, " said Dick. "That's our name. What do you want?"

The young man made no answer, but walked in and sat down on a chair MrsKempson offered him. He looked round for a minute without speaking--first at Mrs Kempson, then at Limping Lawry, then at little Nelly, andthen at the other children, and over and over again at Dick. 

"I think that I have seen you all before; but it was years ago, " he saidat last, and his voice trembled. "Some time back, as I was reading anaccount of a dreadful accident which happened in one of the coal-pitshereabouts, I saw the name of Samuel Kempson and his son Benjamin amongthe list of sufferers. "

"Yes, sir; those were my poor husband and son, " said Mrs Kempson, witha sigh, and the tears came to her eyes. 

"Did you ever live in Suffolk?" asked the stranger. "Yes, sir; and Iwish that we had never left it, " answered Susan. 

"And had you a son you called Jack?" inquired the visitor. 

"Yes, I had; I had a fine hearty boy, but he went away to sea, and Ifear has long since been drowned, " cried Susan, lifting her apron to hereyes. 

"I don't think so, " answered the stranger. "Do you think that youshould know him again?"

"I'm sure I should, my own bright boy. Oh! speak, young man. Who areyou? Don't deceive me, " exclaimed Susan, starting up and taking thestranger's hands. "Are you my son Jack?"

"Indeed I am, mother, " answered Jack Kempson, for the young stranger washer long-lost son. 

He returned her embrace affectionately, and soon all his young brothersand sisters were clustering round him. He had heard of the strike, andof the state of affairs, and guessing that provisions would be welcome, before he could talk further, went out with Dick and got a good supplyfor supper. 

While the family were seated round a better meal than they had had formany a day, he told them how he had gone to sea in a collier runningbetween Newcastle and London; how he then had sailed to far distantlands; how once, when ill-treated by the master, he had made up his mindto quit the sea and had come to look out for work in the mines; how hesoon saw that he should not change for the better. 

"Yes, we know the widow woman you spoke to, and she told us all aboutthe sailor lad, who had come, thinking to get work, and had gone offagain. "

"That is strange, " cried Dick, "that we should have been so near, andnot have seen each other. "

"Well, I went back to the ship, " continued Jack, "and I made up my mindto stick to the sea. I was soon afterwards made second mate, and thenfirst mate; and a year ago, in a foreign voyage, the captain, who wasgiven to drink, fell overboard, and I brought the ship home, and theowners were so pleased that they made me captain. I am now bound backto London, and though I say it's generally best for every man to stickto the trade he is brought up in; yet as the people here won't let Dickwork in it, I want him and you all to come away with me. You cannot beworse off, and you may be much better; and at all events, I have enoughwages to keep you all comfortable. "

Poor Mrs Kempson thankfully accepted her son's offer. A good andaffectionate son he proved. Dick was well pleased to change, but hecould not make up his mind to part from David Adams. 

"I will take him and his mother and the rest of them too, " said thegenerous sailor. "I have saved money, and cannot spend it better thanin helping the widow and orphan. I dare say we shall find some place inthe old county where our mother and Mrs Adams can settle down amonggreen fields, and where you may find work for which you are suited. "

As soon as supper was over, Mrs Kempson and Jack and Dick set off tovisit Mrs Adams. Dick had put up a basket full of provisions--breadand butter, and cheese, and herrings, and tea and sugar, and otherthings which he well knew from experience would be welcome. "This isdoing to others as I would be done by, or indeed as I have been doneby, " he thought. "Yes, God has been very merciful to us--just when wewere well-nigh starved, and now Jack come to life again!"

Mrs Adams was very grateful for the good food Dick had brought. Shedid not at first remember Jack, but he soon convinced her who he was. Great was her joy when the generous young sailor offered to carry herand David and the rest of her children to the neighbourhood of her oldhome. 

"But I can never, never repay you, young man, " she said. 

"Never mind that, " answered Jack, unconsciously looking upwards, "Someone else will. "

A happy party sailed down the river Tyne on board the brig, _Good Hope_, bound for the Thames. The young captain was as good as his word. Little Nelly was sent to an institution, where she was very happy, andwas taught to do many useful things. Limping Lawry went to another, where he recovered his strength, and learned to gain his daily bread;and Dick and David got employment as engineers; and in a few years Dickrose to be foreman of some extensive works, with his old friend as hisassistant.