ands of the white traders, when they have been taking
notes of the peltries they have bought from us or our Indian friends.
Then I have observed that they make marks with the end of a stick in
their books, and that is all I know about the matter."

"Oh, then, I must show you some books, and you must learn to read. It
is a sad thing not to be able to read the Bible."

"I have no wish to learn, though you are very kind to offer to teach
me," answered the boy, in a somewhat weary tone. "When I am well
enough, I should like to be following my father, or chasing the buffalo
with the brave hunters of the prairie. Still, I should be sorry to go
away from you and those who have been so kind to me."

"But it will be a long time before you are able to sit on horseback, or
to endure the wild camp-life of a hunter, and until that time comes you
must let me teach you."

"My head would ache if I were to try to learn anything so strange as
reading," said Laurence, closing his eyes. "Even now I cannot bear to
think. But you are very kind, very kind," he added, as if he felt the
little girl would consider him ungrateful for refusing her offer.

Mrs Ramsay, who had just then come in unperceived, had heard the last
part of the conversation, and understanding better than her daughter did
the boy's still weak state, saw that it was not the time to press the
point, and that it would be better just then to allow Laurence to fall
asleep, as she judged from his heavy eyes he was inclined to do. She,
therefore, smoothing his pillow, and bestowing a smile on him, led
Jeanie from the room.

Mrs Ramsay had gone through many trials. She had been brought up among
all the refinements of civilised society in Scotland, and had been early
brought by her pious parents to know and love the Lord Jesus. She had
married Mr Ramsay, then employed in the service of the Hudson's Bay
Company, dining a short visit he paid to his native land; but she had
been little aware of the dangers and hardships she would be called on to
endure in the wild region to which he was to take her. He had been so
accustomed to them from his earliest days that, when describing the life
he had led, he unconsciously made light of what might otherwise
naturally have appalled her. For his sake she forbore from complaining
of the perils and privations to which she had been exposed; and she had
ever, by trusting to the aid and protection of God, borne up under them
all. Two