at quicker as she thought of her own dear little
ones, and imagined one of them sleeping, perhaps, through that cold
November night on the ground, or (fearful thought!) buried deep in the
chill water.

After church, you could hear one and another inquiring anxiously, "Has
the child been found?" But no favourable answer was received. In the
afternoon, however, many hearts were gladdened by learning that he was
safe. He had gone to the village, and got his pennyworth of yeast, and
then, instead of returning immediately, he stopped to play with some
boys. He had gone with them to a part of the village with which he was
not acquainted and when he wished to go home, he did not know what
direction to take. He chose a road leading him from home, and wandered
at least five miles. Just before dark an old gentleman and his
grandson were walking on the road, and they observed this little boy
crying.

"What do you suppose he is crying about?" said the child to his
grandfather.

"I don't know. Perhaps he has been sent to the grocery, and does not
like to go."

They watched him and found he did not stop, but passed on with his tin
pail, crying grievously. They waited for him to come up to them, and
asked him,

"What are you crying about?"

"I want to go home!"

"Where is your home?"

The boy could not tell.

"What is your name?"

"William Hudson." He did not say, as he should have done, William
Hudson McPherson.

The old gentleman kindly took him by the hand, and led him to his own
home. William's tears were soon dried, and he became quite contented.
It was too late to attempt to find his parents that night, as he could
not tell where they lived, and the name of Hudson was not familiar to
the good people who had given him shelter.

When Sabbath morning came, William was questioned again and again,
till at length some clue was obtained of his father's place of
residence. The horse was harnessed, and William, with lame and
blistered feet, was placed in the wagon. About noon he safely reached
home, and was clasped once more to his mother's heart. The father had
not returned from his search, and he afterwards said, it had seemed to
him that he never could go home without his child, on account of the
terrible and almost frantic distress of the mother. As he approached
his house, borne down with grief, he saw a wagon at the door. His
heart leaped with joy, for he thought the lost one was found. He
opened the door hopeful