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Title: How a Farthing Made a Fortune; or "Honesty is the best policy"

Author: C. E. Bowen

Release date: June 22, 2017 [eBook #54961]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by R.G.P.M. van Giesen


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOW A FARTHING MADE A FORTUNE; OR "HONESTY IS THE BEST POLICY" ***




Produced by R.G.P.M. van Giesen




[Illustration: cover art]




HOW A FARTHING MADE A FORTUNE




[Illustration: "DICK HAD TO BE BUSY." _p_. 55.]




HOW A FARTHING MADE A FORTUNE

OR

"HONESTY IS THE BEST POLICY."



BY MRS. C. E. BOWEN

_Authoress of "Jack the Conqueror," "How Paul's Penny became a
Pound," "How Peter's Pound became a Penny," "The Brook's Story,"
etc., etc._



_THIRD EDITION._



LONDON
S. W. PARTRIDGE & CO.
9 PATERNOSTER ROW.




Hazell, Watson, and Viney, Ltd. Printers, London and Aylesbury.




  CONTENTS.

  CHAPTER I. DICK AND THE APPLES

  CHAPTER II. DICK'S MISTAKE

  CHAPTER III. A NEW HOME

  CHAPTER IV. LIFE AT DENHAM COURT

  CHAPTER V. THE VISITOR AT THE LODGE

  CHAPTER VI. SIR JOHN'S PROPOSAL

  CHAPTER VII. RETURNING GOOD FOR EVIL




  Illustrations

  "DICK HAD TO BE BUSY." _p_. 55
  "I WANT TO SPEAK A WORD TO YOU, MY MAN."
  "THERE, MY LAD, HOLD IT FIRMLY; THE HORSE IS QUIET ENOUGH."
  SUSAN AND DICK IN THE RAILWAY-CARRIAGE.
  THE MEETING OF MR WALTERS AND DICK.
  "HE RAISED HIS LANTERN AND LOOKED BEHIND A TIER OF SHELVES."




HOW A FARTHING MADE A FORTUNE;
OR, "HONESTY IS THE BEST POLICY."



CHAPTER I.

DICK AND THE APPLES.


FEW children, if any, who read this tale will probably be able to
form any idea of such a wretched home as that in which lived little
Dick Nason, the ragman's son. There are houses and rooms in some of
the back streets in London where men, women, and children herd almost
like wild beasts--haunts of iniquity and misery, and where the name
of God is never heard except in the utterance of terrible oaths or
execrations. Such was Roan's Court, a place which gave the police
continual trouble, and many a hard blow in the execution of their
duty. The houses were let out in rooms, of which the upper ones were
the most healthy, as possessing a little more light and air than the
others; but the cellar floors were almost destitute of both these
common luxuries of life, being sunk considerably below the level of
the court, and the windows, consisting of four small panes of glass,
begrimed with dirt, or if broken, as was generally the case, stuffed
up with dirty rags or paper.

It was in one of these cellar rooms that Dick Nason had been born,
and in which he lived till he was twelve years old. _How_ he had
lived, _how_ he had been fed, and _how_ clothed, it would be
difficult to imagine. His mother had been a tidy sort of woman in her
younger days, gaining her living as a servant in the family of a
small tradesman. But she married a man who was not of sober habits,
and who in consequence lost all steady employment, and sank lower and
lower till he was reduced to the position of a ragman, going about to
collect clothes, bones, rabbit-skins, and such odds and ends as he
could scrape together from the servants. The trade was not an
unlucrative one on the whole, but Nason spent so much in drink, and
his wife having fallen into the same bad habit, kept so little of
what she could contrive to get from her husband for household
purposes, that they seldom sat down to a regular meal, but scrambled
on in a wretched way, becoming every year more degraded and more
confirmed in their habits of intemperance.

Such was the home in which little Dick was reared. Fortunately he was
the only child. His father took little notice of him. His mother was
not without affection for him, but it was constantly deadened by the
almost stupefied state in which she lived. The child seldom knew real
hunger, for there was generally something to be found in the
three-cornered cupboard to which he had free access, nor did he often
get the hard words and blows that are so apt to fall to the lot of
the unfortunate children of drinking parents. Neither Nason nor his
wife were ranked amongst the more brawling and disorderly inhabitants
of Roan's Court; though drink stupefied and rendered them helpless
and good-for-nothing often for days together, especially after Nason
had had a good haul into his big clothes-bag, and had turned its
contents into money. But as for the dirt, untidiness, and general
discomfort of their abode, they might have won the prize in this
respect had one been offered for the most wretched room.

Dick was a queer little figure to look at, though he had the
brightest face possible. He used to be clothed entirely out of his
father's rag-bag. Nason had three of these bags, which hung up on
three nails in their cellar room. One was blue, made of strong
material, for the reception of old garments; the second, of stout
canvas, was for rabbit-skins; and the third for bones. Out of the
blue bag used to come forth jackets, which were by no means worn out,
as well as jackets well patched and darned. The latter always fell to
Dick's share, as the better ones were more valuable to turn into
cash. As to the fit, that was considered to be utterly unimportant.
If only they were large enough for Dick to squeeze into them, or
small enough for him to be able to walk about in them, that was
deemed sufficient; so the little fellow would at one time be seen to
be almost bursting through his things from their tightness, and at
another he looked like a walking clothes-peg with his garments
hanging loosely upon him. But it was all the same to Dick, whether
they were tight or loose, and his bright eyes and curly head were
what people looked at most after all. Dick's life for the first few
years was a very free and easy one. He made dirt pies beautifully as
soon as he was able to walk, being instructed in that art by some
children a little older than himself who lived next door. Then came
the ball-playing age--for even the poorest youngsters contrive to get
balls somehow or other--and Dick had his to roll about long before he
knew how to play with it. A little later on his amusement was to
stroll about the streets, peep in at the shop windows, look longingly
at the tempting piles of oranges and lollipops on the stalls at the
corner of the street, and occasionally, but very rarely, produce a
halfpenny from his pocket with which to purchase a scrap of the said
lollipops, or one of the smallest and most sour of the oranges.

But the greatest delight of Dick's life was to go to Covent Garden
Market to look at the flowers, his love for which seemed born with
him in a remarkable degree. He was in a perfect ecstasy of delight
the first time he went there in company with some other children, who
like himself had nothing to do but to stroll about the streets. What
they looked at with indifference, Dick gazed upon with rapture, and
from that day he constantly found his way to the same spot, which was
at no great distance from Roan's Court. He was there so often that
his appearance became familiar to the stall-holders, and they
sometimes employed him in running errands or doing little jobs for
them, rewarding him with an apple or orange, or, if it were towards
the evening, perhaps a bunch of flowers that had begun to fade.
Nothing ever pleased him so much as to have them to take home; and
then he tenderly put them in a cracked mug on the window seat, where
he could see them as soon as he awoke in the morning. In after years
he used to say that his first idea of God was taken from those
flowers; that their beauty carried off his mind in wonder as to the
greatness of the Power that made them. The strange contrast between
them in all their loveliness and the dingy dirty room he lived in,
had doubtless much to do with the effect they produced on his mind.

Dick knew little about religion. Once or twice he had peeped into a
church when service was going on, but had not cared to stay long; not
at all understanding what he heard, and feeling rather alarmed at the
man in the black gown whom he saw sitting near the door to keep
order.

But though Dick was a stranger to both church and Sunday-school, an
instructor was raised up for him in a quarter no one would have
expected. Not far from Covent Garden, in a single room, lived an old
man named John Walters, who had a small pension from a gentleman
whose servant he had once been, and who increased his means by doing
a variety of jobs about the market, where he was quite an
institution. This old man loved his God and loved his Bible. He lived
quite alone. His wife had been dead some years, and the only child he
ever had, a boy, died of measles when he was about twelve years of
age.

Perhaps it was the remembrance of this boy made him notice little
Dick as he lingered day after day about the market; but he might
never have spoken to him had it not been for an incident which we
will relate.

One day as a woman from the country was beginning to put up her fruit
and vegetables, she tripped and upset her basket of apples, which
rolled away in every direction. Dick was standing near and helped to
pick them up. The woman was anxious to collect them all, for they
were a valuable sort of apple which sold for a good price for
dessert, and every one was precious. Several rolled away to a
distance and lodged under a heap of empty hampers. Dick ran amongst
the hampers and picked them up; as he did so he slipped three of them
into the capacious pockets of the very loose clothes he had on, which
had lately been produced from the blue bag and would have fitted a
boy nearly twice his size. There was an Eye above that saw him commit
this theft, that Almighty Eye which never sleeps; but there was also
a human one upon the little boy at the moment, and it was that of old
John Walters. He was standing very near, but was concealed by some
tall shrubs. He saw Dick turn round to look if any one could see him
before he put the apples in his pocket, and this made him watch what
he was about; and he also saw him go up to the woman with several
apples in his hands, which he gave her. She warmly thanked him, and
returned him one as a present for the trouble he had taken. It was
getting late in the afternoon, and Walters was soon going home. He
felt unhappy about Dick, who reminded him of his own boy. He thought
he looked like a neglected lad who had no one to teach him how wrong
it is to steal. He did not like to bring him into disgrace and
trouble in the market by accusing him of taking the apples, neither
did he feel it would be right in him to see a child steal and take no
notice. "For," thought he, "if he goes on from one thing to another
he may come to be a housebreaker in course of time; but if stopped
now, a boy with such a face as that may become an honest, good man."
Then after a few minutes' thought he said to himself, "'Tis one of
Christ's little ones, and so for the Master's sake I'll have a try at
him." Meanwhile Dick was devouring the apple the woman had given him,
with the not unpleasant recollection that the pleasure to his palate
would be repeated three times over, since he had three more in his
pocket. I am afraid the said pleasure was in no way diminished by the
consciousness that they were stolen. I do not mean to say that he was
a thief habitually, for he was not. Some boys make thieving a trade
and exult in it. Dick had sometimes purloined what was not his own,
in the same manner that he had done the apples. He did not look out
for opportunities, but if one such as this came in his way he did not
try to resist the temptation.

He was rather startled when he felt some one lay a hand firmly on his
shoulder. It was the hand of John Walters, who said to him--

"I want to speak a word to you, my man. Come home with me and I'll
give you a cup of tea. I'm going to have mine directly." Dick looked
up into his face. It was a very kindly one, though rough and furrowed
with years; He did not feel afraid of it; so he went off with
Walters, for the cup of tea sounded tempting. It was not often such a
chance fell in his way. He walked by the old man's side and answered
all his questions as to his name, and where he lived, and what his
father did, etc., and by the time Walters knew all about him, they
had arrived at the room which he rented in a small back street of
some people who kept a little shop.

It was but a humble abode, but it seemed a palace to Dick compared
with his own. In the first place, it was quite clean, for the woman
of whom Walters rented it was careful to keep it well swept, and he
himself did all the tidying and dusting part. Then the furniture was
better than what Dick was accustomed to see in any of the rooms in
Roan's Court. There was a little round table in the middle of the
room, and another at the side with two or three large books on it.


[Illustration: "I WANT TO SPEAK A WORD TO YOU, MY MAN."]


And there was a cupboard in one corner and a narrow bedstead in
another, and over the bedstead was laid a large tiger-skin which
Walters' master had given him many years before, and which served as
an ornament by day and a warm covering for cold nights. Also there
was a shelf over the side table with a few books on it. Walters was a
good scholar, and had always been fond of reading, but of late years
he had cared for few books except his Bible and Prayer-book, which
gave evidence of being often used.

Walters told Dick to sit down, and he gave him a book with some
pictures of animals in it to look at whilst he made tea; but the boy
could not help watching Walters and his doings, which had greater
attractions than his book, on the whole. First he put a match to the
fire, which was laid ready for lighting. Then he went out with his
kettle and fetched some water. Next he unlocked the cupboard, and
brought out a tea-pot and two blue and white cups and saucers, and a
half-loaf of bread and some butter. He set them on the table very
tidily, and then going out again, he went into the little shop on the
other side of the passage and bought two or three slices of bacon of
his landlady, who sold provisions. These he fried in a little pan
that was hung up by the fireside, and when the water was poured into
the tea-pot, and the frizzling, delicious-smelling bacon was lifted
off the fire and put on a dish on the table, Dick's mouth watered so
that he could scarcely wait to be told to begin and eat. "Now then,
Dick, come along," said Walters, and Dick needed no second bidding.
He pulled his chair in an instant close to the table, and taking his
seat, looked ready for action. But old Walters had something else to
do before he would begin. He told Dick he was going to say grace, and
bade him stand, which he did, and looked rather wonderingly at the
old man as he took his little black cap off his head, and raising his
hands, asked God to bless the food His goodness had given them. The
boy had never seen this done before, and it puzzled him; but the next
moment he forgot all about it in the pleasure of satisfying his
hunger with the bacon and bread, of which Walters cut him a large
slice. His kind-hearted host ate very little himself; but he enjoyed
watching Dick's satisfaction, and perhaps wished he had not to do so
disagreeable a thing as to tell his young guest that he had seen him
stealing.

When tea was over, the methodical old gentleman washed up the cups
and saucers and plates, and put everything away in the cupboard. Then
he said--

"Now, Dick, I have something to say to you--something you won't like
half as much as eating the bacon. You have some apples in your
pockets, which you stole from the woman when she dropped them and
they rolled under the hamper. Dick, it is a very shocking thing to be
a thief, and yet you _are_ one!"

Poor Dick's blue eyes grew enormous, and his cheeks became scarlet.
He knew too well that when thieves were detected their fate was to be
carried off to prison. He began to suspect he had been entrapped, and
that Walters was a policeman in disguise; yet it seemed strange if he
were going to be punished that he should begin by giving him such a
good tea. He had no time to collect his ideas, for Walters was
waiting for him to speak; he could only fly to the resource of trying
to help himself by telling a falsehood, so he said that the woman had
given them to him.

"No, Dick, that is untrue; she gave you one only, which you ate."

More and more alarmed at finding how thoroughly acquainted Walters
was with the late transaction, Dick began to cry and begged him to
let him off. The kind-hearted old man drew the boy to his side, and
told him he was not going to punish him or tell anybody about his
theft; and when his tears were completely dried, he said--

"But there is One who does know it, my boy, and who will one day
punish you for stealing and telling stories if you go on thus, and if
you do not feel sorry for this and other naughty deeds you have
done."

And then he talked of things very new to little Dick. He spoke of sin
and of hell, and of Jesus Christ, and of repentance and heaven, in
such simple words as came naturally to the old man, who was simple as
a child himself, and yet was wiser and more learned in these precious
truths than many a great scholar. He talked till the blue eyes
brimmed over with tears again, but this time not with terror lest he
was going to be sent to prison, but with sorrow for having done so
wrongly. For Dick had a very tender heart, and one that was quite
ready to receive all that was said to him. He brought the three
apples out of his pockets and asked Walters to take them away from
him.

"But they are not mine; I can't take them," he said.

"Then I will throw them away," said Dick.

"That will not be right," said Walters, "for they are not yours to
throw away; they are the woman's."

Dick looked bewildered; he did not know what to do with them.

"I think you ought to give them back to their owner," said Walters.
"I know her, and she is very kind and will forgive you directly, I am
sure. If you are really sorry, you will be glad to take them back to
her. Suppose you leave them here till to-morrow, and then come, and I
will go with you to her stall." Dick promised, and then old Walters
kneeled down with the little boy by his side, and he prayed--

"O dear Lord, forgive this young child for what he has done wrong,
and help him not to steal and tell stories any more, for Thy dear Son
Jesus Christ's sake. Amen."

Then Dick ran home, thinking all the way of what Walters had been
talking about.

The next morning when he woke he saw his little mug of flowers
standing on the window-sill, and the old thought came into his mind
about God making such beautiful things, and he felt very sorry that
he had offended God the day before, and ventured to say a little
prayer to Him himself, the very first that had passed his lips--

"O God, who made the flowers, please make me a good boy. I don't mean
to steal apples any more, or tell stories."

A little later on, Dick learnt to ask for God's _help_ to keep him
from stealing and lying and doing wrong things.

And old Walters had his prayer that morning about Dick--

"O God, I am old and not able to do much for Thee, but help me to
teach the little boy Thy ways. Amen."

He was very glad when Dick came running in, for he was half afraid he
might shirk the business of taking the apples back to the woman. It
showed that he was really sorry, and willing to punish himself by
doing a disagreeable thing; for it was of course very disagreeable to
go and own that he had stolen the apples. Let all children who read
this little tale remember, that when we do any wrong thing, it is
right that we should suffer for it. It is not enough merely to tell
God we are sorry and to ask His forgiveness; we must prove to God and
to ourselves that we really _are_ grieved for our sin by humbling
ourselves to ask pardon of those to whom we have done wrong, and by
trying to repair the wrong. If we shrink from this when it is in our
power to do it, we may be pretty sure that our penitence is not of
the kind to lead us to hope that our fault will be forgiven by God;
and if He does not forgive our fault, then it will rise up before us
in that day when all, both small and great, must appear before the
judgment-seat of God.

The woman, Mrs. Needham by name, was greatly surprised when Walters
came to her stall as she was laying it out, and told her that Dick
wished to return her three apples he had been tempted to put into his
pockets the day before. Poor Dick scarcely said a word himself, he
felt so frightened lest Mrs. Needham should be very angry; but she
only spoke kindly to him, and said she hoped he would never do such a
thing again. Indeed, she was just going to give him back one of the
apples; but Walters was wiser, and shook his head at her and led Dick
away. He knew it would be bad for the boy to be rewarded for taking
back the stolen fruit. That afternoon when Mrs. Needham and Walters
happened to be together for a few minutes, she talked to him about
Dick, and he told her how he had tried to show the boy the sin of
stealing.

"After all, though," said the soft-hearted woman, who was more kind
than wise, "it was no such great thing he did. An apple or two he
just slipped into his pocket when he had the chance, that was all."

But Walters turned to her, and laying his hand on her arm, said
almost solemnly--

"And what turned Adam and Eve out of Paradise and brought sin upon
millions and millions of us, Mrs. Needham? Why, the taking of an
apple, and '_that was all!_'"

"Well, Walters, you've your own way of talking about these things,
and you understand them better than I do, because you're so
Bible-read."

Mrs. Needham was prevented saying more, because a customer just then
came up to purchase some of the very apples in question.




CHAPTER II.

DICK'S MISTAKE.


FROM that day Dick had a friend in old Walters--a very humble one,
but of priceless worth to the neglected child. He encouraged him to
come often to his room to see him, and finding he could not read, he
commenced to try to teach him. He bought a spelling-book, and began
what was in truth a most difficult and arduous task to one of his
age. But Dick was quick, and Walters persevering, and in course of
time the letters were mastered, and then came words of one syllable.
After that progress was rapid. A copy-book next appeared on the
scene, and the constant inky state of Dick's fingers bore grimy
testimony to the industry of both master and pupil. It was a proud
day for them both when the boy could write his name quite legibly and
neatly in the little Prayer-book which Walters had promised should be
his whenever he could do so.

But it was not only the art of reading and writing that Dick was
acquiring from his newly-found friend. Lessons of far higher value
were being constantly given to him by Walters, whose heart was full
of love for his Saviour, and who longed to bring this little lamb
into His fold, and secure him against all the temptations that, with
such parents and in such a neighbourhood as Roan's Court, he would be
subjected to as he grew older. Fortunately for Dick, his father's and
mother's carelessness about him turned to good account by enabling
him to be a great deal with Walters. On Sundays he went often with
him to church, instead of as formerly playing all day in the court or
back streets with other idle, uncared-for children. This was a real
pleasure to him, for the music possessed as great a fascination for
him as flowers.

For some time things went on thus. Dick was getting older and taller,
and Walters thought it was time for him to have some regular
employment. He was so interested in the lad that he took a walk to
Roan's Court one day to speak to his parents about him; but it was
unfortunately an evening when they were neither of them quite in a
state to be talked to on the subject. He left them in disgust, and
with feelings of deep pity for their child. He did not know how to
help him, for he lived his own lonely life, knowing scarcely any one;
certainly no one who could be of use to Dick. He consulted his
landlady, but she could give no advice, and only remarked that "boys
were troublesome creatures, and of no use whilst young." The poor
woman had two of her own, for whom she had difficulty in providing,
so she spoke feelingly. But though Walters was unable to serve the
lad in this respect, he had been unconsciously paving the way for a
bright future for him by teaching him honesty and the fear of God.

One morning as Dick was going down the Strand with another boy, they
stopped to look in at a shop window just as a gentleman drew up his
horse at the door, and looked round for some one to come and hold it
whilst he entered the shop. Dick ran forward and offered himself.
The gentleman gave one look at his pleasant face and put the bridle
into his hand, saying, "There, my lad, hold it firmly; the horse is
quiet enough."

He was some time in the shop, which was a bookseller's, and he was
looking over books. Once or twice he came to the door to see that all
was right with his horse, and finding that Dick was holding him
carefully, he gave him a nod and returned into the shop. Dick thought
his face was a very kind one. When he had finished his business and
came out to remount his horse, he put his hand into his pocket and
took out some coppers wrapped in paper, and giving them to Dick,
said--

"There, my lad, take these. I don't know how many pence you will find
inside the paper, but the more there are the better for you."

He was just going to ride off, when the shopman came to the door and
asked him some question, to which he replied in a loud voice--

"Let them be sent to No.-- Grosvenor Square."

Dick eagerly opened the paper; there were four pennies inside--and he
stared with amazement, there was also a small, very bright yellow
coin!

He had only once or twice seen a sovereign in his life, and never had
had one in his hand. His companion, a boy named Larkins who lived
near Roan's Court, uttered an exclamation. "Why, Dick, he's given you
a bit of yellow money; you lucky fellow!" Dick gave quite a shout of
joy.


[Illustration: "THERE, MY LAD, HOLD IT FIRMLY; THE HORSE IS QUIET
ENOUGH."]


He felt almost giddy, and as if a large fortune had fallen into his
hands.

"I tell you what, Dick," said Larkins, who secretly hoped he might
come in for a share of the money, "don't you be looking at it like
that here in the street, or people will think you've no business with
it. Yellow money doesn't often come to the like of us; and, I say,
don't you go telling your father or mother of your luck, or they'll
take it from you and go and spend it in drink."

Dick did not reply; he was wrapping up the coppers and the yellow bit
as carefully in the paper as when they were given him, and he put the
little parcel in his jacket pocket.

"I say, Dick," continued Larkins, "what are you going to do with it?
How shall you spend it? Won't you go and have a good feed at the
cook-shop to begin with?"

Dick heard, and a savoury thought about hot meat and potatoes crossed
his mind; but he put it away again, for more important ideas were
floating there. His countenance was grave and thoughtful. "I don't
think," said he, "that the gentleman _meant_ to give me yellow money.
He said there were pence inside the paper. I'm quite sure he did not
know there was any gold there."

"Why, then, all the better for you that he made a mistake," said
Larkins. "What a lucky thing that he did not look to see what there
was inside the paper before he gave it you!"

Time was, before he knew old Walters, that Dick would have thought so
too, but now he could not feel any pleasure in taking possession of
what it was not intended he should have.

"I should like to give it back to the gentleman," he said. "It would
be like stealing, I think, if I kept it."

"Well, you _would_ be a silly chap to do that," exclaimed
Larkins--"but one good thing is, you can't give it back; you don't
know where he lives."

"Yes, I think I do," said Dick. "He said that something was to be
sent to No.-- Grosvenor Square; so he lives there, I daresay, and I
can find him, perhaps."

Larkins' indignation was very great at his stupid folly, as he called
it. His visions of being treated to a hot dinner at the cook-shop
were melting away. Then he tried ridicule: called him "A young
saint," "Pious Dick," "Parson Dick," "Preaching Dick," but all to no
purpose. At length Dick escaped from his teasing by taking the
turning which led to Walters' lodging, whose advice he wished to ask.

He was out. Then he went and looked for him in the market, but he was
not to be found.

"I know he would tell me I ought to try and find the gentleman," he
said to himself, "so I'll go at once."

He knew his way about London pretty well, though it was not often he
had been to the West End, and he had to ask his road once or twice
before he could find Grosvenor Square. When he got there it was some
time before he could discover the number he wanted, and when he did
at last pause before No.--, he felt quite frightened at seeing what a
grand house it was. The doors looked so tall, and the knockers so
high up, it was impossible to reach them. Then he remembered it would
not be right for a poor boy to go to the front door, so he turned and
went to the area gate and looked down the flight of steps that led to
the kitchen. It took a great deal of courage to descend them and
knock at the door below--more than he could all at once summon to his
aid--and he stood irresolute, with the handle of the gate in his
hand.

He went down at length and knocked timidly at the kitchen door. No
one came, so after some time he knocked again and louder. It was
opened by a girl, who asked him what he wanted.

"Please, I want to see the gentleman who said he lived here," said
Dick.

The girl stared, and made him repeat his words. This time he spoke
rather plainer, and said he wanted to see a gentleman who had given
him some money an hour or two ago, in the Strand, for holding his
horse.

A servant in livery crossed the passage at this moment, and heard
what he said. He came to the door and exclaimed harshly--

"And so, because he gave you some money, you have come here hoping to
get more, you young vagabond. That's always the way with you
beggars."

"I'm not come to beg," replied Dick, indignantly. "I'm come to give
the gentleman money, not to ask him for it."

"Did the gentleman bid you come?" asked the man.

"No," said Dick.

"Did any one send you?"

"No," was again the reply.

"And yet you say you've come to give the gentleman money, and not to
beg," said the servant. "Now, youngster, take my advice--get off
from here as fast as you can go, for it strikes me you are lurking
about for no good. There's a bobby not far off who will come if I
call him."

He shut the door in Dick's face, and the servant girl went back into
the kitchen, and amused her companions by telling them that a boy had
just come under the pretence of wanting to give some money to the
master.

"That's just what those young rascals do," remarked the cook. "They
are taught by the thieves who employ them to go to gentlemen's houses
with some pretence that shall get them admitted inside--and then,
whilst waiting, they take notice of doors and windows and bolts and
keys, and go and tell their masters, who know how to set to work at
night with their instruments when they come to break in. I daresay
that that boy has been taking stock of the lower part of the house,
for now I think of it, I saw a boy some time ago standing on the top
of the area steps and looking down at the door and windows. This lad
is the same, no doubt. He'll be as likely as not to come to-night
with a practised house-breaker or two and try to get in."

"Oh, dear!" exclaimed Susan, the before-named girl, who slept in a
room on the area floor with another kitchen domestic. "Dear me, cook!
do you really think so? I'm sure I shan't dare to go to bed
to-night."

"Take the poker to bed with you, and never fear," said the cook. "I
should take a real pleasure in bringing it down on the back of a man
if he had got in. I wish I'd the chance."

"Then do please, cook, change rooms with me to-night," exclaimed poor
Susan, who was pale with fright, and too inexperienced in the study
of human character to know that bragging was not courage. "I'm sure I
should only scream if they came. I'm not brave like you."

But cook shirked exchanging rooms, saying the reason was that she
could not sleep comfortably in any bed but her own, or else she'd do
it with the greatest of pleasure.

While this conversation was going on in the kitchen, the innocent
subject of it had ascended the steps, and was walking away from the
house, when he heard the clatter of horse's hoofs behind him, and,
looking round, he saw the very gentleman he was in search of coming
through the square at a rapid pace. Dick recognised him in a moment,
and was rejoiced to see him stop in front of No.--.

He jumped off his horse, and, as he was about to enter the house, he
caught sight of Dick, who was bowing and trying to attract his
attention.

"Ah, my little man," he said; "why, are not you the same small chap
that held my horse in the Strand this morning?"

"Yes, sir; and, please, I have come to tell you that you gave me
yellow money by mistake amongst the pence--a whole sovereign! So I
have brought it for you." And he took the little packet out of his
pocket and held it to him.

"What do you mean, my boy?" said Sir John Tralaway, for such was the
name of the gentleman. "There surely was no gold amongst the coppers
I gave you?" and he undid the paper.

A smile passed over his lips as he examined the contents. Then he
looked attentively at Dick. "And so," said he, "you have brought the
money back to me because you thought I had given you more than I
intended. How did you find out where I lived?"

"I heard you tell the shopman to send some things to No.-- Grosvenor
Square," said Dick, "and so I thought I had better come here."

"You are an honest, good boy," said Sir John; "and though you have
made a mistake, and taken a bright new farthing fresh from the Mint
for a sovereign, yet it is all the same thing in the sight of God,
and in my eyes too, as if it had been indeed a piece of gold. Did you
ever see a sovereign?" he asked.

"Never but once or twice," replied Dick, "and they looked exactly
like that;" and he pointed to the bright yellow farthing in Sir
John's fingers.

"Your mistake is a very natural one, my boy. Eyes more accustomed
than yours to look at gold might easily have been deceived. Now come
in with me and tell me all about yourself, and where you learned to
be so honest."

Sir John took him into a little room by the side of the hall door,
and asked him many questions. He was a man of well-known benevolence,
who was ever doing some deed of public or private charity. The
circumstance of Dick bringing him what he supposed to be a sovereign
given by mistake touched him greatly. He listened with interest to
what he told him about Walters, who was evidently a character rarely
to be met with in his class of life, and told Dick to ask him to call
and see him the next day at a given hour.

When he dismissed him, he gave him half-a-crown, and said he should
not lose sight of him. Dick did not quite understand what he meant by
that, but was sure it was something kind, and he ran off, one of the
happiest little boys in all London.

He had so much to tell Walters, he scarcely knew where to begin. The
old man was indeed pleased to hear that Dick's principles had stood
fire under a strong temptation, and he hoped he might find a friend
in Sir John at the very time he most needed one.

The next morning, Walters gave an extra brushing to his coat, an
extra polish to his boots, and an extra smoothing to his Sunday hat
before setting forth to Grosvenor Square. He seldom now went near the
mansions of the rich, though in former days his duties had lain
amongst them almost entirely.

Sir John received him with great kindness, nay, even with respect,
for what Dick had said had filled him with admiration for him.
Walters told him about Dick's miserable home, and of the sad example
set him by his parents and the other inmates of Roan's Court. He
mentioned his is love for flowers, which had first made him hover so
constantly about Covent Garden Market, and so had brought him under
his notice.

"Then it is to you," said Sir John, "that this little fellow is
indebted for the high principle which brought him here yesterday with
the supposed sovereign?"

"It's little I have been able to do for him," replied the old man,
"but God has blessed that little, and He has given the child a
tender, teachable mind, and a grateful, loving heart. But I wish he
could be taken out of that wicked Roan's Court, where they are a
drunken, dishonest lot, and his parents are as good as no parents to
him."

"He _shall_ be taken away, my good man," replied Sir John. "I will
think the matter over, and see you again. I suppose his parents will
not object to any plan for the boy's good?"

"Not they, Sir John. They never look after him; they leave him to
play about and shift for himself. I believe they would be glad enough
to have him taken off their hands."

"Do you think he would like to be brought up as a gardener?" asked
Sir John. "As he is so fond of flowers, I should think his tastes
would lie that way."

"It would be just what would suit him," said Walters. "The lad is
wild after flowers. The first thing he did yesterday after you gave
him half a-crown, was to go and spend a shilling of it in buying a
rose-tree in a pot for my window. The little chap wanted to give me
something, so he bought what he cared most about himself."

"Well, Walters, you have been a true friend to this boy, and God will
bless you for it; he shall be my care now, and I will try and follow
up the good work you have begun. I have a plan in my head which, if
it can be carried out, will, I think, be all you could wish for your
little friend. Will you come here again next Monday and bring Dick
with you? and by that time I hope I shall have arranged matters."

Sir John was as good as his word. When Walters and Dick went to
Grosvenor Square at the time appointed, he asked the boy whether he
would like to live in the country, and learn gardening and the
management of flowers. Dick's face was worth looking at, so full was
it of intense happiness at the idea. There was no occasion for him to
express his assent in words.

"I have a very clever head gardener at my country house," said Sir
John; "and I have written to him about you. I shall board you in his
house; and if you continue to be a good boy, and try to please him by
your attention and industry, I am sure you will be very happy with
him and his wife; and in the gardens you will find yourself in the
midst of abundance of your friends the flowers." Sir John then gave
Walters money with which to buy Dick two suits of clothes and such
other things as he would require, and asked him to settle the matter
with his parents.

The London season being nearly over, the family were going out of
town in a fortnight, and Dick was to go down to Denham Court, Sir
John's country place, with some of the servants, a short time before
the rest of the party.

It was not in Dick's power to say much by way of thanks; his heart
was too full. But Walters, who was scarcely less pleased, spoke for
him. When they had left the house and were walking down the Square,
Walters said--

"Dick, you are proving the truth of those words in your copy-book
which you wrote yesterday, that 'Honesty is the best policy.'"




CHAPTER III.

A NEW HOME.


WE have now to request our readers to follow Dick to a very different
scene to that of Roan's Court. His parents were glad he had found
such grand friends, and were quite willing to part with him. They
were not improving in their habits, but rather the reverse. Walters
did as Sir John had requested, and bought the boy suitable clothes
and other necessaries for his new position in life. He looked so
different when dressed in a cloth suit, with a white collar and black
necktie, that he could scarcely be recognised for the same boy who
had worn the old garments out of the blue clothes bag. The children
in Roan's Court gathered round him when he first appeared in his new
attire on the day he was to leave altogether, and stared at their old
playmate with astonishment. A few of the elder ones, amongst whom was
Larkins (who had never got over the hot dinner disappointment),
derided him, called after him "Gentleman Dick," and other nicknames.
He was not sorry when he was fairly out of hearing, and on his way to
Walters, who had promised to go with him to Grosvenor Square, and say
good-bye there. An omnibus was standing at the door when they
arrived, which was to take the servants to the station. It was being
loaded under the eye of a manservant. When he saw Walters and Dick,
he directed them to go down into the kitchen, where all was bustle
and confusion from the hurry of departure. Amongst the servants going
away was Susan, who had been so terrified lest Dick should prove an
accomplice of burglars. She looked at him with very complacent
feelings now, for Sir John had told the story of the bright farthing,
and explained that he had spoken truth when he said he wanted to give
the gentleman some money and not to beg of him. With his usual kind
thoughtfulness, the baronet had been anxious that the servants should
feel an interest in their young fellow-traveller, who would naturally
be strange and shy amongst them all.

At length all was ready, and Dick was told to take his place in the
omnibus with the others. He was very sorry to say farewell to his
dear old friend, who, in his turn, felt as if his home would be
lonely without the bright, merry face he was so accustomed to see
popping in constantly.

"God bless you, my lad," he said. "Never forget your prayers.
Remember, those are my parting words to you."

Then came the rumbling of the omnibus, and the arrival at the
station; and after that the puffing of the steam-engine, and for the
first time Dick saw houses and churches rushing away from them, as it
seemed to him. Soon, great, busy London was left behind, and houses
and churches only came at intervals, but green fields and trees took
their place, and they were in the country, which was far more
beautiful than Dick's wildest dreams had ever pictured it. He was
quite surprised that all the servants talked away to each other, and
scarcely ever turned their heads to look out of the window. Susan was
the only one who seemed to understand his admiration. She was very
kind, and gave him her place in the corner that he might see better;
and she pointed out things to him, and told him the names of the
places they passed through, for she had been so often backwards and
forwards that the road was quite familiar to her and her
fellow-servants.

Towards evening they arrived at a station, where they stopped. Here
an open carriage was waiting, large enough to hold them all, and the
luggage followed in a cart. Dick had a delightful place on the box
between the driver and the footman, from which he could see the
hedges and trees, etc., to perfection as they drove rapidly past
them. After a drive of about a mile, they came in sight of a large
mansion standing on a rising ground in the midst of beautiful
gardens, which glowed with flowers of every colour. The carriage
stopped at a lodge, and now Dick was told he was to get down, as here
he was to live with the gardener and his wife. A pleasant,
motherly-looking woman appeared at the door, who was addressed as Mrs
Naylor. She gave the servants a kindly greeting, and as the carriage
drove on, took hold of Dick's hand, and said she was sure he must be
tired and hungry, and had better have some tea directly. She took him
into a nice pleasant kitchen, where a table was spread with a
substantial tea. Her little lads came running in to look at the new
boy, and to do justice to the viands. They were followed by Mr
Naylor, the gardener--a tall, fine-looking man, with a rather grave
face.


[Illustration: SUSAN AND DICK IN THE RAILWAY-CARRIAGE.]


He spoke kindly to Dick, and said he had heard all about him from Sir
John, and he hoped he would be a good boy, and then he should be glad
to have him to lodge in his house.

Dick thought he had never been so hungry or tasted such good food.
After tea, Mrs Naylor showed him a room in which he was to sleep. It
was very small, little more than a large closet, but there was in it
everything he could want, and it had a window looking into a garden
full of flowers. He was so thoroughly tired with his journey and with
the day's excitement, that Mrs Naylor proposed he should go to bed,
and he was thankful to do so. Probably no little boy in England slept
a sounder sleep or had a happier heart than our young hero that
night.




CHAPTER IV.

LIFE AT DENHAM COURT.


IT will be easier for the reader to imagine than for me to describe
the delight of a young London boy, removed from such a home as that
of Dick's in Roan's Court, to this in which he awoke the morning
after his arrival. Mrs Naylor was disposed to be pleased with her
young charge. Her husband at first thought him too young and ignorant
to have been worth transplanting from London to Denham Court. It was
"one of Sir John's whims," he said to his wife. However, the liberal
board that they were to receive for him was not to be despised, and
being so young was a fault which he would gradually grow out of. Then
as for his ignorance, he soon found it was not so great as he
supposed. Thanks to Walters, he could read and write very fairly; and
what astonished Naylor greatly, was finding he knew the names of
almost all the flowers in the gardens, and of some in the
greenhouses. He had supposed he would not know a bit of groundsel
from a fern, he said. But the mystery was explained when he found
that he had been so constantly in Covent Garden Market, where he had
contrived to learn the different names of shrubs and flowers as few
other boys would have done. There were a good many men employed about
the grounds, and several boys, who came from the village every
morning and returned home to their meals and to sleep at night. Dick
was looked at with curiosity at first, because Sir John had sent him
down from London and was boarding him at his head gardener's. It was
all very new and strange to him, and he could not help feeling rather
lonely at times. Sir John and his family were gone to the sea for a
little while, and were not expected till the shooting season began.
Dick rather longed to see Sir John's kind face again, and he felt so
grateful to him for his kindness that he thought he never could do
enough to show his gratitude.

The work that was given him in the gardens was easy enough. Clearing
the gravel walks of weeds, carrying in vegetables and fruit to the
house, or sometimes--and this he liked best--helping one of the
under gardeners to pot geraniums or other plants. One of his greatest
treats was to be allowed to go through the hothouses and greenhouses
with Mr Naylor, who began to grow fond of the intelligent lad, and to
think that after all Sir John knew what he was about when he sent him
down to learn gardening. "He's an uncommon little chap," he said to
his wife one day--"nothing seems to escape his observation; and if I
tell him the name of a plant or flower he remembers it. Most boys
would forget it as soon as told. Such a memory as he's got will do
him good service some day."

"He's a nice, good little fellow," remarked Mrs Naylor, "and so
obliging. He's always ready to run errands for me of an evening, or
to play with the little boys. I thought I shouldn't like having him
when Sir John first wrote about his coming, but I declare I'd sooner
have him here than not. And as for Ned and Tommy, they follow him
like their shadow whenever he's in the house."

Ned and Tommy were Mrs Naylor's own two children. They were merry
little fellows, several years younger than Dick. To them he was a
great acquisition. When the day's work was over, they were sure to be
watching for him at the lodge gate, to claim his services in mending
their paper kites, and to help to fly them when mended, as well as
many other similar offices, such as good-natured older boys can
execute for little ones. No wonder that Mrs Naylor's motherly
feelings made her think she would sooner have Dick as an inmate than
not.

When the days were beginning to shorten, and the first delicate tinge
of autumn brown was stealing gently over the green foliage, it was
announced that Sir John and the family were coming home. They had
been detained at the sea longer than was at first intended, owing to
the illness of one of the young ladies. But now the day was fixed,
and preparations were being made for them both within and without the
house. Even Dick had to be busy. Not a weed must be seen on the
walks, not a dead leaf on the geranium beds. Pot plants were to be
placed in rows on either side of the broad terrace in front of the
house, and others had to be carried into the drawing-room to fill the
jardinière and baskets. Also the conservatory adjoining the
morning-room was to be adorned with choice flowers from the
greenhouses. Dick carried and fetched, carried and fetched, till his
arms ached; but they might almost have dropped off before he would
have given in, so pleased was he to have such a chance for seeing the
tasteful and artistic way in which Mr Naylor arranged the different
plants according to their colouring. When all was complete, Mr Naylor
stepped to a little distance to see that the effect was quite to his
mind, and he caught sight of Dick standing in such enrapt admiration
that he fixed his gaze on him for a moment rather than on the
flowers.

"Well, Dick," said he, "what do you think of it?"

"Oh, sir, it is beautiful! I could look at it for ever."

"The boy is born to be a gardener," said Mr Naylor to himself. "He
ought to begin and learn Latin. I shall tell Sir John so."

All honour was due to worthy, honest-hearted Mr Naylor, that not a
shade of jealousy crossed his mind about Dick, although he hoped to
bring up his two boys to his own profession. Full of taste and
intelligence himself, he quickly saw that the boy was naturally
gifted with these qualities in no common degree, and felt they ought
to be thoroughly cultivated.

The next day the family arrived. Dick was standing at the lodge, well
pleased to be allowed to throw open the gates for the carriage to
enter, and to receive a smile and nod from Sir John as he sat inside
it with his wife and daughters.

The report that Mr Naylor was able to give of his charge was very
satisfactory to the benevolent baronet, and he quite agreed with him
that it would be well to let the boy have some education. There was
an excellent village school in Denham, and a superior schoolmaster.
So it was arranged for Dick to attend school every morning, and be in
the garden in the afternoon. The schoolmaster also agreed to teach
him Latin three evenings in the week.

"Sir John never does things by halves," remarked Mrs Naylor to her
husband. "He'll be the making of that boy, you'll see."

"He'll help him to be the making of himself," replied Naylor. "Dick
is a boy, if I mistake not, who will make good use of whatever
advantages are held out to him."

Time went on. Dick learnt quickly, and pleased his master. He was a
favourite with most people from his good humour and readiness to
oblige. Sir John took great interest in his improvement; and his wife
and daughter often stopped and spoke to the boy who had come to
Denham Court under such peculiar circumstances.

But go where we will, happen to us what will in this world, trouble
of some sort is sure to crop up, and Dick was not without his, even
in his happy life at Denham Court. It seems strange that he could
have an enemy, but so it was. There was a boy named George Bentham,
who was employed in the gardens, and who from the first had looked
upon the London lad with jealousy and dislike. He saw that he was a
favourite with Sir John and with Mr Naylor, and being of a mean and
selfish disposition, he took an aversion to him for this reason. To
use his own expression, he liked to _spite_ him. That is to say, he
never lost an occasion of saying or doing anything that he thought
would be disagreeable to him; and it is wonderful how much petty
tyranny may be exercised by one boy over another when opportunities
are sought. For instance, he would sometimes hide his garden tools to
cause him to waste time in searching for them, and so bring on him Mr
Naylor's displeasure. One day in autumn, when Dick had been
industriously sweeping up the fallen leaves in one of the walks, and
had gone to fetch a wheelbarrow to carry them away, he found that
some one had, during his short absence, scattered the heaps which he
had so carefully piled up at regular distances, so that his work had
almost all to be done over again. He had been told to finish it by
eleven o'clock, at which hour Lady Tralaway generally came to walk
there, as being a sunny, sheltered spot. He did his very best to try
and set it all right in time, but the leaves at the end of the walk
were in a sadly untidy state when her ladyship appeared with one of
her daughters. She remarked on the unswept state of the path, and
asked Dick to have it cleared earlier another day; and she repeated
her request to Mr Naylor a little later, when she met him in the
greenhouse. This caused Mr Naylor to reprove Dick for idleness, and
he seemed inclined to think that what he said about the leaves having
been scattered was all an excuse, especially as Dick could not say
who had done it, though in his secret heart he felt quite sure he
knew.

Another ill-natured trick that was played on Dick by an unseen,
though to him not an unknown hand, was when he one day left his slate
for a few minutes on a seat just inside the lodge gate, on which was
a difficult sum over which he had spent a long time the evening
before, and had at last mastered, though with great difficulty. He
had just started to go to school, slate and books in hand, when he
remembered he had forgotten one of them, and ran back into the lodge
to fetch it. He could not immediately find it, though he was not away
from his slate for more than five or six minutes, and it stood
precisely where he had left it when he returned. He snatched it up
and ran off, but it was not till he had got near the school-house
that he discovered the lower figures of the sum were all rubbed out
carefully as with a sponge. He was sorely distressed, but could only
tell the master of what had happened, and begged to be allowed to do
it over again that evening. The master, accustomed to boys often
making excuses at the expense of truth, reproved him for leaving his
slate so carelessly about, and said he could not understand who would
care to take the trouble to do such a thing as efface the figures
just to get him into a scrape. Dick saw he was not believed, and it
distressed him a good deal. Yet he could not tell his suspicions
about George, for he had no proof that he had done it. He only knew
that about that time he generally passed through the gate on his way
back from breakfast, and he also knew that he would be quite ready to
do him such a bit of mischief as this.

Old Walters did not forget his little friend, nor did Dick lose his
warm, affectionate love for him. They exchanged letters from time to
time, and the correspondence was very useful in keeping up in Dick's
mind the remembrance of all Walters had taught him. Sir John kindly
sent for the old man when he was in town to give a favourable report
of the boy, and tell him that Mr Naylor was well satisfied with him,
and believed he would one day make a first-rate gardener, for that
his good taste was something quite unusual, and his general
intelligence of no ordinary stamp.

"I should like him to be a great gardener some day," said Walters;
"and still more, I should like him to be a good man, with the fear of
God ever before him."

"I trust he will be both, my friend," said Sir John. "How are his
parents going on?"

"Worse than ever," said Walters. "The mother is in such a wretched
state of health from drinking that she is not likely to be long
alive, and the father is seldom sober. I went lately to tell them I
had heard from their boy, but they seemed very indifferent to what he
was doing, and scarcely asked any questions about him. They will
probably soon both be in the Union."

"Then it is clear it is no use bringing up their son to London to see
them," said Sir John, "as I would have done had they been
respectable. He is better to be quite separated from them under the
circumstances."

"Far better, Sir John. Roan's Court is no place for him now. The
sooner he forgets the very existence of what goes on there the
better. I should like to see my lad again some day, please God, but
it's not likely, for I'm getting nigh to seventy, and though I'm hale
and hearty as ever now, yet at my age I mustn't expect many more
years. God bless you, Sir John, for being such a friend to him; he's
got strangely about my heart, and I shall pray for him whilst I
live."




CHAPTER V.

THE VISITOR AT THE LODGE.


THAT spring, like other springs, passed away. The London season was
longer than usual, for Parliament had weighty and important matters
to discuss, and families longing to be in the country were obliged to
remain in hot, dusty London till August. Amongst the number of these
was that of Sir John Tralaway, who was an active member of the House
of Commons. But at length the House broke up, and without loss of
time the great world fled from the heated atmosphere to go and enjoy
either the mountain breezes of Switzerland or the refreshing shades
of English country houses.

Sir John's domestics went off as usual a day or two before the rest
of the family, to make all ready for their arrival. No one was better
pleased than Dick that the season was over. He liked to see the
ladies walking or riding about the grounds, and to have their kind
smile and almost daily greeting. Also he loved to have the
encouraging word which was sure to be given by Sir John when he had
questioned Naylor and the schoolmaster about him, and heard a good
report.

On the day when the servants were to arrive, Mrs Naylor told Dick
that she had a friend coming to visit them, and she should be glad if
he would give up his room for the time. She proposed making him up a
bed in her boys' room, at which arrangement the two youngsters
expressed their warm approbation, for Dick was as great a favourite
with them as ever. When evening came he took care to be in the way to
open the gate, and so be the first to give a welcome.

The carriage came and turned in, but instead of driving on, it
stopped at the lodge. The door behind was opened, and the footman
assisted out an old gentleman, who wore a great-coat, notwithstanding
its being a warm evening, and a well-brushed beaver hat. Mrs Naylor
hastened out to receive him, but before she could speak Dick had
flown into Walters' arms.

It had been kind Sir John's contrivance to give him a surprise. He
had asked the Naylors to receive him as their guest, and when he
found their willingness to do so, he proposed to him to go down into
the country with his servants, and spend several weeks under the same
roof as Dick.


[Illustration: THE MEETING OF MR WALTERS AND DICK.]


He knew the pleasure it would give to both to be together again. He
had desired that Dick should not be told who was Mrs Naylor's
expected guest.

Dick was more altered than Walters. He had grown taller and stouter,
and his cheeks were rounder and more rosy than they had been when he
lived in Roan's Court.

"Now come in, Mr Walters," said Mrs Naylor, when the first surprise
and greeting was over. "Come in, we'll do our best to make you
comfortable, and I'm sure I hope you'll spend a pleasant time here.
It shan't be our fault if you don't. As for Dick, I expect he won't
sleep a wink to-night for joy."

It was a pleasant reception, and when the old man went to bed in
Dick's little chamber, he kneeled and thanked God for this new and
unexpected mercy that had been vouchsafed him. As for Dick, far from
fulfilling Mrs Naylor's prognostication that he would not sleep a
wink, he was in so profound a slumber, at the hour when the other two
lads awoke in the morning, that they had a delightful excuse for
jumping on his bed and playing off a variety of tricks in order, as
they said, to "arouse him thoroughly."

Very pleased and proud was Dick to take his old friend over the
gardens and numerous glass-houses, containing such fruits and flowers
as he had never seen even in former days, when he had visited with
his master at gentlemen's houses. Dick had an entire holiday given
him the day after Walters' arrival, both from school and from
gardening, and Mr Naylor told him to take his friend where he liked.
Such a permission made him feel of almost as much importance as if he
were master of the estate himself. He found it difficult to limit his
own pace to that of Walters', so eager was he to go from one place to
another, always assuring him the next thing he had to show was far
better than any he had yet seen. Walters' admiration quite satisfied
him, for it was unbounded.




CHAPTER VI.

SIR JOHN'S PROPOSAL.


A MONTH passed, and still old Walters was a visitor at the lodge.
Still he might be seen sitting on fine days under a wide-spreading
oak-tree in the park, sometimes leaning forward with his chin resting
on his stick, at others reading his large Bible as it lay upon his
knees. Not unfrequently Sir John might be observed sitting by his
side, for he delighted in his remarks, so full of simple piety and
humility, and consequently of instruction to himself. The high-born
baronet was not above being edified by the conversation of the aged
pilgrim, whose mind seemed ripening fast for the world which could
not be far distant from him. But Walters began to speak in earnest of
returning to London. His feelings were sensitive and delicate, and
though urged to remain longer, he would not take advantage of the
kindness that proposed it. He said he had been permitted to spend a
month of happiness amidst God's beautiful country works with his dear
boy Dick, but now the time was come for him to return to his room and
his old ways in London.

"And perhaps you feel more at home there than in any other place,"
said Sir John one morning, when he had been talking to him on his
favourite bench under the oak-tree. "You have lived there so many
years that this country life may seem irksome to you after the long
habit of the other."

"Nay," replied he, "London will seem very lonely after such a month
as I have spent here in my boy's company, with everybody showing me
such kindness. And I shall miss the trees and the flowers, and the
songs of the birds. No, Sir John, I could find it in my heart to wish
I could end my days in the country, but God has willed it otherwise,
and given me a home I do not deserve, although it is amongst the
crowd and bustle and noise. Besides, why did I say I should be
lonely? Shall I not have _Him_"--and he uncovered his head, as was
his wont, at the great name--"who died for me, and loves me, and will
never leave me nor forsake me?"

Sir John was silent for a few moments; then he spoke to him on a
subject he had been turning over in his mind for some days. "You are
right, my worthy friend," he said; "no place can be lonely to you,
and God will assuredly watch over you to the end. But suppose He were
to point out that His way of doing so, as far as this world is
concerned, would be to give you a home in the country, where you
would be cared for in health and in sickness, and where the remainder
of your years would pass in quietness and repose, would you not be
willing to follow His leading?"

"Assuredly, assuredly," replied Walters, not in the least seeing the
drift of his remark. "But as such has not been His will, I thank Him
gratefully for my little room in town."

"Now listen to me, my friend," said the baronet. "It seems to me that
just as it was put into my heart to take Dick from the scenes of sin
and temptation he was exposed to in Roan's Court, so now it is given
me to have the privilege of making your last years far more
comfortable than they would be in your lodging in town. The proposal
I wish to make to you is this: I have a cottage in the village which
I have given for her life to an attached faithful old servant, who
lives there with her niece. It is larger than she requires, and she
says she could quite well spare the little parlour and the bedroom
over it, and that she would be very glad to have you as a lodger, and
she and her niece would do their best to make you comfortable. I will
take all the arrangements for you on myself, so you will only have to
return to London to pack up your things and bid your present landlady
good-bye, and then come back again to your new country home, where
you may see Dick every day."

Walters was silent. He could not speak. He took in all Sir John's
plan for him, and the lonely old man's heart leaped at the thought of
living near the child of his love. At length he rose, and with a
voice quivering with emotion, said--

"I thank you, I do indeed thank you, Sir John. It seems too much, too
much happiness for such an one as I am. But my whole life has been
filled with mercies, and this may be going to be the crowning one.
May I think over it? I am too old to be able all at once to decide.
When I have been alone awhile I can better answer you."

"Take as long as you like to think it over," replied Sir John--"there
is no hurry whatever." Then kindly shaking hands with him, he went
away, for he saw that Walters was a good deal overcome. Yet he knew
that though he left him, he would not be alone, but that he would
seek the counsel and direction of Him whom he had for so long made
his dearest Friend.




CHAPTER VII.

RETURNING GOOD FOR EVIL.


WALTERS soon made up his mind, and with much thankfulness accepted
Sir John's offer of a home in Denham. That gentleman took him to see
the cottage in which he proposed he should occupy two rooms, and
introduced him to good Mrs Benson, who, with her niece, promised to
do all they could for his comfort. He could only exclaim every now
and then, "Too good, too good for me! Who would have thought of such
a home as this coming to me in my old age?"

He went back to London, packed up his few goods and chattels, and bid
good-bye to his friends in Covent Garden. He was well known there,
and all were sorry to part with him, but glad to hear of his good
fortune. His landlady regretted losing her quiet lodger, whose
regular payments and steady habits she knew how to value. It was with
quite a heavy heart she saw him into the cab that was to take him to
the station. She did the last good office she could for him by
putting into his hand a paper parcel containing some sandwiches, that
he might not be hungry on the journey.

Dick's delight when he found his dear old friend was going to move to
Denham may be easily imagined. He only regretted that he had to go
back to London at all.

Mrs Benson was quite ready for him when he arrived one evening in the
middle of October. Dick went to meet him at the station in the
conveyance sent by Sir John to take him to the cottage, and was glad
to be the one to lead him into the comfortable little sitting-room,
where a bright fire was burning and tea laid out on the round table.
Mrs Benson followed, looking and saying kind things, and her niece
bustled about to make the tea and toast the bread. It rather
distressed him to be waited on thus; he had always been accustomed to
do these things for himself; but he comforted his mind by saying that
they must not think he should give them such trouble in future.

In a very short time he was quite settled, and seeing that he would
really prefer it, Mrs Benson allowed him to wait a good deal on
himself, and to do in every respect as he had been accustomed. The
neighbours soon learned to like the gentle, kind old man who was ever
ready to perform any little service for them in his power, such as
going on an errand, sitting with a sick child, or reading to an
invalid of riper years.

George Bentham's character did not improve as he got older. He was so
unsatisfactory in many ways that Mr Naylor would have dismissed him
altogether, had it not been for Sir John's kind desire to keep him
on, for he knew the wages he gave were higher than he would obtain
elsewhere. Neither he nor Naylor were aware of the dislike he had
from the first taken to Dick, who never named the annoyances he had
to bear from him to any one except Walters.

"I have never done anything to him," he said one day; "yet he is
always trying to spite me in every way he can. I really will begin
and give it him back again. I know twenty ways in which I can do him
a bad turn."

"Stop, stop, my boy," said Walters, "I don't like to hear you speak
so. That would be spite for spite. The dear Master did not act so
when they tried all they could to vex Him. Yet _He_ never did wrong
in any way. You, on the contrary, are constantly standing in need of
forgiveness from God. So you must learn to forgive even as you would
be forgiven."

"I will try," said Dick, feeling rather ashamed of his speech.

"Do, my lad; but you won't be able to do it in your own strength, for
it goes contrary to human nature. You must pray--nothing like
prayer--and so you will find. And then, Dick, there's another thing
to remember. Look here"--and Walters turned over the leaves of the
Bible that was never far from his hand--"see this verse which the
Master spoke for the good of boys as much as for older people, 'Do
_good_ to them that hate you.' You see you must not be content with
only forgiving."

"But what can I do for George?" asked Dick. "I never go near him if I
can help--there isn't any good I can do him in any way."

"Yes, lad, you can say a prayer for him now and then; and if ever you
see he needs a bit of help at any time, be you the one to offer it,
and you'll get a blessing, take my word for it."

They were sitting by the fireside in Walters' little parlour. Dick
had been to take his Latin lesson. As Mrs Benson's cottage lay on his
way home, he had turned in to see Walters. He was about to bid
good-bye to him after these last words, but the old man stopped him
and said--

"Wait a bit, and I'll tell you something that will show you how bad a
thing is spite or revenge. Maybe it will prevent you ever feeling the
desire to vex a person back because they vex you. It's a sad story,
but you shall hear it, though the very telling of it gives me a pain
all these long years after.

"When I was a young man I was very fond of horses, and liked to be
about them. My father wanted me to become a schoolmaster in a
village, because I'd had a better education than most boys of my
sort; but nothing would serve me but to go about the stables. So my
father spoke to our squire about it, and he said I should go under
his coachman, and so I did; and I got to understand horses, and could
ride and drive them--according to my own thinking--as well as the
coachman himself, when suddenly my master died and the establishment
was all broken up. I returned home to wait till I could find another
situation. Just at this time a young man about my own age, named
James Bennett, came home out of place likewise. He had been, like
myself, in a gentleman's stables, and had only left his place because
the family had gone abroad. He and I had lived near each other as
boys, and had had many a game together, but we had not met for three
or four years, as he had been away in quite another part of England.
We used to see one another pretty often, as we had neither of us much
to do then but to idle about.

"It so happened that just at this time a Mr Anderson, living about
two miles off, wanted a groom quite unexpectedly, and a friend of
mine called and advised me to lose no time in applying for the
situation, as a new servant must be had instantly. James Bennett
happened to be in our cottage when I was told this, but he left it
almost instantly. I lost no time, but went upstairs and put on my
best clothes; and then I set out, to walk to Newton Hall, where Mr
Anderson lived. I was anxious for the place, for I knew it was a good
one; and as it had only become vacant a few hours, I felt I had a
real good chance of getting it. When I arrived there I was shown in
to Mr Anderson, who said I was a likely enough fellow, but that he
had just seen another young man whom he had promised to take if his
character satisfied him. 'You know him probably,' he said, 'for he
comes from your village; his name is James Bennett.'

"I started with surprise and indignation. In an instant I saw just
how it was. James had heard what my friend had said about Mr
Anderson's situation being vacant, and advising me to lose no time in
applying. He had quietly sneaked of and got before me; for, as I
afterwards found, he had had a lift in a gig, whilst I walked all the
way, so he had considerably the start of me.

"I left the house full of angry feelings, and despising James from
the bottom of my heart for his meanness; and I took care to tell him
so. He could not defend himself, though he tried to make out it was
all fair play, and a case of first go, first served.

"He got the place and went to it directly, on good wages. I, on the
other hand, could not hear of one anywhere. I used to see James ride
by, exercising his new master's horse, and my thoughts were very
bitter.

"Mr Anderson had a daughter who was very delicate, and was ordered
horse exercise. Her father had bought her a beautiful creature which
had Arab blood in its veins--that means that it was high bred and
full of spirit. Now Miss Anderson had not yet been allowed to mount
him because he had such a bad trick of shying when he came to any
water. There was a certain pool which lay by the roadside between our
village and Mr Anderson's house, which he would never pass without a
great fuss. The former groom and Mr Anderson had tried in vain to
cure him of the trick. James said he thought he should be able to do
it, and he was proud to try.

"So he took him in hand. Every day he practised the animal. He tamed
him at last so that he scarcely moved an ear when he saw the pond. I
heard that after one day's more practice he meant to pronounce him
quite cured. Now all this time I was feeling angry, and longing to
spite him for the trick he had played me. I grudged him the fame of
having cured the horse of shying, for I knew I could have done it as
well, and I was always thinking about the way he had stolen the place
from me.

"Well, Dick, Satan saw now that was a fine time for him, and he made
the most of it. He put into my heart to do a mean trick by which I
thought to pay James back something of what I owed him.

"I bought some crackers and put them in my pocket, and I walked to
the place where the pond lay, a little before the time when I knew
James would come with the horse. My idea was to conceal myself behind
the thick hedge, and pull a cracker just at the moment the horse was
passing the pond. I thought so to startle him that it would make him
worse than ever about shying in future, and then all James's trouble
would be thrown away, and he would not have the credit of curing him
of the bad habit.

"I crept behind the hedge and was completely hidden. After a time I
heard horse's hoofs, and saw James come up. He walked by the pond,
slowly at first, then he went quicker, and next he trotted. The
pretty creature was quite quiet. Then he went to a little distance,
and put him into a canter. Now was my time; I pulled my cracker just
as he got to the pond. The horse sprang up into the air, bolted
forward, and the next instant was running away fast and fleet as the
very wind. I heard the hoofs going at a mad pace, and I knew his
rider had lost all control over him. Not for one moment had I
intended to drive the horse wild like that. The most I had thought of
was to cause him to prance and kick, and begin his old trick of not
passing the pond. I felt no anxiety lest any real harm would come of
it. I knew James was a good rider, and supposed he would give the
horse his head for awhile and then pull him in. So I walked home,
thinking I had paid Master James off in some degree at all events.

"We were just finishing dinner when a neighbour looked in, and asked
if we had heard what had happened. He said that James Bennett had
been riding Mr Anderson's horse, and that it had run away with him
and thrown him violently against a milestone; that he was taken up
quite senseless, and it was feared there was concussion of the brain!
He had been carried to a farmhouse close by, which there was little
chance of his leaving alive. It was dreadful hearing for me. I felt
as if I should have committed murder, if he died! Not that I had
wished really to harm him bodily in any way. I could comfort myself a
little with that thought, but I had intended to do him a mischief of
another kind; and now the ugliness of the sin of revenge rose up
before me in its true colours, and I hated myself.

"I kept my own secret. I argued that it could make matters neither
better nor worse to tell what had made the horse run off. But I was
very wretched. I walked to the farm towards evening to inquire after
him. They said he was still insensible, and the doctor could give
little hope. His parents were there, and Mr Anderson drove up as I
was going away, having brought a second doctor with him. It was a
comfort to know that he would be well cared for. The next day he had
come to himself when I went to inquire, but there was no more hope
than before. He lay in a very precarious state for a week, and then
there was a change for the better. A few days more and the doctor
said he would live, but that it would be many months probably before
he would be well enough to go into service again. Mr Anderson was
very kind, and promised to continue his wages to enable him to live
at home till he was quite well. But he could not keep his place open
for him, so he offered it to me.

"I positively declined to accept it, much to Mr Anderson's surprise.
I felt that I could not endure to reap any benefit from my
wrong-doing. My conscience had been tormenting me ever since the
accident, and I made up my mind that I would never take a situation
as groom again, for the very sight of a horse made me uncomfortable.
In a short time, thanks to my late mistress's recommendation, I
obtained a place as personal servant to a gentleman who was going on
the Continent for a couple of years. Now it seems natural that new
countries and new ways should put what had just passed out of my
head; but they didn't, though I certainly did enjoy travelling about
very much. We went to France and Germany, stopping for a time at all
the principal cities, and then we went to Italy and spent some time
in Rome. But notwithstanding the novelty of all around me I was not
altogether happy. I believe I was beginning to feel what a sinful
heart I had then, and I often longed to open my mind to some one, but
there was nobody I knew to whom I liked to speak. However, God had
His own designs for me, as you will hear.

"My master visited Venice on our return home, and from there he took
an excursion through some mountains called 'The Dolomites.' One day,
as we were crossing a narrow plank thrown across a steep gorge, my
foot slipped and I fell down a very considerable distance on to a
hard rock, and it is wonderful that I was not killed on the spot. I
was taken up senseless by some peasants who were fortunately near,
and carried into a hut, where my master joined me, and he and they
did all in their power to restore consciousness. I recovered my
senses after awhile, but I had to lie in that hut for upwards of ten
days, and during that time I looked back on my past life and saw how
sinful I had been, and I trembled when I thought how death and I had
been face to face when I fell into the gorge. My revengeful conduct
towards James Bennett stared me in the face in such black colours as
it had never done before. 'What would have become of me had I been
killed?' was my constant thought.

"When I returned to England I went to live with a clergyman, who was
a good and holy man, to whom, after awhile, I ventured to open my
mind. He taught me what my Saviour had done for me by His death, and
how I might look for pardon through His merits, and grace and help
for the future. I have told you all this, Dick, that you may beware
of ever wishing to give what is called 'tit for tat.' Now go home,
and whenever you say your prayers ask God to keep you from all malice
and bitterness."

This advice of Walters came at a very opportune time, for not long
after Dick had occasion to bring it to mind.

It was George Bentham's duty to shut up the greenhouse windows at a
certain hour in the afternoon, and Mr Naylor was extremely particular
on this point. He had neglected it once or twice, and had been
severely reprimanded but when a third time Mr Naylor found the
windows open late, he took the duty away from him entirely, and gave
it to Dick in his presence, remarking that he felt sure he might
trust him. George said nothing at the time, but his jealousy
increased. He went away revolving in his mind how he could lower Dick
in Mr Naylor's opinion, and a way soon suggested itself.

Dick was surprised one evening after he had carefully closed the
windows in the afternoon at the proper time, by Mr Naylor reproving
him sharply when he came in to tea for having left one of them open.

"Indeed, sir, I shut them all," said Dick.

"You mean you _meant_ to do so, but were careless and forgot the end
one," said Mr Naylor. "Now don't get into the way of making excuses;
better own your fault at once, and say you will be more careful in
future; then I shall have hope that it will not happen again."

Dick said no more. He was puzzled, for he felt almost sure he _had_
shut that end window. Yet how could it have got open again? No one
ever went near the greenhouses in the afternoon after they were shut.
He always turned the key on the outside when he went out, though he
left it in the door by order, because Mr Naylor went his rounds
towards evening, and then took the keys home with him. At length he
was obliged to come to the conclusion that he must have overlooked
that window without being aware of it.

About a week afterwards a frost set in, and though it was sunny and
fine for some hours, the air grew cold directly the sun began to
decline, and Dick received orders to close the windows earlier than
customary, and he did so.

The head gardener went the rounds as usual that afternoon before
going home to tea. The cold was severe, and his vigilance for his
plants was consequently greater than ever.

As he came to the door of the greenhouse he thought he heard a slight
noise within, and looked carefully about on opening the door, but
could see nothing to have caused it, so thought it must have been
fancy. When he examined the windows he found one of them wide open.

"Again!" he said to himself. "So that boy is as bad as the other, and
must be trusted no more." He shut it, and a second time fancied he
heard a noise, and listened, but all was still. When he went home he
spoke more angrily to Dick than he had ever done before, and desired
him not to enter the greenhouses again, since he found he could not
be trusted. "Had I not gone in there," he said, "and seen that the
window was left wide open, some of the choicest of the plants must
have been frostbitten."

"But indeed, indeed, I shut them every one, sir," exclaimed Dick.
"Some one must have gone in after me, and opened that window. Oh! it
was too bad; it must have been done from spite."

"I can scarcely believe that," said the gardener. "Excuses of that
sort won't help you."

"It is not an excuse, sir. _Do_ believe me, for indeed I shut all the
windows carefully."

"Maybe the lad is right," said Mrs Naylor, who was fond of Dick, and
had always found him truthful. "Perhaps some one has a grudge against
him, and took that way of doing him a mischief."

"Have you any reason to suppose you have an enemy?" inquired Mr
Naylor.

"Yes, I have, sir," replied Dick.

"Who is it?"

Dick did not reply; he was not sure whether he ought to name him.

But Johnnie Naylor, who with his brother was present, exclaimed--

"George Bentham is his enemy, I think, for he said the other day he
hated Dick, because he was put over him about the windows just
because he was a favourite."

A new idea appeared to strike Mr Naylor. He seemed in deep thought
for a moment. He was thinking of the noise he fancied he had heard.
Then taking down a lantern and lighting the lamp within, he strode
off without a word, and took his way to the greenhouse.

Unlocking the door, he entered, and closed it after him. Again there
was a slight noise. This time he was sure that something alive was
there besides himself, and he began to search.


[Illustration: "HE RAISED HIS LANTERN AND LOOKED BEHIND A TIER OF
SHELVES."]


The house was a good-sized one, and he examined every corner, but in
vain. Then he raised his lantern and looked behind a tier of shelves
which stood out a little way from the wall.

A dark figure was there crouching down. It was George Bentham, who,
with a face white as ashes, came forth at Mr Naylor's command.

"What are you doing here, sir?" he asked, in a voice of thunder.

"I got locked in, sir."

"And what brought you here at all?"

The ready lie that he would fain have had rise to his lips, failed
him from actual terror, and he was silent.

"I will tell you why you are here," said the gardener. "You came to
open that window in order to get an innocent companion into trouble,
and to have it supposed that he was careless and had neglected his
duty, and it is the second time you have done the base deed. You are
a coward of the worst kind, and you shall come with me instantly to
Sir John himself, and hear his opinion of your conduct."

Then George found his voice, and implored Mr Naylor to punish him in
any way rather than take him before Sir John, but in vain. He marched
him off without another word, and made him walk before him to the
house, where he requested to see the baronet.

Very shocked and indignant was Sir John at what he heard about the
wretched boy before him, who did not attempt to deny that he had
hoped to bring Dick into disgrace, and so had slipped into the
greenhouse to open the window, but had not time to escape before Mr
Naylor came and locked him in. He had no way of getting out without
breaking the windows, owing to their peculiar method of opening. He
acknowledged that Dick had never done him any harm, and could only
say in reply to the questions put to him, that "he had never liked
him."

Sir John dismissed him from his service on the spot, and told him his
opinion of his conduct in terms which remained in his memory for many
a day.

Dick was very glad when Mr Naylor told him the mystery about the open
window had been cleared up; but to his credit be it spoken, he was
really grieved to hear that George was to work no more in the
gardens. He longed to plead for him, but knew it would be useless, as
Sir John and Mr Naylor were so seriously displeased. But when a
little time had passed by, and George was still without regular
employment, hanging about the village, often reminded by jeers and
taunts of his mean conduct, Dick felt more and more sorry for him,
and at length he ventured to ask Mr Naylor if he would say a good
word for him to Sir John.

"And so _you_ want him to be taken on again, do you?" was the reply.
"That's queer, now."

But queer as he thought it, Naylor could appreciate Dick's forgiving
spirit, and admired it sufficiently to induce him to ask Sir John if
the boy might have another trial, and he obtained his consent. He
took care to tell George who it was had pleaded for his return. The
boy had avoided Dick since his disgrace, but this generous conduct
quite overcame him. Though foreign to his own nature to act thus, he
was touched and grateful, and actually thanked Dick, and told him he
was sorry he had behaved so shabbily to him. From that day the two
lads were good friends. George never again annoyed Dick.


We must pass over the next few years of Dick's history more rapidly.
He did not disappoint the expectations of those who had done so much
for him. He improved rapidly, and developed so strong a taste for
landscape gardening that Sir John and Mr Naylor advised him to lay
himself out chiefly for that branch of the profession, and every aid
was given him to do so. Sir John thought that his steady character,
united to considerable natural talent, well deserved encouragement.
The result was, that when he grew to manhood he introduced him to the
notice of several families of distinction, and he soon began to get a
name and to acquire a considerable income. Walters lived to see him
married and prosperous, and ever true to the principles he had
instilled into him as a child.

At a good old age dear old John Walters passed away to his rest. His
death was calm and happy as his life had been. His remains lie in the
little churchyard at Denham, a plain white stone marking the spot.
Many still remember and speak of him with affection. Amongst the
number is Sir John, now himself grown old. Sometimes he has been
heard to exclaim, as he pauses an instant before the grave--


    "Let my last end be like his!"




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  390 pages. Fully illustrated and well bound in cloth, with
  attractive coloured design on cover.
    _Also First and Second Series uniform in style and price._


2s. 6d. each.

The Young Moose Hunters: A Backwoods-Boy's Story.
  By C. A. Stephens. Profusely Illustrated. Crown 8vo. Cloth extra
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Olive Chauncey's Trust. By Mrs. E. R. Pitman, Author of
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The Lion City of Africa: A Story of Adventure, By Willis Boyd Allen,
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  Twenty-four Illustrations. Crown 8vo. Cloth extra.


2s. each.

A Way in the Wilderness. By Maggie Swan. Crown 8vo.
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Her Saddest Blessing. By Jennie Chappell, Author of "Wild Bryonie,"
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Avice: A Story of Imperial Rome, By Eliza F. Pollard. Crown 8vo.
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1s. 6d. each.

Nella; or, Not My Own. By Jessie Goldsmith Cooper.
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Martin Redfern's Oath. By Ethel F. Heddle. Crown 8vo.
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Tamsin Rosewarne and Her Burdens: A Tale of
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Nature's Mighty Wonders. By Rev. Dr. Newton. New Series.
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The Safe Compass, and How It Points. By Rev. Dr.
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C. H. Spurgeon: His Life and Ministry. By Jesse Page,
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Four Heroes of India: Clive, Warren Hastings,
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Madagascar: Its Missionaries and Martyrs. By
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Una Bruce's Troubles. By Alice Price, Author of "Hamilton
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Phil's Frolic. By F. Scarlett Potter, Author of "Faith's Father,"
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Our Den. By F. M. Waterworth, Author of "Master Lionel, that
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Grannie's Treasures, and How They Helped Her.
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Recitations and Concerted Pieces for Bands of
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Thoroughness: Talks to Young Men. By Thain Davidson, D.D., Author
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Little Rosebud's Picture Book: A Picture Story Book for
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Our Playtime. A Series of Full-page and Coloured Vignettes,
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Our Lifeboats: Pictures of Peril and Rescue. A Series of Full-page
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NEW VOLUMES.

Jean Jacques: A Story of the Franco-Prussian War. By Isabel
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Dawson's Madge; or, The Poacher's Daughter. By T. M. Browne,
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6d. each.

Noel's Lesson. By Meta.

One Christmas; or, How it came round. By Jennie Chappell


3d. each.

THE PRETTY "GIFT-BOOK" SERIES.
With Coloured Frontispiece and Illustrations on every page. Paper
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My Pretty Picture Book.
Birdie's Picture Book.
Baby's Delight.
Mamma's Pretty Stories.
Tiny Tot's Treasures.
Papa's Present.
Pretty Bible Stories.
Baby's Bible Picture Book.
Ethel's Keepsake.
Out of School.
Pictures for Laughing Eyes.
Cheerful and Happy.


LIST OF ILLUSTRATED BOOKS, ETC.,
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5s.

The Crystal Hunters: A Boy's Adventures in the
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Nolens Volens; or, The Adventures of Don Lavington.
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3s. 6d. each.

The Pilgrim's Progress. By John Bunyan. Illustrated with 55
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Cousin Mary. By Mrs. Oliphant, Author of "Chronicles
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The Eagle Cliff: A Tale of the Western Isles. By R. M. Ballantyne,
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For Honour's Sake. By Jennie Chappell, Author of
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Gathered Grain, consisting of Select Extracts from the
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Hymn Writers and their Hymns. By Rev. S. W.
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John Winter: A Story of Harvests. By Edward Garrett, Author of
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The Lady of the Forest. By L. T. Meade, Author of
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Living it Down. By Laura M. Lane, Author of "My Lady
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Mad John Burleigh: A Story of Heroic Self-Sacrifice.
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More Precious than Gold. By Jennie Chappell, Author
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Robert Aske: A Story of the Reformation. By E. F. Pollard.
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Six Stories by Pansy. Imperial 8vo. 390 pages. Fully Illustrated
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The Story of the Bible. Arranged in Simple Style for
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Vashti Savage. By Sarah Tytler. Illustrated by Robert
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Wild Bryonie; or, Bonds of Steel and Bands of Love.
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2s. 6d. each.

Story of Jesus. For Little Children. By Mrs. G. E. Morton, Author of
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Bible Pictures and Stories. Old and New Testament.
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Mick Tracy, the Irish Scripture Reader. With Engravings.
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A Ride to Picture-Land: A Book of Joys for Girls and Boys. By R. V.,
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_THE RED MOUNTAIN SERIES. Crown_ 8_vo. Illustrated._
_Handsomely bound in cloth boards._ 2_s._ 6_d. each._

Red Mountain of Alaska. By Willis Boyd Allen, Author
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The Young Moose Hunters: A Backwoods-Boy's Story.
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  Mountain of Alaska.")

Olive Chauncey's Trust. By Mrs. E. R. Pitman, Author of "Vestina's
  Martyrdom," "Lady Missionaries in Foreign Lands," etc.

The Lion City of Africa: A Story of Adventures. By Willis Boyd
  Allen, Author of "The Red Mountain of Alaska," "Pine Cones,"
  etc., etc. Twenty-four Illustrations.

By Sea-shore, Wood, and Moorland: Peeps at Nature. By Edward Step,
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Grace Ashleigh; or, His Ways are Best. By Mary D. R. Boyd.
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Hamilton of King's. By Alice Price, Author of "Hilary St. John,"
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Eaglehurst Towers. By Emma Marshall, Author of "Fine Gold," etc.

Edwin, the Boy Outlaw; or, The Dawn of Freedom in England. A Story
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"Not Wanted"; or, The Wreck of the "Providence." By Eliza F.
  Pollard, Author of "Robert Aske," etc.

Leaders into Unknown Lands: Being Chapters of Recent Travel. By
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2s. each.
THE HOME LIBRARY.

Crown 8vo. 320 pages. Handsome Cloth Cover. Illustrations. BY PANSY:

Three People.
Four Girls at Chautauqua.
An Endless Chain.
The Chautauqua Girls at Home.
Wise and Otherwise.
The King's Daughter.
Ruth Erskine's Crosses.
Ester Ried.
Ester Ried Yet Speaking.
Julia Ried.
The Man of the House.

By Annie S. Swan:
Mark Desborough's Vow.
The Better Part.
The Strait Gate.

A Way in the Wilderness. By Maggie Swan.

By Jane M. Kippen:
Edith Oswald; or, Living for Others. (224 pages.)
Florence Stanley; or, Forgiving, because much Forgiven.

A Bunch of Cherries. By J. W. Kirton.

The Household Angel. By Madeline Leslie.

Morning Dew-Drops. By Clara Lucas Balfour. New and Revised Edition.
  Profusely Illustrated. Crown 8vo. Cloth extra.

Avice: A Story of Imperial Rome. By Eliza F. Pollard.

By Jennie Chappell:
Without a Thought; or, Dora's Discipline.
Her Saddest Blessing.


Anecdotes in Natural History. By Rev. F. O. Morris,
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Animals and their Young. By Harland Coultas. With Twenty-four
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Natural History Stories. By Mary Howitt. With Thirty-two full-page
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Birds and their Nests. By Mary Howitt. With Twenty-three full-page
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Dogs and their Doings. By Rev. F. O. Morris, Author of "A History of
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Our Dumb Companions. By Rev. T. Jackson, M. A. One Hundred and
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Bible Picture Roll. Containing a large Engraving of a Scripture
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Natural History Picture Roll. Consisting of 31 Illustrated Leaves,
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Sunny Teachings: A Coloured Bible Picture Roll. Size 12 1/2 by
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  Bible Subjects, printed on good paper. Mounted on roller, with
  cord for hanging, and with glazed coloured cover, 2s.
  _A Treasure for the Schoolroom or Nursery_.


1s. 6d. each.
_NEW POPULAR BIOGRAPHIES. Crown_ 8_vo._ 160 _pages. Maps and_
_Illustrations. Cloth extra_,

Four Heroes of India: Clive, Warren Hastings, Havelock, Lawrence.
  By F. M. Holmes, Author of "Andrew Garth's Apprentices,"
  "Perseverence and Success," etc.

C. H. Spurgeon: His Life and Ministry. By Jesse Page, Author of
  "Samuel Crowther, the Slave Boy who became Bishop of the Niger,"
  etc., etc.

Michael Faraday, Man of Science. By Walter Jerrold.

Florence Nightingale, the Wounded Soldier's Friend.
  By Eliza F. Pollard.

The Slave and His Champions: Sketches of Granville Sharp, Thomas
  Clarkson, William Wilberforce, and Sir T. F. Buxton.
  By C. D. Michael.

Two Noble Lives:--JOHN WICLIFFE, the Morning Star of the
  Reformation; and MARTIN LUTHER, the Reformer.
  By David J. Deane. (208 pages.)

"One and All." An Autobiography of Richard Tangye, of the Cornwall
  Works, Birmingham. With Twenty-one Original Illustrations by
  Frank Hewett. (192 pages.)

David Livingstone: His Labours and His Legacy. By Arthur Montefiore,
  F.G.S., F.R.G.S., Author of "H. M. Stanley, the African Explorer."

Henry M. Stanley, the African Explorer. By Arthur Montefiore,
  F.G.S., F.R.G.S. Ninth Edition, Enlarged.


_NEW SERIES OF MISSIONARY BIOGRAPHIES. Crown_ 8_vo._ 160 _pages._
_Cloth extra. Fully Illustrated._

Madagascar: Its Missionaries and Martyrs. By William J. Townsend,
  Author of "Robert Morrison, the Pioneer of Chinese Missions,"
  etc., etc.

David Brainerd, the Apostle to the North American Indians.
  By Jesse Page.

James Calvert; or, From Dark to Dawn in Fiji. By R. Vernon.
  Fully Illustrated.

Henry Martyn: His Life and Labours--Cambridge, India, Persia.
  By Jesse Page, Author of "Samuel Crowther," etc., etc.

John Williams, the Martyr Missionary of Polynesia,
  By Rev. James J. Ellis.

Lady Missionaries in Foreign Lands. By Mrs. E. R. Pitman, Author
  of "Vestina's Martyrdom," etc., etc.

Samuel Crowther, the Slave Boy who became Bishop of the Niger. By
  Jesse Page, Author of "Bishop Patteson, the Martyr of Melanesia."

Thomas J. Comber, Missionary Pioneer to the Congo. By Rev. J. B.
  Myers, Association Secretary, Baptist Missionary Society, Author
  of "William Carey, the Shoemaker who became the Father and Founder
  of Modern Missions."

William Carey, the Shoemaker who became the Father and Founder of
  Modern Missions. By Rev. J. B. Myers, Association Secretary,
  Baptist Missionary Society.

Robert Moffat, the Missionary Hero of Kuruman. By David J. Deane,
  Author of "Martin Luther the Reformer," "John Wicliffe," etc.

James Chalmers, Missionary and Explorer of Rarotonga and New Guinea.
  By William Robson, of the London Missionary Society.

Robert Morrison, the Pioneer of Chinese Missions. By William John
  Townsend, General Secretary of the Methodist New Connexion
  Missionary Society, Author of "The Great Schoolmen of the Middle
  Ages."

Bishop Patteson, the Martyr of Melanesia. By Jesse Page.

Griffith John, Founder of the Hankow Mission, Central China. By
  William Robson, of the London Missionary Society.

_One Hundred and Ninety-five Thousand of these Popular Volumes have
already been sold_.


_ONE SHILLING AND SIXPENNY REWARD BOOKS_.
_Crown_ 8_vo. Cloth extra. Fully illustrated_.

Amaranth's Garden. By M. S. Haycraft, Author of "A Quarrel most
  Unnatural," etc., etc. Illustrated by W. Rainey.

A Sailor's Lass. By Emma Leslie, Author of "The Gipsy Queen,"
  "Dearer than Life," etc.

The Canal Boy who became President. By Frederic T. Gammon. Eleventh
  Edition. Thirty-first Thousand.

Changing Places; or, Wilton Fairlegh in Animal-Land. By Gertrude
  Jerdon, Author of "Keyhole Country," etc. Full of Illustrations
  by W. Ralston and other Artists.

Clovie and Madge. By Mrs. G. S. Reaney, Author of "Our Daughters,"
  "Found at Last," etc.

The Dairyman's Daughter. By the Rev. Legh Richmond, M. A.

Dora Coyne; or, Hid in the Heart. By Jessie M. F. Saxby.
  Illustrated by Robert Barnes.

Ellerslie House. A Book for Boys. By Emma Leslie. With Eight
  full-page Engravings.

Fine Gold; or, Ravenswood Courtenay. By Emma Marshall. Author of
  "Eaglehurst Towers," "A Flight with the Swallows," etc.

Gerald's Dilemma. By Emma Leslie, Author of "Bolingbroke's Folly,"
  "The Five Cousins," etc.

Good Servants, Good Wives, and Happy Homes. By Rev. T. H. Walker.

Hampered; or, The Hollister Family and their Trials.
  By A. K. Dunning.

Her Two Sons. A Story for Young Men and Maidens. By Mrs. Charles
  Garnett, Author of "Mad John Burleigh: A Story of Heroic
  Self-Sacrifice," etc.

Hilda; or, Life's Discipline. By Edith C. Kenyon. With numerous
  Illustrations.

Hours with Girls. By Mrs. Margaret E. Sangster, Author of "May
  Stanhope and her Friends," "Splendid Times," etc.

How the Village was Won. By Isabel S. Robson.

Jack's Heroism. A Story of Schoolboy Life. By Edith C. Kenyon.

The Lads of Kingston. By James Capes Story, Author of "Manchester
  House," etc.

Like a Little Candle; or, Bertrande's Influence. By Mrs. Haycraft,
  Author of "Little Mother," etc.

The Little Princess of Tower Hill. By L. T. Meade, Author of "Sweet
  Nancy," etc.

The Little Woodman and his Dog Caesar. By Mrs. Sherwood.

Manchester House: A Tale of Two Apprentices. By J. Capes Story.

Marigold. By L. T. Meade, Author of "Lady of the Forest," etc., etc.

Mrs. Lupton's Lodgings. By Laura M. Lane, Author of "Living it
  Down," "Heroes of Every-Day Life," etc.

Our Duty to Animals. By Mrs. C. Bray, Author of "Physiology for
  Schools," etc. Intended to teach the young kindness to animals.
  Cloth, 1s. 6d.; School Edition, 1s. 3d.

Rag and Tag. A Plea for the Waifs and Strays of Old England. By Mrs.
  E. J. Whittaker.

Sallie's Boy. By Jessie M. F. Saxby, Author of "Dora Coyne," etc.,
  etc.

Satisfied. By Catherine M. Trowbridge. With Ten Illustrations by
  W. Rainey.

Yvonne St. Claire; or, Won by Patience. By Eliza F. Pollard, Author
  of "Robert Aske," etc., etc. Illustrated by W. Rainey.

Christ and Full Salvation. By Rev. J. B. Figgis, M.A. New and
  Cheaper Edition. Cloth.

Life Truths. By the Rev. J. Denham Smith. 16mo. Cloth. (Paper,
  Fourteenth Thousand, 6d.)

Women of the Bible. Old and New Testament. In one Volume. Royal
  16mo. Cloth.


1s. each.
_PICTURE BOOKS FOR THE YOUNG. Fcap_.  4_to_. _With Coloured Covers,_
_and Full of Illustrations_.

Sunbeam's Pictures and Stories: A Picture Story Book for Boys and
  Girls. By D. J. D., Author of "Sunny Faces," etc., etc. Four
  Full-page Coloured and numerous other Illustrations. Coloured
  Paper Cover, 1s.; Cloth, 1s. 6d.

Little Rosebud's Picture Book: A Picture Story Book for Little
  Folks. By J. D., Author of "Bright Rays for Cloudy Days," etc.
  Four Full-page Coloured and many other Illustrations. Coloured
  Paper Cover, 1s.; Cloth, 1s. 6d.

Sunny Hours: A Picture Story Book for the Young. By James Weston,
  Author of "The Young Folks' Picture Book," etc., etc. With Four
  full-page beautifully coloured and many other Illustrations.
  Coloured paper cover, 1s.; cloth, 1s. 6d.

Bright Rays for Cloudy Days. Pictures and Stories for the Little
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  full-page Coloured and numerous other Illustrations. Coloured
  paper cover, 1s. Cloth, 1s. 6d.

Smiles and Dimples; or, Happy Hours for Little Pets. By J. D.,
  Author of "Merry Times for Tiny Folks." With Four beautifully
  coloured and many other Illustrations. Coloured paper cover, 1s.
  Cloth, 1s. 6d.

Merry Times for Tiny Folks. By J. D. With Four beautifully coloured
  full-page and Thirty-five other Illustrations. Coloured paper
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Playtime Pictures and Stories. By Uncle Harry, Author of "Holiday
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Bible Pictures and Stories. Old Testament. By D. J. D., Author of
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  Coloured paper boards, 1s. Cloth gilt, 1s. 6d

Bible Pictures and Stories. New Testament. By James Weston and
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Holiday Hours in Animal-Land. By Uncle Harry. With Forty-four
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  1s. 6d. Second Edition.


COLOURED TOY BOOKS. 1s. each.

Our Playtime. A Series of Full-page and Coloured Vignettes,
  illustrating Children at Play, with descriptive Letterpress.
  Beautifully printed in Seven Colours in the best style of
  Lithography. Coloured Cover, Varnished. Size 12 1/2 by
  10 1/4 inches.

Our Lifeboats: Pictures of Peril and Rescue. A Series of Full-page
  and Vignetted Pictures of Lifeboats, Rocket Apparatus, Saving Life
  at Sea, and Heroic Exploits, with descriptive Letterpress.
  Beautifully printed in Seven Colours in the best style of
  Lithography. Size 12 1/2 by 10 1/4 inches.

Animals at Home and Abroad. Fourteen Coloured Pages of Animals Drawn
  from Life, with appropriate foot-lines. Printed in Seven Colours,
  in the best style of Lithography. Beautiful Coloured Cover,
  Varnished. Size 12 1/2 by 10 1/4 inches.

Off to the Fire; or, The Fire Brigade and its Work. A Series of
  full-page and vignetted Pictures of Fire Scenes, Escapes, Saving
  Life at Fires, Steamers and Manuals in Action, etc., etc., with
  descriptive Letterpress. Beautifully printed in Seven Colours in
  the best style of Lithography. With Coloured Varnished Cover.
  Size 12 1/2 by 10 1/4 inches.

      _Welcome in every Nursery, and by Children of all ages_.


_ONE SHILLING REWARD BOOKS._
_Fully Illustrated_. 96 _pages. Crown_ 8_vo. Cloth extra._

A Flight with the Swallows; or, Little Dorothy's Dream. By Emma
  Marshall, Author of "Poppies and Pansies," "Silver Chimes," etc.

Arthur Egerton's Ordeal; or, God's Ways not Our Ways. By the Author
  of "Ellerslie House," etc.

The Babes in the Basket; or, Daph and Her Charge. With Ten
  Illustrations.

The Band of Hope Companion. A Hand-book for Band of Hope Members:
  Biographical, Historical, Scientific, and Anecdotal.
  By Alf. G. Glasspool.

Bible Pattern of a Good Woman. By Mrs. Balfour.

Birdie and her Dog, and other Stories of Canine Sagacity. By Miss
  Phillips.

Bolingbroke's Folly. By Emma Leslie, Author of "A Sailor's Lass,"
  etc., etc.

Cared for; or, The Orphan Wanderers. By Mrs. C. E. Bowen, Author of
  "Dick and his Donkey," etc.

Children and Jesus; or, Stories to Children about Jesus.
  By Rev. E. P. Hammond.

Chine Cabin. By Mrs. Haycraft, Author of "Red Dave,"
  "Little Mother," etc.

Dulcie Delight. By Jennie Chappell, Author of "Her Saddest
  Blessing," "For Honour's Sake," etc.

Fiddy Scraggs; or, A Clumsy Foot may Step True. By Anna J. Buckland,
  Author of "Love and Duty," etc.

Fisher Reuel: A Story of Storm, Loss, and Gain. By Maggie Symington.

Frank Burleigh; or, Chosen to be a Soldier. By L. Phillips.

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                          9, PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON.



  [Transcriber's Notes:

    This book contains a number of misprints.
    The following misprints have been corrected:

      [Hazell, Watson, and Viney, Ld. Printers, London] -->
        [Hazell, Watson, and Viney, Ltd. Printers, London]

      ["Perseverence and Success,"] -->
        ["Perseverance and Success,"]

      [With Forty-five beautiful full-page Illustration.] ->
        [With Forty-five beautiful full-page Illustrations.]

    In the catalog at the end of the book, near "Our Lifeboats:"
    the size of the book is described with two numbers, the first
    of which is unreadable. This has been replaced with {unreadable}

    An Illustrations-list has been added after the Contents-list
  ]





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