IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I 1.25 141 1^ IM "S IM 111112I 1^ 2.0 1.8 1.4 1.6 ^ ^>.. /a '< THE LONQ CBOSS SCHOOL. 17 CHAPTER II. THE LONG CROSS SCHOOL. **From the neighboring school come the boys, With more than their wonted noise And commotion." About two miles and a half from Lyn- tonville was the small village of Fair- field, consisting chiefly of one principal street, which led straight across the bridge and up the high bank of the river ; while two rival mills and a few frame houses and shanties, dotted here and there on the opposite side, comprised the whole of the settlement. Standing a short distance back from the top of the steep village street was the little wooden church. It was surrounded by a dark background of pine-trees, which rocked and swayed in the breeze, close by the quiet churchyard, where many a settler I- 18 LYNTONVILLE. from the surrounding country had already been laid to rest. Still further away to the right, was the Long Cross school — a low, rough building, with shingled roof, and wooden walls grown grey by long exposure to wind and weather. It de- rived its name from being situated on the Cross-road, leading through a large cedar swamp, which connected the woods of Lyntonville with those of Fairfield. Had you peeped in at the door, you would have seen boys of all sorts and sizes, rich and poor, at the Long Cross school, for there was no other for many miles round. John and' Charlie Red- fern, the clergyman's sons, Tom Hardy from the drygoods store at the corner, and Philip Quin were all in the same class with Harry Lynton and several others ; and we shall become better ac- quainted with some of them before our story is finished. -*! THE LONG CROSS SCHOOL. 19 One fine spiing morning, Harry was walking leisurely to school, swinging his books by the leathern strap that bound them, when his quick eye spied a flying- squirrel, leaping from bough to bough in a large rock-elm close to the path. Im- mediately he gave chase, and after a long and exciting scramble, which led him far out of his road, he succeeded in securing it under his cap ; and then he hurried on, eager to show his prize to his school- fellows. What was his dismay when he found the door closed, and heard through the open window the busy hum of the boys' voices repeating their lessons. There was no help for it now however, so he tried to slip in quietly unobserved. A class was just going up, and Harry thought he had escaped notice ; but un- fortunately it was by no means the first offence. *'I say, wont you catch it for being rr 20 LYNTONVILLE. late again," whispered his next neigh- bor. "Old Elmslie has been asking for you." "Can't be helped," said Harry. "Fve caught a flying-squirrel." "Oh, do let us see it, Lynton," said Charlie Redfern; "where is it?" "It's in my pocket; I can't show it to you now. It will be off, if I do n't take care. 11 "I say, what's the fun?" telegraphed another from an opposite form. . Harry drew a rough sketch on his slate and held it up. "Silence, there," cried Mr. Elmslie from his desk, and instantly the boys were as still as mice. But Harry could think of nothing but his squirrel, which was bobbing about in his pocket, as if it would break bounds every moment. Soon the fifth form was called up ; but not one word of his lesson could Harry LONG GROSS SCHOOL. 21 remember, for the squirrel was still up- permost in his mind. "I say, Phil, do you think it will eat it 's way out?" he whispered. *'What?" said Philip, who knew noth- ing about it. "I've got a flying-squirrel in my pocket. I caught it coming to school." "You^d better not bother about it now, you '11 lose your place if you do n't mind." " Lyjiton," said the master, "you know the rules; go to the foot of the class, and don't let me have to speak to you again." Harry tried to attend for a few min- utes ; then it struck him that the squirrel had been very still for a long time; could it be dead? He could not resist the temptation of putting his hand very gently into his pocket to see if all was right. Hardly had he done so, when a V !l 22 LYNTONVILLE. bite, sharp enough to draw blood, made him hastily withdraw it, and the little prisoner, taking advantage of the open- ing, sprang out of his pocket, and leaped first on the master's desk, where it upset the ink on his books and papers; then settled on little Percy Hamilton's curly head, entangling its claws in his long hair; then freeing itself with a struggle and a bound, it cleared the open window, and was off to the shelter of its native woods, well pleased no doubt to be let out of school. The boys shouted ; those who were in the secret laughing heartily at poor Harry's misfortune, while the others, completely mystified at the sud- den commotion, asked each other what it all meant. Even Mr. Elmslie's voice failed in quieting them for some moments ; but order being at length restored, Harry was told to stand oat. "Now, sir," said the master, "what 'l,iHliii'~~TiW MM mmmi LONG CROSS SCHOOL. 23 am I to say to you for causing all this damage and disturbance?" Harry stood silent, and the matter ended by his having to spend that long bright half-holiday alone in the Long Cross school, with all his lessons to learn over again. But although Harry was inclined to be idle sometimes, he had nevertheless many good points in his character. He was open-hearted and generous ; and in any case of oppression or wrong-doing among his school-fellows, he was sure u> stand up for the right. It so happened that when Philip Quin first joined the school, he incurred the dislike of Tom Hardy, one of the biggest and most unpopular of the boys. For a long time. Hardy, who was not wanting in quickness and ability, had been con- sidered head of the fifth, or highest form ; but he took advantage of his standing to r n mM 24 LYNTONVILLE. bully his companions. Yery soon after Philip joined however, Hardy found his position becoming more and more unten- able every day, and before many weeks had passed he was completely outdone. In consequence. Hardy lost no opportu- nity of annoying and holding him up to ridicule, on the score of his poverty, which was only too plainly betrayed by his patched and threadbare coat. One day Hardy was more than usually coarse and rude in his conduct to Philip in the playground, who bore it very meekly, though his pale face glowed with the bright flush of suppressed feeling. Presently Harry was attracted by the loud tones oi Hardy's voice, and though he did not know much of Philip at that time he could not calmly see the weak oppressed. "Come now. Hardy, you just stop that, will you," said he; *'Pm not going to stand it." «3MM LONG CROSS SCHOOL. 25 " Then just take yourself ofiF, and leave me to mind my own business," said Har- dy. "If you don't look out I'll pitch into you, my boy." Some of the lads burst out laughing at this speech, for they all knew that Hardy's words were much more valiant than his deeds. "Come on then," said Harry, "let's have it out, for you sha'n't bother Quin any more if I can help it." "Oh don't, Lynton, pray don't fight on my account ; what he says does me no harm, and I don't mind ; please don't ;" and Philip looked distressed. By this time however, Harry's coat was off, and a ring of boys had gathered around the combatants ; most of them rallying round Harry, though one or two sided with his opponent. Hardy, like most bullies, was a sad coward, and he was rather fright- ened when he saw the turn affairs had LYNTONVILLE. taken ; but he felt that if he showed the white feather now, he would lose his po- sition in the playground as well as in his class, so with a great deal of bluster he prepared to fight his young antagonist. Several blows were struck on both sides, and Harry succeeded in punishing Har- dy severely, though a bruised face and black eye proved that he himself had not escaped in defending the weak. At this moment Mr. Elmslie rather unexpected- ly made his appearance. "Now, boys, what's all this about?" said he very gravely. ' Go, Lynton, and wash your face, and then come into school, where I will speak to you, which I cannot do in your present state." Harry walked ofif, looking very deplorable. ''Who was the other?" continued Mr. Elmslie, looking round, but Hardy had contrived to slip off unobserved, and was not to be seen. LONG CROSS SCHOOL. 27 "If you please, sir," said Philip, coin- ing forward and speaking very earnest- ly, "don't blame Lynton', for he did it out of kindness ; indeed he did, sir, though I begged him not." " A strange way of showing kindness, truly. And are you mixed up in this affair too, Quin ? I should not have be- lieved it possible," said Mr. Elmslie, in evident displeasure. Philip colored, and did not know what to say, for he could not bear to have his friend suffer unjustly, while he did not like to allude to Hardy's provoking and unkind taunts about his poverty. He stood silent for a moment, and then said, very respectfully, "If you please, sir, may I explain ? Hardy was teasing me, and Harry took ray part, which led to the fight." " There seems to have been very small provocation, Quin j and as I entirely dis- f 28 LYNTONVI'LE. approve of the practice, I shall certainly make examples of Lynton and Hardy." ** Oh, sir," cried Charlie Redfern, a bright little fellow of eleven, who was never afraid of speaking his mind ; " Oli, Mr. Elmslie, it would n't be fair, indeed it would n't. Hardy is a big bully, and he is always going on at Quin about being poor, and I do n't know what all. It 's more than any fellow can stand, sir ; and it 's all because he gets above him in school. It 's a downright shame the way he goes on, and Lynton said he would n't stand it any longer, for Quin bears it so meekly and never says a word. It's Hardy that 's to blame if any one is ; you would have thought so yourself, sir, if you had been here." And he stopped, breathless with his long speech. *'Is this the case, boys?" *'Yes, sir." **It is really, sir," cried several voices together. LONG CROSS SCHOOL. 29 "Well, then," said Mr. Elmslie as Harry reappeared, " that alters the case. I am glad to find, Lynton, that you are not SO much to blame in this matter as I imagined at first; but, boys, I wish I could teach you to remember that this is not the way to settle disputes, or make wrong come right. I am very thankful, Quin, to find that you do not harbor ill- will, or desire to resent an injury. I trust the disposition to bear meekly with insults proceeds Irom a truly noble effort on your part, my boy," and Mr. Elmslie looked kindly at Philip; "I mean an effort to follow in the steps of Him who was meek and lowly in heart, and forgave every trespass. As for Hardy, he must be differently dealt with." 30 LYNTONVILLE. CHAPTER III. SIGHTS IN THE WOOD. "There 's not a leaf within the bower, There 's not a bird upon the tree, There 'd not a dew-drop on the flower, But bears the impress, Lord, of thee. Yes, dew-drops, leaves, and birds, and all The smallest like the greatest things, The sea's vast space, the earth's wide ball, Alike proclaim thee King of kings." From the day of the fight, Hariy and Philip had been fast friends, and many a pleasant expedition they had together. Harry's open, fearless character had a good influence upon Philip, who was timid and sensitive; while Philip's high principles and thoughtful piety were a check upon Harry's natural heedless- ness. One Saturday, being a holiday, Harry ran off as usual to seek his friend ; and when he reached the cottage, he found him sitting in an arbor in the gar- SIGHTS IN THE WOOD. 81 den reading. This little retreat was the work of Philip's own hands, and he had spent many busy hours in its construc- tion. He could even tell the spot where each knotted stick and fir-cone and curi- ous pebble had been found. When at length the last nail was driven in, and *he had really completed his long-cher- ished design, his delight was great, and he was proud indeed when his mother promised to honor his little edifice by drinking tea there with him the first evening after it was finished. Harry's emulation had been roused by the suc- cessful labors of his companion, and he too had attempted something of the same kind ; but he soon bec0,me weary of his work, and gave it up, like many other things which he had thrown aside in the same way. Philip looked up as Harry's shadow fell on his open book. 32 LYNTONVILLE. 11 "Oh, Harry," said he, " are you going for a walk V^ "Yes," cried Harry, "come along; it 's so jolly in the woods to-day, and we shall find ever so many thinge." Philip went in to tell his mother, and then joined his friend, and the two lads set off together. The woods certainly* were very inviting, for flowers of every hue sprang up at their feet, and every little hillock was carpeted with soft moss- es and crowned with the delicate fronds of the oak-fern or the glossy black stems of the maiden-hair. Large lily -like plants, called by the Indians "deaths," on account of the deadly poison which lurks beneath their fair appearance, nod- ded their be,autiful snowy or chocolate- colored blossoms in the breeze. The sun- light shimmered and glanced through the waving boughs, brightening the little nooks and dells, here flecking the sober .IGHTS IN THE WOOD. pines with its golden gleam, there kiss- ing the ripe red strawberries scattered in abundance over the ground. But amid all these beauties Philip looked grave and out of spirits ; and at length he said, "It was this day three years ago that my father died." "Do you remember him?^^ asked Harry. "Oh, yes, quite well. I was ten then, and we had just come over from Ireland, mamma, and papa, and Edith — that was my little sister — and our old nurse No- rah. I remember so well, the day we arrived at Montreal, seeing the squaws come on board ship with their baskets and moccasins for sale. I was fright- ened rather, and so was Edie, until mam- ma told us all about them. Well, we staid there some time, and then papa heard of a farm that would suit him, and it was while we were on our journey to T^rntoiiTllto. 3 34 LYNTONVILLE. the place, I forget the name, that papa was taken ill of cholera and died. Then Edie took it, and old Norah, and they were all buried in the same gravc.'^ "Oh Philip; how dreadful." "Yes," said Philip, "it was a dread- ful time. And afterwards mamma was very ill; and when she got better we came here. I remember Edie and I had ponies in the old country, and we used to ride with papa very often. I never had a shabby coat then;" and Philip looked down- at his well-worn sleeves, patched in more than one place; "but that doesn't matter," he added hastily, "it's mamma that I care about. If I were only a man, I could earn something to make her more comfortable." "Well," said Harry, "you are so smart that you will be able to do it some day. It's my belief you could teach a school as well as Mr. Elmslie now." ■'^mmm. SIGHTS LN THE WOOD. 86 Thus chatting together, Philip became more cheerful, and the two boys kept along the edge of the forest for some dis- tance, gathering the strawberries, and fill- ing their hands with the different wild flow- ers that tempted them on at every step. "I say, look here," said Harry, "the mandrakes are out;" and he lifted one of the broad twin-leaves of a curious- looking plant, and showed Philip a large white waxen flower, like a wild rose, growing close to the foot-stalk, which had been hidden from sight. *^ We must mark the place, and come here when the fruit is ripe." " What is it like r said Philip. "It is about the size of an egg, and has a thick yellow skin, with seeds like a gooseberry. It 's first-rate, I can tell you. Suppose we go further into the wood now, we sha'n't find much more out here/* 1\ 8G LYNTONVILLE. "What^s this?" said Philip as he stooped to pick up something that looked like a tobacco-pipe curiously carved in wax, stuck into the ground bowl upwards, at the foot of a pine. '* Oh, I 'm so glad you Ve found one," cried Harry; **it must be the 'Indian pipe' old Mike told me about. I believe it 's nothing but a fungus ; see, it 's turn- ing black already. Did n't it look just as if some one had put it there and for- gotten it?" *' Oh, did you see that bird ?" exclaim- ed Philip abruptly ; " it was bright scar- let, and passed like a flash of fire." " It 's a tannager ; but it is not all scar- let; it has black wings, I know, because papa has one stuffed. Yes, there he goes; and there's a blue jay. Hark! do you hear his scream ?" And so, attracted by one strange sight after another, the boys wandered on xMwv^iliin;. gASiSk*' SIGHTS IN THE WOOD. 87 deeper and deeper into the forest, until at last Philip said, ** Do n't you think we ought to bo going home, Harry? It must be getting late." They had left the little wood-path a long while before, to pick a flower here and to get a glimpse of a squirrel or bright bird there ; and now, when it was time for them to retrace their steps, they could not remember in which direction they had come. Above and around them were thicL tall trees, so tall that they could only catch a glimpse of the sky now and then, and not a sign of a footpath could they see. Their feet sank deep into the rich soft mould formed by the fallen leaves for hundreds of j^ears, and it seemed as if no other footstep had ever passed that way. The two boys stood still for a moment and con- sulted. "Here's a pretty go," said Harry; I 88 LYNTONVILLE. "I'm sure I don't remember which way we came; do you?" "No," said Philip, looking very much frightened; "the trees are all alike, and there's no path. What shall we do, Hairy?" "Oh, never mind; we'll soon find it. I think it was this way ; we '11 try it, at any rate." They turned in the direction he indi- cated, and walked on for some distance without speaking.. "Do you remember that fallen tree, Harry?" said Quin as they came to a large trunk completely uprooted, lying all across their path. " I can't say I do, Philip. I 'm afraid we 're wrong, after all ; we must go back." Again they turned, and as they went the undergrowth seemed to become thick- er as it brushed past their faces and scratched and tore their clothes, which SIGHTS IN THE WOOD. 39 made them think they were going far- ther and farther into the wood. Up and down they wandered, Harry saying all he could think of to keep up poor Phil-, ip's courage, though it must be confessed his own was fast oozing away, for the time was passing on. It was getting dark, as the sun had nearly set. They felt that the blackness of night would soon be upon them, and they were alone in the great silent forest. Philip held Harry's hand tightly clasped in his own, and they looked at each other without speaking a word. Just then a large bird flew up, and startled them, with its heavy flight, and all was still again j so still that they could almost hear their hearts beat- ing. "Oh, Harry," said Philip at last, "what will my mother do when she finds we don't come back? Do you think we shall ever find our way back?'' 40 LYNTONVILLE. "I don't know," said Harry; "per- haps they '11 look for us ; but I 'm afraid they don't know which way we went. I wonder if any one would hear, if we shouted ?" Again and again they shouted, but the sound only waked the echoes of the for- est, and startled one or two birds that had gone to roost in the trees near ; so they gave it up in despair. Presently Harry said, "Philip, let us kneel down and pray ; perhaps God will help us." They knelt down hand in hand at the foot of a tree, and Philip uttered a few words of earnest prayer that God would take care of them, and bring them back safely to their homes. "When they rose from their knees Philip said, "Do you remember the psalm, Harry, ' Thou com- passest my path and my lying down, and art acquainted with all my ways. The L SIGHTS IN THE WOOD. 41 night slrineth as the day: the darkness and the light are both alike to thee V I do n't think we ought to be afraid, for God is with us here just as much as if we were at home." "But, Philip, suppose we are starved to death!" " Oh but, Harry, we Ve asked God to take care of us ; and I know he will, be- cause he has promised to hear our pray- ers for Christ's sake." The two boys began to feel more hope- ful as, comforting each other, they thus remembered that their Father in heaven was near, however far they might be from their earthly parents' aid. ^;^' H ;■ ■I 42 LYNTONVILLE. CHAPTER IV. A NIGHT IN THE FOREST. "Abide with me ; fast falls the eventide, The darkness thickens ; Lord, with me abide. When other helpers fail, and comforts flee, Help of the helpless. Oh, abide with me." , " I WISH we could light a fire, Harry ; it 's getting very dark, and I 'm so cold.'^ "Ah, that's a capital idea, and I be- lieve we can do it too, for I 've got the matches in my pocket that we were going to use when we fired off the cannon yes- terday." They set to work and gathered a large heap of dry wood, which after many fail- ures they managed to light with some dead leaves, and soon it burned up brightly. The fire was a great comfort, and afforded them some occupation, for A NIGHT IN THE FOEEST. 43 they employed all the little light that was left in making a pile of sticks to keep it up all night. This done, they sat down by it, and tried to make them- selves as comfortable as they could un- der the circumstances. It was now quite dark, and they talked as much as possi- ble, for the dead silence was more than they could bear. Now and then the dry wood crackled and flared up, and as soon as the flame died away they piled on more fuel to keep up a blaze. Sleep of course was out of the question, and they sat there listening to every little sound, and conjuring up all sorts of terrors, both real and imaginary. The rustle of a dead leaf was enough to make them start ; and once, when a wild, unearthly scream broke the stillness of the night, just above their heads, they clung to each other in terrible fear, until they heard the heavy flapping of wings, and remembered it 44 LYNTONVILLE. could be nothing but an owl in search of its prey. Slowly and wearily passed the time; each moment seemed an hour to their excited fancy ; but as the night wore on they became more calm, and Harry had nearly regained his wonted courage, when they heard a heavy, crashing sound, as of some large animal coming through the brushwood. Nearer and nearer it approached, and their hearts died within them ; they hardly dared to breathe, lest the sound should attract the attention of the beast. They each caught up a lighted brand from the fire as the only weapon within reach, and put themselves in an attitude of defence. Presently the bushes on the other side of the fire parted ; they saw two red eyeballs glaring at them, and could just distin- guish the huge outlines of a bear through the gloom. There it stood for some time, A NIGHT IN THE FOREST. 45 evidently not knowing what to make of the unwonted sight of a fiery pile in its hitherto undisturbed haunts; and there stood the boys, motionless, their eyes fixed on the unwelcome invader of their solitude. After a while it gave a low growl, and raising its head, snuffed about as if in search of them ; but at that mo- ment the fire, which was getting low, fell in, and a bright blaze shot up, crackling and sparkling as it rose. This seemed to alarm the bear, which is well known to be a cowardly animal, unless suffering from extreme hunger. It turned with a parting grunt, and slowly trotted off, and they heard its retreating footsteps growing fainter and more faint in the distance. After this they had no further alarms, but the time seemed to pass more tediously than ever, for they feared lest their dreaded enemy should return again. Most thankful were they when the first 46 LYNTONVILLE. it pale streaks of dawning light told them that morning was near, and that the long horrible darkness was past. "It's Sunday morning, Philip," said Harry. **Yes," whispered Philip, "we ought to thank God;" and once again they knelt to render their heartfelt praise for their preservation from the dangers of the night. At length, when it was light enough for them to see each other distinctly, Harry was startled to observe how hag- gard poor Philip looked. He was not a strong boy at any time, and want of food ,for so many hours, combined with the terrors of their situation, had been too much for him; but he said nothing, and they began to look about for wild ber- ries to satisfy their hunger. They could find nothing, however, but a few plants of the Indian turnip. A NIGHT IN THE FOREST. 47 "Do you know, Philip," said Harry, "I've heard that the Indians eat these roots ; but if they are not cooked in one particular way, they hurt one's throat and mouth most fearfully. I believe they roast them. Shall we try? We shall starve if we don't eat something, and there are no berries about here." "Yes, perhaps it would be a good plan," said Philip, "but I can't say I feel very hungry." Harry pulled up some of the roots and washed them in a little stream hard by ; then covering them with the hot wood embers, he piled on more sticks, and left them to roast themselves. "What had we better do?" said he; "shall we try again to find our way back? If we could only get to the river, we should be all" right. You know we could notch the trees, so that we might find the fire again. V 48 LYNTONVILLE. Philip agreed to this proposal, but Harry was shocked to see hira sink back faint as he tried to rise. '• Oh, Philip, dear Philip, what is the matter? What shall I do if you are ill ? Stay, I '11 get some water ;" and hurry- ing down to the tiny stream, he soon came back with some in his cap, and kneeling down he began to bathe Philip's face. It was some time before he opened his eyes. ** There, that's right, old fellow j you'x. be better directl3\ It 's because we have not eaten any thing for so long," said Harry. "I feel very queer too. But how cold you are ;" and in a moment his coat was off, and he was wrapping it round his friend. "Hark ! I heard a shout; I am certain I did," cried he joyfully. They listened intently, and again the welcome sound broke upon their ears. Harry shouted A NIGHT IN THE FOREST. 49 with all his might; and then, to their intense joy, they heard footsteps ap- proaching, and presently the friendly dusky face of old Peter Musk rat, an In- dian well known in the neighborhood, appeared through the trees. Over his shoulder was slung a fawn, and the string of black bass in his hand showed he had been on a foraging expedition. Indeed so good a hunter was he, that Mr. Lyn- ton was accustomed to take him as a guide in his autumn hunting excursions. The boys made him understand that they had lost their way,, and asked him to help them. ''Ughl Lynton good man," said he; "take boys home — ^give Peter blanket- coat for winter. Come — squaw give food — wigwam not far off." Then seeing Philip looked pale and weak, he pro- duced a flask from a sort of birch-bark knapsack, and made hini swallow a L)mtonvnit>. ill I 50 LYNTONVILLE. mouthful of something which took away his breath, and proved to be whisky. Jt revived him, however ; but. as he still lagged behind, old Peter took him up in his strong arms and carried him, while Harry followed with some of the Indian's spoils. After a while they began to hear the roar of the river, and a turn in the path brought them in sight of the Indian camp. It consisted of a few tent-like wigwams, and at the doors, or rather entrances of two or three of them, sat several squaws, some making baskets to sell in the neigh- boring villages, and others engaged in ornamenting their deerskin moccasins with bright -colored beads. They all wore the embroidered leggings and moc- casins of their tribe, but the rest of theii* costume was a motley mixture of civil- ized attire and their own native gar- ments. One old squaw, who proved to ymm&K A NIGHT IN THE FOKEST. 51 be Muskrat's wife, was watching a huge pot, hung over a wood fire by means of stakes driven into the ground, the con- tents of which she stirred now and then with a stick. Old Peter threw down the fawn and the fish at the door of his wig- wam, and speaking to his wife in their own language, they conferred together for some minutes. The b*oys could not help laughing at some of the little baby Indians — papooses as they called them — which were bound in tight swathing bands to a flat piece of birch-bark, and were hung up in any available situation, whence they peered about with their round black eyes. "They are just like the tails of Bo-peep's sheep," said Harry, "all hung on a tree to dry." By this time several more men made their ap- pearance, but took very little notice of the boys beyond the customary "ugh" and a shrug of their broad shoulders. ilBiilU }{ 52 LYNTONVILLE. Presently the old squaw turning out the contents of the great pot into a sort of wooden bowl or platter, they gathered round it, helping themselves with their fingers, while the women kept at a re- spectful distance. Peter gave the two boys some of this savory dish in a smaller bowl, and though they wondered what they were eating, they were too hungry to be very fastidious, and Harry at least did ample justice to the meal. "Ishouldn't be surprised if this were bull-frog stew," said he to Philip; "I know these fellows eat them, and the little bones look very suspicious. However, I sha'n't ask any questions ; I never was so hungry in all my life." "I wonder whether they will show us the way home soon," said Philip, who seemed more anxious for that than for any thing else, "and whether any one has been looking for us." By this time they ^^jf^S^ii^Bi . A NIGHT IN THE FOBEST. 53 had finished, and old Muskrat brought them the bottle, which had been passing pretty freely from mouth to mouth, but the boys shook their heads. **No!" said he in surprise; "leetle boys not know what's good;" then putting it to his own mouth, he drank off their share as if it were so much water. "Peter's squaw show way — Lynton give blanket-coat," said he as the old woman came out of her wigwam, baskets in hand, in hopes of getting customers at Lyntonville. **Yes, yes," said Harry, much amused at his anxiety to be paid for his trouble. Taking a penknife, which happened to be nearly new, out of his pocket, he gave it to the old man, who grinned with delight. They then bade adieu to the friendly Indians, and with a last look at the funny little papooses, they followed the Indian along the banks of the river, and were amazed to find how Si^^i^ ||llllll!fii ii ri a I ! I "^ hi iniii ! I l| -|,.|lll! H 54 LTNTONVILLE. scon they reached their own familiar haunts. When they came in sight of the house, Harry threw up his cap and shouted " hurrah " at the top of his voice. The two mothers, who were together, heard the welcome sound, and hardly daring to believe that their ears had not de- ceived them, rushed into the verandah, and in a few moments the boys were clasped in their arms. "My dear, dear boys," said Mrs. Lynton; "thank God, we have you safe again. Where have you been? Your father, Harry, and the neighbors have been out all night searching for you." Numberless were the questions that poured in upon thom; and meanwhile the old squaw stood with characteristic patience awaiting their leisure, for she had no idea of departing without a gift of some sort. She %as liberally reward- A NIGHT IN THE f OEEST. 65 ed, and obtained a promise of the blanket- coat upon which old Peter seemed to have set his heart. A meal was also provided for her, and to the boys' aston- ishment, she not only managed to dis- pose of a large portion of a round of beef, but stowed away the remainder in her basket, as well as the rest of a loaf of goodly size which had been placed before her. The boys were not aware that Indian etiquette obliged her to do this, as to leave any food put before them on the table would be considered a breach of good manners. ! 1 ' '^Wll illN- 66 LYNTONVILLE. CHAPTER y. BREAKING-UP DAY AT SCHOOL. " 'T is not the eye of keenest blaze, Nor the quick-swelling breast, That soonest thrills at touch of praise : These do not please Him best." It was too late to attend the morning service, which must have been aiieady begun ere they reached their home, and the boys were glad to rest a while after their long walk and sleepless night ; but in the afternoon the whole party set out for the little church at Fairfield. As they approached, the bell began to ring, and Philip thought he had never heard music so sweet as that which called the worshippers together to the house of God. They entered the church with hearts thankful that they were once more per- BREAKING-UP DAY AT SCHOOL. 57 mitted to engage all together in the ser- vice of the sanctuary. Earnestly they joined in the prayers and praises which were offered ; and when Mr. Redfern the minister went into the pulpit and gave out his text, Harry and Philip were struck with the singular appropriateness of the passage. It was this: "Oh that men would praise the Lord for his good- ness, and for his wonderful works to the children of men !'^ Psa. 107 : 8. They listened still more attentively when the preacher referred to the verses preced- ing it: "They wandered in the wilder- ness in a solitary way; they -found no city to dwell in. Hungry and thirsty, their soul fainted in them. Then they cried unto the Lord in their trouble, and he delivered them out of their distresses. And he led thfem forth by the right way, that they might go to a city of habita- tion." 68 LYNTONVILLE. "My brethren," said the good man, " who is there among us that cannot tes- tify to the goodness of the Lord ? Who cannot point to some special deliverance at some time or other of their lives — some danger averted, or life spared, when no human arm was near to aid, no human voice to comfort and assure ? Aye, and when the cry for help and deliverance from the threatened danger has been wrung from a full heart, has it not many a time been coupled with a vow, that once free, once escaped, the spared life should be devoted to the service of the strong Deliverer? If any such are here, let me urge them to remember that hour, and to pay unto the Lord these solemn vows. "But while we consider these verses in their literal meaning, we must not for- get that there are far greater perils be- setting each precious soul, than any that BREAKING- UP DAY AT SCHOOL. 69 can happen to the body. My friends, have we not all wandered from the strait path? Have we not all strayed into the wilderness of this sinful world, and turned aside from the narrow gate which leadeth unto life ? The pleasures of sin have lured us on and on, like the bright flowers by the wayside, until at length oui'feet begin to stumble upon the slippery paths, and thorns and briers grow up where the fragrant blossoms have been. What a picture is here of the world which lieth in wickedness. Thanks be to God, some among us have escaped from its snares, and can now join in the song of the re- deemed. But are there none here whose souls are fainting within them because the pleasures have faded, and the trou- bles and the weariness of sin remain? Oh, my brethren, there is redemption for you; there is a city to dwell in prepared for you; if you will only seek it in the 60 LYNTONVILLE. right way, through the blood and right eousness of our loving Saviour. In Christ there is deliverance; in Christ there is rest ; in Christ there is pardon and peace. He is the Door — we must enter by him. He is the Way — we mu^t follow him. He is the Eock — we must trust in him. He is the Life — in him we have life ever- lasting. ''Let us ask the aid of his promised Comforter, the Holy Spirit, to teach us all things and testify to us of him; to work in us the grace of true repentance; to guide us into all truth, and deliver us from all evil. Withoujt the help of the Holy Spirit we can do nothing ; but we never seek his aid in vain, for our Lord himself has said, ' If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask him.' Luke 11 : 13. BREAKING-UP DAY AT SCHOOL. 61 "Thus, trusting in Christ alone, and relying on the promised help of his Holy Spirit, we shall be enabled to praise the Lord, not only with our lips but in our lives, walking before him in 'holiness and righteousness all the days of our life.'" As the boys walked home together after service, Harry looked very grave, and was silent for some time. At length he said, "Oh, Philip, did not the sermon seem like a message to us? I am sure we ought to praise God for being saved from death. When the bear came so close to us last night, I prayed to God to deliver us; and I thought if we could only get safe home again, I would serve God all my life. But, Philip, it is so hard for us boys to do any thing to serve God : if we were men it would be a dif- ferent thing. I do n't see what I can do Ho show forth his praise.'" 62 LYNTONVILLE. ' I do n^t know," said Philip ; " but it seems to me that all we can do is to try and do our best in our every day duties, I .mean our lessons and things ; because I have heard my mother say that God has a work for every one to do, accord- ing to his age and etation in life. You remember that verse where St. Paul says, ' With good will doing service, as to the Lord, and not to men;' and don't you think we can serve God by being steady and diligent and obedient, and all that?" "I suppose that is the way, Phil; but I always forget." " We must ask God to help us, Harry, by his Holy Spirit, for Christ's sake," said Philip. Philip's advice was remembered, and from this time Harry did become m inilustrious and painstaking ; and Ls mother's heart rejoiced when she saw*her BREAKING. UP DAY AT SCHOOL. 63 son striving to do his duty for the Lord's sake. The two boys were the heroes of the school on the following day, and they had to relate their adventures again and again for the amusement of their companions. The Wednesday after this event had been fixed for the examination and breaking up of the school for the summer vacation. As many parents came on that day to assure themselves of their sons' progress during the past term, the boys always endeavored to make their school look as festive as possible, by decking it with cedar-boughs and bright flowers. The examination this year was more largely attended than usual; and Mrs. Lynton persuaded Mrs. Quin to join their party, as it was understood that Philip would be declared first in the school. Some of the parents had subscribed a sum suflS- cient to enable Mr. Elmslie to give a few r C4 LYNTONVILLZ. 'H mn: prizes for the encouragement of his jschol- ars, though it was not the usual custom of the school. Great was the excitement therefore on the appointed day, for none of the boys knew who would be the fortunate winners of the much-coveted pijizes. The examination was to 'begin at two o'clock, and before that hour many visit- ors had arrived. The younger boys, for Mr. Elmslie began with the lower class- es, acquitted themselves very fairly, and received a general commendation for dil- igence in their studies. At length it was the turn of the first class to go up, and greater interest began to be shown, as it was to be subjected to a , much more difficult examination. Philip, though evidently nervous, passed most creditably, and without a doubt was en- titled to hold the first place. Harry, much to his own surprise, ranked second. BREAKING- UP DAY AT SCHOOL. 65 Poor Hardy, who had hitherto looked upon the examination as his own partic- ular triumph, was completely crestfallen that he was so far down on the list. Philip therefore received the prize for general proiSciency in school work ; and as each class was only entitled to one prize, the others were distributed among the younger boys. When all were given, it was seen that Mr. Elmslie laid a handsomely bound Bible upon the desk before him, and ad- dressing the boys, he said, "My lads, it has given me much pleasure to distribute among you the prizes which have been kindly placed at my disposal to bestow upon those who deserve encouragement for diligent attention to their studies. Of course, where there are so many compet- itors, it must necessarily happen that many are disappointed. To these I would say one cheering wordj that while one vB LYNTONVILLE. in each class has done best, yet there are several who have done well. It is not always the boy who works hardest that wins the prize ; for ability and qnickness go far to help some, of whose industry I cannot say much. I have therefore made out a list of those in the whole school, whom I find by my books to merit special commendation, which I have now much pleasure in reading." Here followed a long list of names ; and many a little boy*s eyes sparkled with delight when he heard his own 'among them. Mr. Elmslie at leiigth fold- ed up the paper, and continued, '*The prizes which have been bestowed among you to-day, are simply intended, as you all know, to testify to your proficiency in the various branches of study in which you are engaged. To the number of these I have added one as a reward for good conduct during the past year, and vn BEEAKING-UP DAY AT SCHOOL. 67 a token of my own regard for the boy who best deserves it. I have chosen a Bible for this purpose ; first, because it is the best of all books ; and secondly, because it is the best of all guides in en- abling those who seek instruction from its pages to lead a God-fearing, useful, and noble life. I have endeavored to choose among you all as impartially as possible, and I hope when I name Philip Quin as the owner of the book I hold in my hand, that my choice will be approved by his companions." "Hurrah, yes, yes. He is a good fel- low," cried many voices; and Philip, with much surprise and a glowing face, went up to the desk to receive the beau- tiful gift. "And now, my lads," resumed Mr. Elmslie, "x will not detain you longer than to wish you all a very pleasant holi- day; and may God have us all in his 68 LYNTONVILLE. most holy keeping, both now and al- ways." The boys began to cheer as soon as he had finished, and very soon the books were passing from hand to hand, excit- ing many remarks and great admiration. Philip found his way at once to his moth- er's side. Her eyes were full of tears as she whispered a few words of loving ap- proval to her only son, who gave promise of being a real blessing and comfort to his widowed mother. Yery soon the school-house was empty, and various groups of the boys and their parents were seen wending their way to their several homes ; and very few carried away with them any other feelings than those of pleasure and satisfaction at the events of the day. There was one however whose face wore a scowl as he mci Philip, and in whose heart evil feelings of anger and BREAKING- UP DAY AT SCHOOL. 69 revenge were burning. This one was Tom Hardy. Never before bad an ex- amination passed so much to his disad- vantage, and his was not the disposition to bear meekly any fancied wrong. Poor boy, we must not judge him too harshly, for he had few of the advantages our young friends Harry and Philip possess- ed. No loving mother had he, to soothe his angry spirit or gently to instil holy principles into his mind; and his father was a harsh, money-making and money- loving man, with little time and less in- clination to train his children in a right way. Tom was reckoned a sharp, smart lad, and Mr. Hardy's friends did not fajl to speak honied words of praise of him, too often in his hearing, in order to curry favor with his father, who was looked upon by some of the smaller settlers as a great man in that district. Tom Hardy 70 LYNTONVILLE. left the school-house with angry thoughts in his heart and angry words on his lips. " I '11 be even with him yet," said he to himself; "I thought something was in the wind, with his meek religious ways, sneak as he is, all to get on the right side of old Elmslie j but 1 11 teach him." He seemed lost in thought for a while, and then quickening his pace, muttering in a low tone, " That will do ; I Ve hit it,^- he ran down the hill and disappeared. But what was passing in Philip's mind at the same time ? We fear a humble, lowly spirit was no longer his ; for as ho passed Hardy his heart flowed with ex- ultation at his own success, and his feel- ings were akin to those of the Pharisee who dared to thank God that he was not as other men. Ah, how short, at any time, is the step between us and sin; and what need to pray for God's pre- venting grace. All day he hugged vain BREAKING-UP DAY AT SCHOOL. 71 thoughts of his goodness close to his heart, though none suspected it ; but af- terwards, when he knelt down at night, his conscience smote him as he remem- bered that his Father in heaven, from whom no secrets are hid, had read the thoughts of his inmost heart. A sense of his sin in God's sight weighed him down, and he whom all had praised that day closed it in the secrecy of his own little chamber with the heartfelt prayer, " God be mercififl to me a sinner." In the mean time the Lyntonville party, with the addition of Mrs. Quin, Philip, and Mr. Elmslie, had reached home, and the pleasant day was brought to a close by a row in Mr. Lynton's large boat on the river. The short twilight had already begun, but a bright star twinkled here and there in the dark blue sky, to light them on their way. There was a hush in the air which told of the 72 LYNTONVILLE. coming hours of stillness and rest, bro- ken only by the sighing of the wind in the tree- tops, mingled with the distant lowing of cattle or the loud croak of the bullfrog close at hand. Fireflies flitted about, gleaming like flashing emeralds among the low bushes by the water-side ; and the plash of the oars kept time to the evening hymn begun by Mrs. Lyn- ton^s sweet voice, and sung in chorus by all the party. Harry thought he had never loved their beautiful river so much before; and he bade his friend "good- night" with unmingled happiness, rejoic- ing in his success. The dew was falling fast, and the night wind blew with a chilly breath as they hastened homeward ; but little did any of them dream of the change that a few short hours would work on that peaceful scene. WHAT CAME OP IT. 78 CHAPTER VI. WHAT CAME OP IT. " Pire is a good servant, bnt a bad master." "Behold, how great a matter a little fire kindleth!*' Had any one watched the stealthy footsteps of a boy who, under the dark- ening shades of that summer night, left the village of Fairfield and proceeded in the direction of Mrs. Quints cottage, they could hardly have failed to suspect mis- chief; and Tom Hardy, for it was he, might well stop at every sound, and draw back into deeper shadow. It was but the wind however, as it blew back the hair from his hot forehead, or the echo of his own footfall in the stillness, that startled him. His conscience whispered, " Turn back, Tom, turn back ; think what you are going to do f but in vain j Tom 74 LYNTONVILLE. would not listen. He tried to stifle its voice. "It was no such great matter, after all " said he to himself ; he was only going to set fire to Philip's bower ; that would do him no real harm ; he might build it again, if he liked. It would but make him angry ; and then what fun it would be to see Philip, the meek, Philip, in a rage next morning, when he found a few smouldering ruins all that remained of his work. The best of it would be too, that no one would be able to discover the cause of the fire ; he would take good care of that. And Hardy laughed a low, exultant laugh as he thought over the capital revenge he had planned. By this time he had reached the house. All was still, and he crept round to the back, and looked up at the windows. " There 's no light," thought he, " so they must be in bed and asleep." Stealing he WHAT OAME OF IT. 75 to the arbor, he began carefully to build up beside it a small stack of tarred sticks and shavings just where the rising wind would fan the flame, when the loud crow- ing of a cock close by made him start and listen ; but all was silent again, and he went on with his work. Whepi it was done to his satisfaction, he struck a match ; guarding it with trembling hands from the breeze which threatened to put it out, and stooping slowly, he applied the light to the little heap. Then, only waiting an instant to make sure that the shav- ings had caught fire, he fled away from the spot as though he were pursued, and never once looked behind him until he reached the village. Creeping quietly in by a back way, he managed to elude observation, and watching his opportu- nity, got up to his room, and lay down on his bed as he had done many a night before, unnoticed by any of the house- 76 LYNTONVILLE. hold, a prayerless, ungodly, miserable boy. He could not sleep. Every sound startled him ; and he wondered as he lay in the dark whether Philip had been awakened by the red glare of the burn- ing summer-house or by the crackling of the flames. The possibility had escaped him before, but now it seemed unlikely that they could sleep through it. Rest- less and feverish with excitement, he tossed about from one side to the other. Then it struck him that the match might have been blown out by a puff of wind before it had time thoroughly to kindle the shavings. There was relief in the thought ; and as he flung off the light bedclothes to cool his fevered limbs he exclaimed, "I hope it isn't burning. I shall be glad, after all, though I did want to tease him." But the little pile of sticks — that would lead to suspicion j and WHAT GAME OF IT. 77 he would be suspected too, as his feel- ings towards Quin were well known. "Oh," he cried, "I wish I hadn't done it ; what a fool I have been." His teeth began to chatter, and he pulled the bed- clothes up again. ** Well, I must go the first thing in the morning, before it's light," thought he, "and take 'em away, if they have n't caught ; and if I do meet any one about, I '11 tell 'em I 'm looking for a robin's nest or something. How the wind is rising too. What if it is burning, after all ?" But hark ! the boy sprang up, for the loud clang of the fire-bell broke upon his ear. His heart died within him ; it was discovered. All Fairfield was speedily aroused. "Fire! fire!" shouted a voice in the street, and Tom heard his father open his window and ask in what direc- tion it was. ** Can't quite make out," said the man ; mmm" 1% LYNTONVILLE. i!l! "down by the river somewhere. May- iiap it 's only a barn ; but I 'ro off to see." Then came the loud rattle of the engine as the firemen dragged it down the vil- lage street; and Tom's door opened, and his father called out, " Come on, Tom, I 'm going to see the fun ; they say it 's the widow Quin's cottage." Tom pre- tended to wake from a deep sleep. "What's the maMer?" said he, as well as his choking voice would let him. "Why, it's a fire, lad, a fire. You can't be sleeping through all this din, surely. Come along with me j I 'm go- ing down." ^ "I don't care to see it," said Tom gruffly; "I'm sleepy;" and he turned over again as if in a heavy slumber. Mr. Hardy hurried off. The cottage on fire! Oh no, it could not be ; it was too terrible to be true. Surely the cottage was too far off to be WHAT CAME OF IT. 79 in any danger. Tom shivered from head to foot, and the perspiration streamed down his face. He never dreamed that it would come to this ; and if it should be discovered that he had lit that dread- ful firo, what then? He would be thrown into prison, and brought to trial before a judge. Mingled with his terror of an earthly tribunal came a vague recollec- tion of words from God's book, of awful \,'oe to those who "devoured widows' houses." Eagerly he listened, straining his ear to catch every distant sound, till he could bear the suspense no longer, and hurry- ing on his clothes, he rushed out into the street. He knew only too well the direc- tion in which to go, and when ho reached the bridge he could see the lurid sky and the fierce flames leaping up through the thick smoke, though the cottage was partly hidden by trees. It was too true, 80 LYNTONVILLE. and he covered his face with his hands to shut out the terrible sight. "Oh," he exclaimed, ** I did not mean to do any thing so dreadful as this ; I never thought the fire would go further than the bower ; what shall I do ? what shall I do V But it was useless to loiter, and he rushed madly on. Once his foot caught in a stump, and he fell heavily ; but he was up in a moment, and ran on again until he reached the spot. What a sight it was! The engine was working, but not effectively, for part of the machinery needed repair; and the red flames shot up, hissing and roaring, licking up the water with their forked tongues, and destroying all before them. Not a hope remained of saving any part of the building. Tom saw Philip with Harry Lynton and several other lads, but he avoided them, and asked a fire- man where Mrs. Quin was. WHAT CA ME OP IT. 81 "They've taken her up to Lynton- ville. It 's a terrible business for her, poor thing," said the man as he hurried away. The parlor as yet had not suffered much, for the back of the house had caught lire first ; and it came into Tom's mind to try and rescue something*. He forced his way into the room through the scorching heat and smoke. Most of the furniture had been removed ; but a few things still remained, and lying on a chair was Philip's beautiful Bible and his prize. Could it really be so .^hort a time since the books were placed in his hands, and yet that they had become the innocent cause of all this evil ? Oh that Tom could have recalled those hours ; he would not have acted as he had done. He caught up the books, and as he tried to pass out his foot struck against something on the floor. It was a small Ljmtonvlll*. n 82 LYNTONVILLE. miniature portrait. He picked it up and made his way to the door; but the flames had burst into the passage and drove him back, while a shout was raised outside that the roof was falling. Not a moment was. to be lost, and he dashed through the smoke and flame only just in time to escape being crushed beneath the falling rafters; as it was, his hair and clothes were singed, and he was consid- erably burned. After this the fire began to subside, and Tom stood gazing at the scene, with Philip's books in his hand, like one bewildered. Philip too stood there with folded arms, looking with a sad, sad face at the ruins of his home — his mother's little all consumed in an hour. Harry was trying to comfort him, but Philip could not be comforted. Pres- ently Hardy came up, with blackened face, and his hand tied up in his handker- chief. *' Look here, Quin, I found these,'* &* WHAT CAME OF IT. 83 said he as he put the books and the min- iature into his hands. ** My books," cried Philip, "and papa^s likeness ! Oh, Hardy, how did you get them ? My mother will be so pleased to have this again. How can I thank you?" and his conscience smote him as he re- membered his sinful feelings on the pre- vious dav. "Why, Hardy," said Harry, "you^re hurt. Did you get burnt? What's the matter?" The boy looked very white, and turned away, muttering, "It's nothing — never mind. I 'm glad I got them." But Philip followed him. "Let me see your hand, Hardy; I'm sure it hurts you very much. I am so sorry." Hardy winced as he tried to un- bind his hand. He felt happier, in spite of the pain, than he had done, but he could not stand Philip's thanks. 84 LYNTONVILLE. **I say, Quin, leave it alone," said he, "I '11 see to it when I get home." "But you don't know what to do," cried Harry; "come along with us, and I '11 get my mother to bind it up for you. She knows all about burns." "No, no," said Hardy; "there's my father, I '11 go home with him." "Hollo, youngster," said Mr. Hardy, when he saw his son, "so you came after all. I thought you wouldn't be long after me. But what 's this you 've been after — getting yourself burnt, eh ? Why, what a fool you must have been to get into the thick of it that way. But never mind, never mind, lad," added he, rub- bing his hands, as he thought of the cus- tom the fire would be likely to bring to his store, "it's an ill wind that blows nobody good." So saying, Mr. Hardy and Tom went on their way. PHILIP'S DISCOVERY. 85 CHAPTER YII. PHILIP'S DISCOVERY. *' Hush, idle tbonghts and words of ill, Your Lord is listening ; peace, be siiU.'* " Be sure your sin will ^d you out." As soon as it was light next morning, Philip, who could not sleep after the ex- citement and fatigue he had undergone, went down to reconnoitre the scene of the fire. Nothing remained of his little home but blackened and still smoking embers. It was a sad sight, for Philip knew that with the house his mother had lost her all. It had always been his comfort hitherto, that at least her home was her own ; and he had looked forward to the happy day when, by his own exer- tions, he might be able in some measure to repay her tender care and love for 86 LYNTONVILLE. bim. Now all his bright hopes were dashed to the ground — and in how short a time ! He felt very sorrowful as he . looked at the ruins, and at the spot where the arbor had been. He thought of the many happy hours he had spent there. Would he ever be happy again? for it seemed as though this terrible fire had destroyed all his prospects for life. His great ambition had been to study hard, and by means of his education to make his way in the world. But now, if he continued at school, his mother would be obliged to work. The thought was not to be endured for a moment. No, he must put his shoulder to the wheel, and at once. There was only one thing open to him : he must become a clerk in a store; and a sharp conflict ensued be- tween his rebellious spirit and his strong sense of duty. While his mind was thus occupied, his eye caught the glitter of PHILIP'S DISCOVEBY. 87 something lying on the ground. Me- chanically he stooped and picked it np ; it was an open knife, with **T. Hardy" roughly cut upon the handle. He slipped it into his pocket, intending to give it back when they next met, and the in- cident hardly interrupted his train of thought. "Why, Philip, my boy," said Mr. Lynton, who had come up to him una- wares, "I did not expect to find you here. I thought you were safe in bed, and that's where you should be," he added kindly, looking at his pale, wan face; "this sad business has been too much for you." " I could n't sleep, sir, and I thought I would come down and look at the old place again before any one was about." "That's my reason for coming also, my boy, for we may find some clue to account for it. It 's a strange business, 88 LYNTONVILLP. very strange," said Mr. Lynton, musing. "Was the house on fire when you were first roused ?'^ "Yes; I woke up quite suddenly, and found the room full of smoke. I had only just time to rush into my mother's room and arouse her, and to wake Biddy, before the flames burst in through the roof. You know it was at the back of the house, sir ; and by the time we got down the engine was close by. They had seen it at the village before we knew any thing about it." "And was that place your arbor down there?" and Mr. Lynton pointed in the direction it had been. " Was it burn- ing then, or did it catch fire after- wards?" " Oh no, sir, it was nearly burnt down before I woke at all." "Then the fire must have originated there. Have you been in the habit of PHILIP'S DISCOVERY. 89 keeping matches or any thing combusti- ble down there lately, Philip ?" "No, sir, I am sure I never did." "And you did not carry a lighted candle there last night ? Harry tells me you went to fetch a book you had left there." " No, sir, I found the book lying on the bench. The moon was so bright I did not need the lantern." Mr. Lynton was silent for some min- utes. "It's my impression," said he at length, "from all I can gather, that it must have been the work of an incendi- ary. It is a sad loss to your poor moth- er, Philip." Philip's lip quivered. "That's just what I 've been thinking about, sir. I 'm afraid I must leave off going to school now, and see if I can't find some place in a store." "Ah," said Mr. Lynton j "and were IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) "^^^ // ^f. ^o"" ^^r!. :/ 5r /^.y. 1.0 I.I ISO Jl^ Illal 11^ 2.2 2.0 1.8 1.25 1.4 1.6 •* ^ b" - ► % y^ ^^ :^/ ^'t^ rf-i o / >^ % / Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 C/a '^ -*- 90 LYNTONVILLE. these the thoughts that made you look so sad when I first met you ?" " I dare say they did, sir. I am very sorry. I did so wish to work hard and get on in my lessons, and enter some profession ;" and Philip's voice trembled, and the unbidden tears would start into his eyes. Mr. Lynton looked at him in some surprise, for the boy had never before spoken so openly, and putting his hand kindly upon his shoulder, he said, **I see this fire is likely to be the cause of even a greater trial to you than I at first an- ticipated, Philip ; but cheer up, my boy ; you know God helps those who try to help themselves. Besides, you must not think it beneath you to enter a store. I can quite sympathize with your feelings, for you have not been long enough in the country to understand our modes of thought J but I can assure you that in a PHILIP'S DISCOVERY. 91 colony like this, some of our most highly educated and esteemed men have begun life in a position such as you contemplate. But you have not had time yet to think over your plans; and in the meantime, Philip, you know we are only too glad to have your mother and you at Lynton- ville: and remember, my boy, you will never want a friend while it is in my power to help you." ** I thank you, sii, you are very kind ; indeed, I do n't know L^ r to thank you enough," said Philip, as they reached the house. Harry did all in his power to cheer his friend. *' Do you know, Philip," said he, later in the day, when they were talking it all over, "I've been thinking this morning about that text, ' Not a sparrow shall fall to the ground without your Father in heaven.' If God looks after the sparrows he must know all !!!:! 0^ 92 LYNTONVILLE. about this, how it happened and all, and do n't you think he 11 take care of you?" **0L, yes," said Philip, "that's what mararaa says, and I do n't know what we should do if we did not believe God's promises ; but it 's very hard to feel right about it, and to think that it's all for- the best. Perhaps some day we shall know why it happened better than we can ji now. Towards evening Philip slipped away quietly, to take another look at the ruins. Again and again he went over all the circumstances of the fire in his own mind ; when suddenly he remembered Hardy's knife, and he took it out of his pocket. He knew it well, for he had seen it many a time before, but now it acquired a new interest in his sight. How came it in the spot where he had found it in the morn- ing? The crowd was collected in front 1 1 PHILIP'S DISCOVEEY. 93 of the cottage, and on the bank of the river ; what could Hardy have been about there ? It was open too when he picked it up, as if i.t had just been used ; and Philip examined the knife, as though the inanimate steel could give him some clue to the truth. His thoughts recurred to Mr. Lynton's idea, that the place had been set on fire purposely. Then the events of the day before flashed across his mind : the examination ; the prizes he had so unexpectedly won, which Har- dy had looked upon as his own ; the angry scowl too upon his face, as he met him coming from the school-house ; above all, the difficulty in accounting for the fire. It could not have been accidental ; some one must have done it; and who was that some one ? Philip was fast working himself into a state of painful excitement. Was it pos- sible? Yes, it was, it must have been 94 LYNTONVILLE. Hardy. He began to see it all now ; this was the cruel, cowardly revenge he had planned, and as Philip became more and more convinced of the truth of his sus- picions, his angry passions rose in pro- portion. " How wicked," he thought ; ** I never injured him, that he should do such a cruel, cowardly thing. I 've borne all his taunts; I never said an unkind word to him in my life ; and this is what comes of it all." His brain seemed on fire, as one argument after another to prove Hardy's guilt arose in his mind; and his eye gleamed with a strange light while ^ he pondered the facts which were so sus- picious. " But this is more than I can bear. I '11 show him up in his true light; mean, cowardly bully that he is. If it were only myself it would be different, but he has ruined my mother^ and I hate him. I do," said he aloud, stamping with his foot upon the ground, "and I PHILIP'S DISCOVERY. 95 should n't care if he were hung for it." The sound of his own voice startled him. And was this Philip, the meek disciple of a meek and lowly Master ? It was in- deed, and for a while it seemed as though Satan had triumphed. 'All his evil pas- sions were in league against him ; anger, hatred, revenge, all struggled for the mastery, under the guise of righteous in- dignation, and a just desire to avenge his mother's wrongs. But God, in his mercy, will not let his children be tempted above that they are able to bear ; and so it was with Philip. He had received great prov- ocation. His mother, his loved mother, had been injured almost beyond repair, and his own prospects in life blighted; and for what ? Simply to gratify the bad passions of a boy whom he had never wronged. It was a severe trial, and we must not think the worse of him because 96 LYNTONVILLE. ill!' i t i the old self which remained in his heart fought a hard battle with the new self implanted by God's grace, and nearly gained the victory ; but in the hour of his weakness he received strength from above to resist the strong temptation. The sound of his own voice 'brought him to himself, and above the angry tumult within his breast he seemed to hear a still small voice, whispering, **But I say unto you, Love your enemies, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them that despite fully use you, and per- secute you." Hitherto he had been walking rapidly on, not caring where he went; now he stopped, and sitting down on an old stump by the side of the path, he took out a little pocket Testament, and turned to iiic y/ords. The gleam faded from his eye, and the angry look from his face, as the holy words carried conviction to his PHILIP'S DISCOVERY. 97 conscience. ** Oh," he said, "how wick- ed I have been. I have blamed him for the very thing I was going to do myself. May God forgive me." A tear stole down his cheek, a tear of repentance for his sin, and he knelt down in the shade of the forest-trees to pray for pardon, and wisdom to direct. It was no easy decis- ion he had to make. Ought he to con- ceal what he suspected, or was it his duty to make it known? Yery earnestly he besought his heav- enly Father to guide him in the right way, and he turned over the pages of his little Testament to see if he could find any message from God's word to help him in his difficulty. Presently his eye rested on this verse in one of his favorite chapters: "Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath : for it is written, Yengeance is mine ; I will repay, saith the Lord. I.rntonTtlla. rmr 98 LYNTONVILLE. !l i Therefore if thine enemy hunger, feed him ; if he thirst, give him drink ; for in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire on his head.'^ Rom. 12:19, 20. He thought a while, and then he decided to keep what he knew to himself. *'I will never mention it : God helping me, I will keep it a secret all my life." A hollow place in a tree close at hand caught hig eye. "I will put the knife in there, and if it should ever be found no one will know how it came there." He had to climb up to reach it, and the knife dropped down into the cavity. Then he turned to go home, and as he went he remembered Hardy's pale, frightened face, and how he had injured himself in saving the books. '* He never could have meant to set the cottage on fire," thought Philip; ''most likely the sparks were blown upon the shingles, for the wind set that way, and then the roof PHILIP'S DISCOVERY. 99 caught. I dare say he was afraid of being found out, and he must have been sorry too, or he would not have risked get- ting burnt to save any thing. Poor fellow ; 1 11 go and ask how his hand is by and by. Shall I tell him I sus- pect him? No, I think not; it will be kinder never to let him know. Oh Lord, help me to keep my resolution," he inwardly prayed, "and enable me to serve thee aright, now and always." In this softened frame, Philip returned to Lyntonville. It was as though a ter- rible storm had passed over his soul — the wind and the waves boisterous and contrary, and tossing the frail bark of his spiritual life to and fro, in their angry tumult ; but the Saviour's voice had spo- ken above the tempest, saying, ** Peace, be still;" and immediately there wag a calm. Oh, well is it for us all if we have taken that gentle Saviour as our guide 100 LYNTONVILLE. and helper, that we may be enabled "so to pass the waves of this troublesome world, that finally we may come to the land of everlasting life," in the world to come. > i THE DAY AFTEB THE FIAE. 101 CHAPTER VIII. THE DAY AFTER THE FIBE. "Conscience does make cowards of ns all." We must now return to Hardy, whom we last saw going home with his father after the fire. As so6n as he reached the house, his hand was properly bound up ; his father at the same time rating him soundly for what he called his stupid- ity in getting burnt. "•Take care of number one ; that 's my maxim, lad, and you ^11 find it a safe one, I can tell you. But now you ^d better turn in, for I should say you *d had enough of it for one night. Stay, you ^re cold. Come into the store, and I '11 give you something to set you all to rights ;" and he poured out some whisky, and made Tom drink it. It was not the first 11 ll II I! i02 LYNTONVILLE. time the boy had taken spirits, but in his present excited state it affected him greatly. He went up and threw himself on his bed, and immediately fell into a heavy sleep. It was still early when he woke ; and he roused himself ^ith a dull sense of something on his mind, but what, he could not remember for some minutes. Slowly it all came back to his memory, and the pain of his burnt hand was only too sure a reminder of the part he had played in the scenes of the night. He got up and looked at himself in the little glass which hung against the wall. He thought his very face would betray him, he looked so pale and haggard ; but peo- ple would imagine it was the pain of the burn; they could never suspect him of having any share in it, unless — and the mere possibility was terrible to him — unless he had been observed going in that direction so shortly before the alarm. THE DAY AFTEE THE FIRE. 103 He went down stairs and wandered into the kitchen, where the boy was light- ing the stove before opening the shutters in the store. He tried to whistle un- concernedly as Jack made some common remark about the fire, and went into the shop. The early morning sunlight streamed in through the round holes in the shut- ters, which he attempted to take down in the caprice of the moment, and leaving them half-opened, went off to the wood- shed. Here he began to cut through a log of wood which had been left upon the saw-horse; and then he felt in his pocket for his knife. It was gone. He rushed up to his room and sought for it in every hole and corner; it was not there. And then he remembered hav- ing cut the string which bound the little bundle of tarred sticks with it the night before. He must have left it in his 104 LYNTONVILLE. hurry close to the spot, and his name cut in large letters on the handle would be a witness against him. "Fool that I have been," he muttered; **if 1 had only thought what it would come to, I would have seen myself far enough before I stiiTcd one step to do it. But there's no one about so early as this ; I may find it yet ;" and he ran off full speed to look for the missing knife. He paused at the ditch where he had fallen in his blind haste before, and searched all about, but no knife was there; and he walked on as fast as he could to the place where the cottage had been. n . . r Mr. Lynton and Philip had but just left the spot when Hardy came up, and he saw their retreating figures crossing the bridge. Carefully he looked about in every direction; but, as our readers are already aware, without a chance of success, for it was at that moment safe THE DAY AFTER THE FIRE. 105 in Philip's pocket. After a long and fruitless search, he gave it up as hfie- lessly lost. One comfort was, H was no- where near the arbor, so that even if found it could not rouse suspicion, and his heart was lightened of half its load. His chief anxiety was lest he should be found out ; yet as he stood looking at the smouldering ruins, his conscience smote him sorely. "I wish I'd never thought of doing it ; such a pretty little place too. I never dreamed the fire would spread like that ; and I do n't believe any thing was saved." No, Tom Hardy, it is easier to do wrong than to set it right after it is done ; and that you have found to your cost. "Well," he thought at last, *'I can't help it now, and I sha'n't care much if I can only keep it quiet." Poor boy, he forgot that there was One above who knew all, and from whom no secrets are hid. He had never been taught in his 196 LYNTONVILLE. childhood of the **Eye that never sleeps," resting always upon each one of us ; and now all he cared for was to escape the anger of his fellow-creatures and the just punishment of his fault. As he reached his father's door, he overheard several men talking about the fire, and stopped to listen. "I say. Smith, were you up at the fire last night ?" said one. " Not I ; I heard nothing of it till this morning. They do say as how it must ha' been a 'cendiary, and if so be it is, they '11 put up a reward for certain." "You don't say so!" said the other; "well, I was thinking myself it were mighty strange how it corned about." "Biddy, that's Mrs. Quin's sarvant, told me this morning that not a bit of a fire had been in the stove since ten o'clock o' the mornin' yesterday, for the mis- thress had been up to Lyntonville all the THE DAT AFTER THE FIRE. 107 day," said an Irish lad, who was* errand- boy and newsmonger in general to the village. **Aye, then I shouldn't wonder if there might be some truth in it. I guess Mr. Lynton wont let him off very easy, whoever he is." "Aisy is it?" said Terence; "shure I 'd flay him alive, if he was the praste himself, for layin' a finger on the lot of the widow and the orphan — bad luck to him, whoever he was." Tom Hardy shook from head to foot. Then it was suspected. And if his knife were to be found after all about the place, it would prove him guilty; and then what would become of him ? All day long the boy was tormented by these fears, and every fresh comment upon the fire only added to his misery. His time hung heavily on his hands, for the school was closed, and he hardly dared to join 108 LYNTONVILLE. any of bis companions, lest some tell-tale look or unguarded word might betray him. But the days wore on; no clue had been found, and he began to be more easy in his mind. Little did he imagine that one person suspected his share in the transaction, and that person the very one he had so deeply injured. - Philip took the first opportunity of inquiring for Hardy's hand, and of thank- ing him once more for having rescued the books. He did it sincerely and warmly, feeling that he had now quite forgiven him from his heart for the mischief he had caused. Hardy had only meant to injure him, and for this Philip no longer harbored any angry feelings; the rest had been in God's hands. Those few kind words from Philip went straight to Hardy's conscience, and he winced under them as though each had. been a lash. THE DAY AFTEE THE FIEE. 105) ** Do you know, Hardy, I am afraid I sha^n't be able to come to school any more ?" " Not come back to school ; why not?" said he in astonishment. " Why, I must try and do something to help my mother now. I wouldn't have said any thing about it, only I heard that your father wanted a clerk, and perhaps he might take me." Mr. Hardy had the largest and most impor- tant store in the place, and there was no other where Philip could find employ- ment. "Take you into the store, Quin ; do you really mean it ? I thought you were too proud, a long way, to do any thing of the kind." Hardy did not now speak bitterly, but in unfeigned surprise. '* Yes," said Philip, "I have been very foolish,.! know; but one grows wiser as one grows older, and I do n't know what 110 LYNTONVILLE. else I can do. Do you think your father would have me ?" "I don't know," said Hardy, "he wants a man." "Perhaps Mr. Lynton would speak for me," said Philip thoughtfully; "I think I '11 ask him j" and soon after the boys parted. So Philip wished to come into the store. Hardy was far from echoing the wish; he did not want to have a con- stant reminder of his folly before his eyes, but he said nothing ; and the next day Mr. Lynton and Philip made their appearance. "I believe, Hardy, you are in want of jf clerk. Perhaps you would be good enough to try my young friend here, and see whether you can make any thing of him as a man of business." Philip felt his cheeks burning ; it was a hard trial for him, and one from which ither "he I \i peak ; "I p the the J the con- ! his next their at of ^ood and ig of was hich Is.rjJi! .Ir THE DAY AFTER THE FIRE. Ill Mr. Lynton would willingly have shield- ed him, could he have found any thing raore suitable at the time. Mr. Hardy rubbed his hands, and scanned Philip with his cold, harsh eyes. "He's very young, sir, very young. I guess he wont be worth his salt for a long time to come. Can you write a goodish hand, youngster? let us see;" and he pushed the ink towards him. Philip's hand shook so that he could hardly hold the pen, but he managed to write a few words in a bold hand. "Ah, come, that's pretty well for a beginning," said he. "It's Mrs. Quin's son, I believe; is it not? A sad thing that fire, very. And you want to do something for yourself, eh? Well, sir, under the circumstances, and since it's to oblige you, I '11 consent to try him ; but he 's young, sir, far too young. How- ever, I 'm glad to do a charitable action 112 LYNTONVILLE. at all times." Philip^s blood boiled. Did the man think he was doing him a charity, when a word from him would ruin his son for life ? Hasty words were rushing to his lips, when he suddenly checked himself, and inwardly prayed for strength to be enabled to keep his resolution. Poor Philip, it was no easy task he had in prospect ; but he thought of the promise, "As thy days, so shall thy strength be," and he was helped. It was settled that the next Monday should see him take his place behind the counter for the first time, at a salary of four dollars a week; and with a heavy heart he walked back to Lyntonville. "It will be a trial to you, Philip," said Mr. Lynton,* "especially at first; but strive to do your duty in your new position, and you will find that God will bless you in it. The discipline may seem THE DAY AFTER THE FIRE. 113 hard just now, but believe me, in after- life you will never regret it; and just let me give you one word of advice : do n't add to your mother's sorrow by telling her what a sacrifice you are making for her sake. No doubt she feels it enough already." Philip remembered Mr. Lynton's cau- tion, and when he told his mother of the arrangement that had been made, he did it as cheerfully as he could. "It will be plieasant to feel that I am beginning to help you, dear mother." ** Well, my son," she replied, stroking back the hair from his forehead with her gentle, caressing hand, "it is not what I could have wished for you, but our heav- enly Father knows best, we may be per- fectly satisfied of that ; and he is able to bring good out of what seems to us only evil." LyBtOBTlIIe. 8 lU LYNTONVILLE. CHAPTER IX. . . ME. HAEDY'S STORE. '•Tetichme, my GodandKing, . ; In all things thee to see ; And what I do in any thing, To do it as for thee. , All may of thee partake ; » , Nothing can be so mean That with this tincture, 'For thy sake,' ' • Will not grow bright and clean." ' Monday came, and Philip went to his post. He felt strangely awkward as he was told to assist in unpacking and mark- ing a large case of new goods just ar- rived from Toronto. Hardy employed two clerks; and Bennett, whose place Philip was to take, still remained for a few days to put his successor into the ways of the business. Joe Gammon, the other, was a youth about eighteen years of age, good-looking and sharp, and un- #^ MR. HARDY'S STORE. 115 scrupulous enough in his dealings to please his like-minded master. "Joe's a lad of the right sort," Hardy used to say ; "no fear but he '11 make his way in the world." Bennett was an older man, and would have been a far safer compan- ion for Philip than Joe ; but he had saved money, and was now about to better him- self by taking a share in a small business in a rising village a few miles off. " You 've got hold of a raw hand there, Bennett," said Joe, laughing. "Never left his mother's apron-strings before, pretty dear." " You '11 teach him a thing or two be- fore you've done with him, I expect, Master Joe," replied Bennett. "I tell you what, youngster," added he in a low tone to Philip, as Joe walked off to the other end of the store to attend to a cus- tomer, "you'd better look to yourself here. I'm no baint myself, but of all 116 LYNTONVILLE. the precious young scamps I ever came across, that chap *s the worst." ' There was a rough kindliness of man- ner about Bennett for which Philip felt gratefiil, and he was really sorry when he left the place at the end of the week. During that time he had set to work with ^ a will to learn as much as he could of his new duties, and by degrees he became more expert, and lost his awkward ways. It was still early tn the summer, and Philip used to sigh somv.^ times as he thought of the green shady woods, and the cool splash of the river by their little cottage. It was hot and close in the store, and the mingled odors of soap and cheese and candles and butter were often so overpowering that he was obliged to go to the door for a breath of the pure fresh air, while he leaned his aching head against the side-post. His work was very hard, and its irksomeness made it still MR. HARDY'S STORE. 117 more so; but he uttered no complaint, and even Mr. Hardy's sharp eye could detect but few faults. But he had greater trials than these. What he felt most was, being obliged to work for and with such unprincipled men as gradually he found out Mr. Hardy and Joe to be. At first he suspected nothing, for he was so con- scientious himself, that it never once en- tered his head that they could wilfully deceive and cheat; but little by little his eyes were opened, and his whole soul re- volted from such wrong dealings. Yery soon Hardy's customers began to like Philip to serve them, for they found that he gave good measure, and would recom- mend none but the best articles, while he was always obliging and courteous. One day an old woman drove up to the door in one of the country wagons, and alighting, popped her head into the shop. Philip was busy measuring off 118 LYNTONVILI.E. some print for another customer. See- ing him engaged, she went ofif, though Joe was standing idle ; but after a while returned again to find Philip still occu- pied. This time she came in, but nothing would induce her to mention her wants until she could secure Philip's services. " What can I show you to-day, Mrs. McGregor ?" said Joe, all smiles. ''It's a fine day for the mowing," re- plied she ; " I thought we should ha' had rain last night." " So did I," said Joe. " Is it groceries you want to-day? we have a prime lot of goods on hand just now, which we are selling cheap." "What's that stuff-piece you have over there?" said the old lady, keeping one eye on Philip. "Ah, the blue on a green ground. Sweet thing," said Joe, taking it down. ** We have just received it, with a large MR. HARDY'S STORE. 119 assortment of goods, by the last steamer from the old country" — it had been in the store a year and a half — " ten yards to a dress. It will suit you exactly, Mrs. McGregor; let me cut off a dress- length for you. Coine, I '11 let you have it for six dollars; and that's less than cost price." " No," she said, feeling the texture, "I do n't think I '11 take it to - day ;" and looking about for something else to re- mark upon, she espied a little machine at the other end of the counter. "And what may this be, Mr. Joe?" "Well, ma'am," said Joe, "that is the most extraordinary little article that's been invented this long time; but wont you allow me to measure you off this piece? You can't do better, I assure you." Then seeing Mrs. McGregor's attention wholly diverted, "It's an ap- ple-parer, ma'am, and will do the work 120 LYNTONVILLE. of six pair of hands in no time at all ; and all for the small sum of a quarter dollar." •'Law, yoii don't say so," said she with pretended interest; "you couldn't show me how it works now, could you?" " Oh, certainly, mk'am, with the great- est pleasure," and he went to get an ap- ple for the purpose. The paring process was only half over when Mrs. McGregor, to her great relief, saw Philip opening the door for the other customer, who had completed her purchases, and sud* denly leaving Joe and his machine, she walked across to the opposite counter, saying to Philip, "I'll tell you what I want, Mr. Quin, for I believe you wont cheat me ; but as to that young chap yon- der, he shall play off none of his tricks upon me." Joe did not like to be out- shone thus by the new-comer, and found ways and means of venting his spite upon Philip, who on the whole led no easy life. ME. HARDY'S STORE. 121 Mrs. Quin had taken lodgings in the village, in order to be near her son, and Philip went home to her every evening after the store was closed. But the close confinement soon began to affect his del- icate frame, and he often longed to be at his beloved books, when he was occupied all day long in weighing out pounds of sugar and measuring yards of factory cottons for the poor settlers of the dis- trict. His mother watched his pale face grow thinner, and his step less light ev- ery day, with sad forebodings. She would have given all she had to be able to take him away from his distasteful occupation, but his weekly earnings con- tributed materially to their support, and what could they do without them ? No repining word ever passed his lips, and even his fond mother never guessed how much he suffered. In the mean time things went on much 122 LYNTONVILLE. as usual at the Long Cross school, though Hardy now found a new and scarcely less formidable rival in Harry Lynton. In one thing however Tom was changed, for he never went into the store if he could help it, and avoided Philip as much as possible ; but all sorrowful recollections of the injury his conduct had caused seemed to have faded from his memory. Harry never ceased to miss his friend. ** I declare," said he one day, *'I never see you now, Phil ; but I suppose it can't be helped. I do n't know how I get on without you though, for you always con- trived to keep me straight." " You can't be more sorry than I am, Harry," replied Philip sadly; "it seems as if all my happy days were over.' Only I believe it 's my duty, and that makes me more reconciled to it." Scarcely a day passed without Harry making some little errand to the store, that he might MR. HAEDY'S STOBE. 123 have an opportunity of chatting with Philip; and these short visits and the evening hour with his mother were the only pleasures he had to relieve the mo- notonous labor of his life. And so week after week passed on ; but Philip remem- bered he was helping his mother, and this was his greatest comfort. He scarce- ly knew himself how weak and ill he was, and toiled on, thankful for the em- ployment which helped to keep the wolf from the door. Yery often they had to deny themselves necessaries; and it would have melted the hardest heart to have been an unseen witness of their daily meal. "Mother," Philip would say sometimes, " I 'm not hungry to-day ; I can't eat any dinner;" and all Mrs. Quin's persuasions would only induce him to taste the scanty fare. Again, if he happened to be later than usual, she would keep the lion's share for her boy, J24 LYNTONVILLE. while perhaps little food had passed her own lips that day. None knew how hard a battle they had to fight with poverty ; and Philip tried his utmost to earn a higher salary. Mr. Hardy knew full well he was worth it ; but while he could secure his services for four dollars a week, why should he think of raising it? And the poor boy, in his inexperience trusting to his master's honor, toiled harder than ever to win his approba- tion. ... September was now drawing towards its close, and the bright autumn tints told a tale of coming winter, when Mr. Lynton having made arrangements for his usual hunting expedition, determined this year to take Harry with him, so pleased was he with his industry and the progress he had made at school. Harry, nearly wild with delight, rushed into the store as soon as he possibly could, to tell MK. HABDY'S STOBE. 126 Philip i\e good news. Poor Philip's face fell. " Going away for a month. Oh, Har- ry, what shall I do without seeing you sometimes ? I shall miss you so much." " Never mind, old fellow," said Harry, " a month will soon pass, and then I shall be able to tell you all about it, you know. But I say, is n't it jolly, though?" Philip did not look as if he thought it very jolly, but he tried to sympathize in his friend's pleasure. "There goes the bell ; I came in early on purpose to tell you, Phil, but I must be off now." In the course of the day it chanced that Tom was sent into the store by his father, as an extra hand was required, and for the first time for several weeks he noticed Philip, who was looking more than usually pale and weak. **Why, Quin," said he, ''how bad you look; what 's the matter ?" If 126 LYNTONVILLE. " I do n't know," replied he ; " I 'm all right, thank you." "But you don't look all right, I can tell you. Why don't you take some- thing ? I believe you ought to have port wine, you have n't got a bit of color in your face. Why do n't you ?" Philip smiled a melancholy smile as he thought of their narrow means. " We can't afford it," he said quietly. Hardy turned away quickly and asked no more questions. " I believe he 's going to die," thought he; "this hard work is killing him ; he 's not used to it." More slowly the idea forced itself iato Hardy's mind that this was his own work, and the idea once there, he could not get rid of it ; it followed him wherever he went, and once he woke with a start in the night dream- ing that he was being dragged ofif to pris- on, accused of Philip's murder. Harry had been gone very nearly a MR. HARDY'S STORE. 127 month, and Philip rejoiced much at the prospect of welcoming him back again so soon. October was passing quickly away, the trees were already leafless and bare, and sharp frosts had set in, which made poor Philip shiver and cough. He himself began to think that he should not be able to go on much longer, for some- times he became so dizzy he was obliged to sit down by the roadside, cold as it was, on his way to the store in the morn- ing; and he felt he could not lift the same heavy weights he did formerly. One day when he went as usual to the post-office for the. letters he found one addressed to himself, and greatly to his surprise, on opening it, he saw that it contained nothing but a ten dollar note. His heart was full of wonder and thank- fulness as he thought of the many little comforts this sum would procure for his mother, and all day he tried to think who ' light step in the- adjoining room, " come and sit down here by me a little while. Here 's Tom Hardy ; I know you '11 be glad to see him ;" and very gently, and little by little, he helped Hardy to make his confession. Mrs. Quin was much astonished as the truth dawned upon her ; but his evident dis- tress and sorrow disarmed every feeling of resentment, and only thankfulness for THE CONFESSION. 169 the noble conduct of her boy remained. Mr. Lynton was told the whole story; and though he spoke very seriously to Hardy, it was not in displeasure, nor did he retract his promise of endeavoring to find him some suitable employment. Hardy could never forget Philip's kind- ness, or the earnest, pleading words he had spoken. The memory of that inter- view will remain with him till his dying hour ; and from that time he became an altered character. We do not mean that he suddenly became good and pious and unselfish, but that day was the turning- point in his life ; and Philip was the instrument, in God's hands, of working this happy change in one hitherto so unpromising. Suitable occupation was eventually obtained for Tom, but not before he had been reconciled to his father, through the kind intercession of Mr. Lynton ; but Mr. 170 LYNTONVILLE. Hardy having expressed a wish that he should have an opportunity of gaining experience elsewhere before settling again in Fairfield, Tom returned to Mid- borough, where he remained some years. Happily he fell into good hands, and as time advanced he was enabled, by the grace of God, to overcome the disadvan- tages of his early associations. If we take a glance into the future, we shall sep that he has so far gained the esteem and approbation of his fellow-citizens in a commendable and successful career, that if circumstances do not belie the expectations of his most sanguine friends, he will yet be a member of the Legisla- tive Council of his country. CONCLUSION. 171 CHAPTER XII. CONCLUSION. *' Be Btill, sad heart, and cease repining ; Behind the cloud is the sun still shining." *' Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning." March had set in with hard frosts and keen, biting winds, but every one rejoiced that the long winter was nearly- over; and as Philip seemed no worse than he had been for some months, hope began to grow strong in his mother's heart. But the doctor shook his head. "I fear the month of May more than any thing for him," he said one day to Mrs. Lynton; "the sudden changes of our climate are so trying to patients of this class. A sea- voyage might save him ; but I Ve not said so before, for in 172 LYNTONVILLE. Mrs. Quints circumstances it must be out of the o'ipstion." Philip, who was inclined to be rather desponding by nature, had long given up all hopes of recovering; and his most sorrowful thought was of the parting with his mother, and leaving her to fight the hard battle of life alone. Often thev would read together the descriptions of the heavenly land to which he seemed to be hastening, where there would be no more sorrow or parting, and where tears would be wiped from every eye. But the parting was not so near as Philip and his widowed mother feared, for the chastening hand which it had pleased God to lay upon them so long was about to be removed, and brighter days were in store. Not many days after Dr. Ford's last visit, a large packet of letters which had arrived by the last English mail was CONCLUSION. 173 brought in and laid before Mr. Lynton, as the custom of the house was, when the party were all assembled at breakfast. Every one was soon occupied in reading his own, when a sudden exclamation of surprise from Mr. Lynton attracted the attention of all. ** Well, this is passing strange ; in- deed, I may sa-y providential. My dear madam, let me congratulate you most warmly," said he, rising and shaking hands heartily with Mrs. Quin. "I have good news for you,*^ I am informed that your son, Philip Walter Quin, has just fallen heir to the property, real and per- sonal, of his uncle Capt. W. P. Quin, who died suddenly on the tenth of April last. A long and fruitless search has been made for him, and now this letter is sent to me as the magistrate of this district, making inquiries concerning the whereabouts of the said Philip Quin, 174 LYNTONVILLE. who is supposed to be living somewhere in the neighborhood, as his presence is required at once, if possible, in Eng- land. I think," he added smiling, '* I shall be able to give the requisite infor- mation." Astonishment took the place of every other feeling in Mrs. Quin's mind at these unexpected tidings. "But are you sure this is true?" she said, " for one chief cause of our leaving Ireland, and our consequent troubles, was an unhappy quarrel between my husband and his brother, and any hopes of help from that quarter I had entirely given up for years." ''Nevertheless it is undoubtedly true," replied Mr. Lynton, " for here are full particulars from his solicitor." Mrs. Quin took the letter; but her eyes were blinded by the fast-falling tears, as she thought that if this good CONCLUSION. 176 news had only come in time, her son might have been spared to her. "Oh," cried Mrs. Lynton, when she understood it all, **how thankful I am. It was only the other day Dr. Ford told me that a sea-voyage might yet save ""hilip, and I believe it will." The widow caught eagerly at her cheering words, and when the doctor came in later in the day and confirmed her most sanguine hopes, her joy and gratitude to the gracious Giver of all good things knew no bounds. "But 3'ou must break it to him very cautiously," said he, "for any great ex- citement in his weak state might prove fatal ; and the greatest care will be noc- essary in the land journey. Once get him to the sea, and there is not so much to fear." It was some time before the widowed mother could realize her happiness, for she hardly dared to believe that her be- 176 LYNTONVILLE. loved son might yet be spared to her. As she grew accustomed to the idea, and felt that their bitter days of poverty were over, her joy seemed almost too great. "How can 1 ever thank you, my dear, kind friends, for all you have done for me and mine?" she said. "Without your generous sympathy, our life would indeed have been sad — strangers and poor in a foroign land; but God will reward you." No one rejoiced more unfeignedly in the welcome tidings than Harry, and he showed his glee in the most characteris- tic manner. It was all they could do to prevent his rushing up to Philip at once, and telling him the whole story in his excited way ; but as this was strictly and seriously forbidden, he was obliged to content himself with fidgeting in and out of his room, and continually bursting out CONCLUSION. ~ 177 into little bits of ecstacy, rubbing his hands and muttering to himself, " Oh, is n't it jolly ?" Then, suddenly remem- bering that a weighty secret was entrust- ed to his keeping which he was on no account to divulge, he would try to look grave and pull on a long face, until the next happy thoughts of his friend's good fortune would set him off again. It must be confessed that all this was rather trying to the young invalid, who being unacquainted with the cause of his odd behavior wondered what could possess his light-hearted companion. But Harry's patience was not destined to be put to a very severe test. Towards evening, Mrs. Quin went up to sit with Philip in the twilight, as was her wont ; and for a few moments after her first loving inquiries they were silent, his thin hand resting in the warm, loving embrace of hers. "God has been very merciful to us, 12 h 178 LYNTONVILLE. my darling," she said softly at length, as he leaned his head against her. "Yes," he answered; but he spoke sadly, for he was thinking of the parting which seemed so near. Then he looked up in her face, as the flame from the open stove glanced upon it in the dim light, and he saw that, though her eyes were glistening with tears, it wore a joy- ful expression. *' What is it, mother? something has happened." "I have just received the news of your uncle Walter^s death, Philip." "Oh, mother; but that does not make you glad, does it?" "God forgive me," thought she, "I have been seliBsh in my joy. No, my boy," she said aloud, "though I never saw him ; but, Philip, it alters our cir- cumstances very much." " Oh, I am so glad, so thankful. Now I shall die without a care, if I think you CONCLUSION. 179 are provided for. God has indeed been good to us ;" and the tears rolled down his face. "Yes, darling; and suppose you were to get well, Philip ; suppose it were now in our power to use the only means of doing you good." "Mother," said he, **you would not say so if you had not good hopes : tell me, Oh do tell me ; is it true ?" ' * My son, in Grod's great mercy I believe it is, ^^ she replied solemnly. ' ' I would not, you know I would not, be so cruel as to raise false hopes ; but Dr. Ford assures me that a sea-voyage may yet restore you ; and now, thank God, we can go." "Oh, I am thankful, mother, dear mother. It would have been hard to part ; but if I am spared, may God give me grace to live more to his glory, and to be a greater comfort to you than I have been." The room grew darker and dark- IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I S IIIIIM iii^ 14 12.0 1.8 1.25 1.4 1.6 ^ 6" — ► V] <^ /}. c^ CW ^l '>'' /y V /A Photographic Sciences Corporation 33 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 ^ &p %> i?.r 180 LYNTONVILLE. er, but there was light and joy in their hearts, such as they had not known for many long days; and the mother and son rejoiced together in their great hap- piness. Little more remains to be told. Mr. Lynton had been long wishing for an op- portunity of sending Harry to finish his education in England, and though his parents were grieved at the thought of parting with him, yet they would no». ■ ::'e so good an opportunity; so it was at- ranged that he should accompany Mrs. Quin and Philip. Great care was taken of the young invalid, and they reached Quebec by short and easy stages. The journey did not try him so much even as they expected, and with the first breath of sea-air came a change for the better. They arrived in Liverpool after a pros- perous voyage, and soon after proceeded to London, where Harry sorrowfully CONCLUSION. 181 bade them farewell before entering alone upon the new and varied experiences of an English public school. He often miss- ed Philip's ready advice and help, and right glad was he when they met again once more. It was in Mrs. Quin's pleas- ant country residence that his happy holi- days were spent. Here was his second home, and he loved to call it so. Philip by this time had regained even more than his former health, and when Harry's holidays were over, he returned with him, to contend once more for the double honors of class and play-ground. The discipline of their early days was not lost upon either of them, and Philip especially never regretted the lessons of self-dependence and self-sacrifice which he had been taught in the stern school of adversity. And is there no truth that our young readers may learn from the little story 182 LYNTONVILLE. we have related? We think there is. The word of God tells us that "none of us liveth to himself." Each word and action of even the very youngest must exercise some influence for evil or for good on those around him ; and we have seen how Philip's quiet, consistent con- duct was the means, in God's hands, of leading one who seemed in every way most unpromising, to seek for pardon and peace through our Saviour Christ, who alone can bestow it. The work which God gives each one of us, young and old, to do, lies close to our hand ; and though the path of duty is sometimes rugged and steep, calling for patient self-denial, yet if we strive by God's grace to go straight forward in it, he will surely make use of our silent ex- ample for his own glory and the good of those about us. Years after, when Philip revisited the CONCLUSION. 183 scenes of his boyish trials, and once more renewed his acquaintance with his old companion and former foe, Tom Hardy, now become a good and worthy man, he was able to look back upon his early dis- cipline with thankfulness, and to feel that it had not been in vain that so many of *^is early days had been spent in the forest shades of i LYNTONVILLE. FOR CHILDREN AND YOUTH AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY, 150 NASSAU-STREET, NEW YORK. •*-¥• Flowers of Spring-time. Combming amusement and instruction in most attractive forms. One hundred and fifty Engravings. Quarto size. Home Scenes. An elegant small quarto for the family, with fourteen photographic pictures, fac-similes of fine Engravings. - , ' Views from Nature. Forty scenes in nature and art. Finely printed in tint. Songs for tlie Little Ones at Home. Attractive as ever. Beautifully illustrated. Lullabies, Ditties, and Tales. 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