a holiday had he spent at his
book, poring over its pages until the deepening twilight confused the
print, and made all the letters run into long words. Then would he press
his hands across his eyes, and wonder why they pained him so, and, when
the candles were lighted, what was the reason that they burned so dimly,
like the moon in a foggy night. Poor little fellow! So far as his eyes
were concerned, he was already an old man, and needed a pair of spectacles
almost as much as his own grandfather did.

And now, alas! the time was come, when even grandfather's spectacles could
not have assisted Edward to read. After a few bitter tears, which only
pained his eyes the more, the poor boy submitted to the surgeon's orders.
His eyes were bandaged, and, with his mother on one side, and his little
friend Emily on the other, he was led into a darkened chamber.

"Mother, I shall be very miserable," said Edward, sobbing.

"Oh, no, my dear child!" replied his mother, cheerfully. "Your eyesight
was a precious gift of Heaven, it is true; but you would do wrong to be
miserable for its loss, even if there were no hope of regaining it. There
are other enjoyments, besides what come to us through our eyes."

"None that are worth having," said Edward.

"Ah! but you will not think so long," rejoined Mrs. Temple, with
tenderness. "All of us--your father, and myself, and George, and our sweet
Emily--will try to find occupation and amusement for you. We will use all
our eyes to make you happy. Will not they be better than a single pair?"

"I will sit by you all day long," said Emily, in her low, sweet voice,
putting her hand into that of Edward.

"And so will I, Ned," said George, his elder brother,--"school time and
all, if my father will permit me."

Edward's brother George was three or four years older than himself, a
fine, hardy lad, of a bold and ardent temper. He was the leader of his
comrades in all their enterprises and amusements. As to his proficiency at
study, there was not much to be said. He had sense and ability enough to
have made himself a scholar, but found so many pleasanter things to do,
that he seldom took hold of a book with his whole heart. So fond was
George of boisterous sports and exercises, that it was really a great
token of affection and sympathy, when he offered to sit all day long in a
dark chamber, with his poor brother Edward.

As for little Emily Robinson, she was the daughter of one of Mr. Temple's
de