ith the neighbors generally, attended. How
differently the gospel message affects different persons! Some are
softened, others are hardened, by it. Some are stirred up to certain
duties, while, under the same sermon, others are incited to an
entirely different train of thought and course of action. The effect
on Tom of the sermons of the preacher was to incite his feelings to
revolt against his lot in life, and arouse him to the necessity of a
purpose in living. He did not look forward so much to the world to
come as to the "to come" of this world. The present in its relations
to life here--this was the point with him; and he revolved the
subject, viewing it in every possible light, until a decision was
reached.

"This preacher," said he, "is from a region of schools and privileges.
Why can I not seek such advantages, and be somebody, and accomplish
something? Why can I not go to the city to school this winter?" What
an idea for him! It almost took his breath to think of it. And, then,
how should he get there? Where was the money coming from to support
him while studying?

"I must work and earn it," he replied. "I can do anything honest; I
can, at least, work for my board."

Tom's mind had suffered from a famine of knowledge. He could read
passably well, write a little, was good at reckoning, and the little
he knew excited a craving for more. Public addresses had always moved
him deeply, and the living truths of the gospel, as presented by the
living preacher, had set the mental machinery in motion, until the
decision to go from home in search of an education, had been wrought
out; and it was this rising purpose that kept him so patiently at his
day's task of finishing up the fall work, that he might commence his
new career.

"I will finish getting in the crops by dark," said he, as he filled
the basket, "and then there will be nothing to keep me at home;" and
he was about raising the basket to his shoulder, when he was startled
from his reveries by a loud cry of,--

"Tom, Tom! come quick! I've caught a fawn, and he'll get away!" It was
twelve-year-old Charley from the hazel bushes that bordered the
potato-patch near the woods. Tom ran to assist his brother, but could
scarcely believe his eyes when he saw the little fellow had caught the
fawn by the tail, and was struggling to hold the agile creature,
forgetting how dexterously the deer can use his heels. Scarcely had
the elder brother mounted the fence, when, wi