the one straight path were her steps for ever bent. I was her only child, and on me was lavished all her love. At length the struggle in this hard-hearted place became too great even for her, so she took me away to rear under the bright sun of a lovely foreign city.

I played on the bank of that

Many an hour have river which flows

With how

so swiftly onward through its midst. much quiet regret do I now look back upon those days of happiness, when I was wild and heedless of aught save the passing pleasures of life. How often have I looked back and yearned for that time again; yet, alas! how rarely do we know when we are happy. Ah, little ones, I was wilful and selfish then, and must have caused my mother many a sad pang, many a deep solicitude, on my behalf. In time I grew discontented, and longed for a return to our home. One evening, as we strolled through the town, we talked the matter over. My mother, with tears in her eyes, told me we could not go; she had no money for travel; we must stop, for the present at any rate, where we were. To my boyish notions this seemed unkind, cruel even; but it was I who was the most unkind and cruel when I told that sweet woman So. We stayed on, until in time came from England that, by returning at

news

once, a situation was open for me; better still, the letter brought money for our journey; so we said good-bye to that fair Saxon city, that had so long and so kindly sheltered us. Cold and unfriendly looked the Modern Babylon as we glided up its muddy river to our new lives.

"Quickly too will I pass over particulars of the time of my sojourn amongst the business people of the city. It is not for me to say whether that time was well spent or not; but I may tell you that on leaving my employer's service, lavish praise of my conduct sounded in my ears, presents were given me, and a God-speed wished. But looking back upon that event with the experience of riper years, Great-heart tells you, darlings, that those men did him wrong. As I have said, they sent him away with no one single word of complaint or harshness; they sincerely wished him well in the path which lay before him; but there it ended.

Where they erred was

in this that they made no effort to find him aught else to do, whom they were pleased to say had served them well. I have told you that my mother was a widow, and poor; that I was dependent on my exertions therefore for pecuniary aid to her and myself you will understand. Out of what I received it was hardly possible to save,

so that when I stepped forth into those friendless streets, and, dull and sick at heart, passed on through the crowds of money-seekers, I was very nearly what it is not a desirable thing to be, a beggar. Mark well, not a ragged and tattered form of humanity, as the word might convey a picture to your minds; not one whose outward appearance told the tale of want to his fellowcreatures; but none the less bitterly, under the garb of gentleman born and bred, a beggar; a suppliant for charity at the feet of others. My character had, as it developed to manhood, become somewhat stern and serious; the boyish lightheartedness, as it had existed by the banks of the foreign river, flown. I must own to being at that time I am telling you of reserved, even cold, in manner; not one perhaps who would make many friends in this shallow-minded world; highly sensitive and retiring in disposition. All these qualities were terribly against me as a beggar. So, as I walked along, a cold chill struck at my heart as I felt that the plank of honest security on which I had so lately rested was slipping away from me, perhaps for ever. Patiently had I worked my way into a position of trust with those city merchants, into such a place that I might reasonably hope that it would prove a lasting one.

So

And now? Patted on the back, with presents and friendly wishes, without one word of blame or censure, I was sent adrift at a critical age into the world again. Practically, this is what those merchants said: 'Great-heart, you have been a good and faithful servant to us; you have worked well and honestly, gained our esteem and confidence; by your steadiness and uprightness you have probably added much to our incomes. far from being dissatisfied with you in any way, you have all our good wishes and our presents; we sincerely wish you well in any branch of life you may take up. But although you have thus well and faithfully served us, we do not consider it incumbent upon us to use our influence to secure you any other means of livelihood, or to trouble ourselves as to your future: "Each for himself, God for us all," is an old and trite saying, yet a true one. We have now no further need of you, our compact is at an end. Someone else will probably take your place, and in due time become our partner; but as it has been ordained, Great-heart, that you should be poor, you cannot of course aspire to that position. Bear in mind

of praise and

We know it

we have no other words than those regard for you; yet you must go. is a bad time: the whole country is paralysed

with fever as to an impending war; business is at a standstill; it is most difficult, almost impossible, to find employment. At every vacant loophole hundreds are crowding to gain that work which is only for the lucky one who forces an entrance. We are aware that foreigners come in shoals to our shores, and, by filling situations almost for nothing, take the bread from the mouths of our own countrymen. Yet, knowing all this, and, too, your character, so adverse to fighting the up-hill fight of life, we tell you to go, as we press this token of esteem upon your finger. Good bye, Great-heart, God bless you for an upright, trustworthy fellow.'

"This is in reality what those merchants said, although the words did not pass their lips, as they shook hands with me, and sent me adrift.

"I fear that many bitter thoughts of discontent filled my mind at that time, and through the days that were before me. It seemed so hard to have got thus far, and not only no further, but to be actually slipping backward, losing ground. I will tell you, little children, what is, in my opinion, one of the greatest miseries for a man to endure when a time comes to him that he loses confidence in himself; when his self-trust, self-respect, give way; when either by misfortune, ill-health, or what not, his