Giles's sons; but seeing Dick sitting by himself, he once more spoke
to him, desired him to leave off his vagabond life, and go with him
into the school. The boy hung down his head, but made no answer. He
did not, however, either rise up and run away, or look sulky, as he
used to do. The minister desired him once more to go. "Sir," said
the boy, "I can't go; I am so big I am ashamed." "The bigger you are
the less time you have to lose." "But, sir, I can't read." "Then it
is high time you should learn." "I should be ashamed to begin to
learn my letters." "The shame is not in beginning to learn them, but
in being content never to know them." "But, sir, I am so ragged!"
"God looks at the heart, and not at the coat." "But, sir, I have no
shoes and stockings." "So much the worse. I remember who gave you
both. (Here Dick colored.) It is bad to want shoes and stockings,
but still if you can drive your asses a dozen miles without them,
you may certainly walk a hundred yards to school without them."
"But, sir, the good boys will hate me, and won't speak to me." "Good
boys hate nobody, and as to not speaking to you, to be sure they
will not keep your company while you go on in your present evil
courses; but as soon as they see you wish to reform, they will help
you, and pity you, and teach you; and so come along." Here Mr.
Wilson took this dirty boy by the hand, and gently pulled him
forward, kindly talking to him all the way, in the most
condescending manner.

How the whole school stared to see Dick Giles come in! No one,
however, dared to say what he thought. The business went on, and
Dick slunk into a corner, partly to hide his rags, and partly to
hide his sin; for last Sunday's transaction sat heavy on his heart,
not because he had stolen the apples, but because Tom Price had been
accused. This, I say, made him slink behind. Poor boy! he little
thought there was One saw him who sees all things, and from whose
eye no hole nor corner can hide the sinner: "For he is about our
bed, and about our path, and spieth out all our ways."

It was the custom in that school, and an excellent custom it is, for
the master, who was a good and wise man, to mark down in his
pocket-book all the events of the week, that he might turn them to
some account in his Sunday evening instructions; such as any useful
story in the newspaper, any account of boys being drowned as they
were out in a pleasure boat on Sundays, any sudden death in the
parish