pressed upon him, such were
the stern claims of duty that the pleasure of accepting it had
ruthlessly to be sacrificed.

What grit, what zest and sense of duty, the boy--for he was no more--must
have had, so to labour and yet to thrive gloriously! Perfect health, his
sound physique, his sunny nature, and strict adherence to the principles
of temperance encouraged by his mother, helped him to attain fine
manhood. During the period of his apprenticeship he was up to time on
every morning of the five years except one--and of his doings on that
fateful morning a story is told which, better perhaps than any other,
throws light upon his character.

It was a good custom of the firm to award a gold watch to every pupil
who ended his term without being late once. That morning Tom's clock had
failed to ring its alarm at the usual time, so despite every endeavour
the boy could not reach the gates before ten minutes past six. He might,
by losing the whole day and making some excuse, have escaped penalty:
instead, he waited outside the gates until eight o'clock and went in to
work at the breakfast hour.

One other story relating to this period is told by his mother. It too
reveals distinctive points of character.

On an occasion Tom, with several fellow-pupils, went on a walking tour
during the Easter holidays over the Ards peninsula. Crossing Strangford
Lough at Portaferry, they visited St. John's Point, the most easterly
part of Ireland; then, finding the tide favourable, crossed the sands
from Ballykinler to Dundrum--Tom carrying the youngest of the party on
his back through a deep intervening stretch of water--and thence, by way
of Newcastle, proceeded across the mountains to Rostrevor.

In their hotel at Rostrevor the boys, during an excess of high spirits,
broke the rail of a bedstead; whereupon Tom, assuming responsibility,
told the landlady that he would bear the expense of repairing the break.
She answered that in her hotel they did not keep patched beds,
consequently would be troubling him for the cost of a new one.

"If so, the old one belongs to me," said Tom.

"Provided you'll be taking it away," countered the dame.

The boy argued no further, but finding presently, through a friendly
chambermaid, an old charwoman who said her sick husband would rejoice in
the luxury of the bedstead, he offered to mend it and give it to her.

"Ah, but wouldn't it be more than my place is worth, child dear," she
answered, "for