e upon. Josiah's clothes were well nigh gone; they were indeed
ragged; there was nothing left to sew patches to; and all he had in the
world was on him, except a smock frock which he put on over them on the
Sabbath.

These considerations gave a thoughtful tone to the nailer's voice as
they came upon his mind, and a thoughtful air came over the family group
when he had finished, and they all looked straitly into the fire as much
as to say, "It cannot be done." So I began at the bacon to soften down
these obstacles--there were nearly 150 pounds of it, besides a spare-rib
hanging from another joist--and suggested how much better off they were
than ten thousands of poor people in the world. Could they ever spare
Josiah better than during this winter? He would learn faster now than
when he was older, and when they could not spare him so well. Nor was
this all; if they could get on without him for a few months, he might
not only learn to read without spelling, but he could teach his three
little sisters to read during the winter nights, and the baby, too, as
soon as it could talk; so that sending him to school now, would be like
sending all his children to the same school. Yes, it might be more than
this. Let him go for a few months, and when he came back to the anvil,
he might work all day, and in the evening he might get together all the
nailer children that lived within a mile, and teach them how to read and
write. There was the little Wesleyan chapel within a rod of their own
door, lying useless except on Sundays. It would be just the place for an
evening school for fifty or even a hundred little children, whose
parents were too poor to send them to the day-schools of the town. And
wouldn't they like to look in and see Josiah with his primer in hand
teaching their neighbors' children to read in this way; with his clean
smock-frock on, setting copies in the writing-books of the little
nailers? Josiah, who was standing between my knees, looking sharply into
the fire with his picture book in his hand, turned suddenly around at
this idea and fixed his eyes inquiringly upon my own. The thought
vibrated through all the fine-strung sympathies of parental affection.
The mother leaned forward to part away the black hair from the boy's
forehead, and said softly to his father, that she would take the lad's
place at the anvil, if they should want his wages while at school. This
was the crisis of my errand; and, in my imagination, I tr