river, a porter, a wood-cutter, indeed, a
jack-at-all-trades; and so honest, capable, and good-tempered had he
always shown himself, that he everywhere won a good name, and had
sometimes continued for years in the same employ. Previous to his
entering upon the service in which we find him, he had been a porter in
a large store, owned by a wealthy and generous merchant. Being one day
engaged in removing some casks, he was severely injured by one of them
falling upon his chest. For a long time no hope was entertained of his
recovery; and when he began to mend, his health returned so gradually
that it was a year before he was able to be at work again. This sickness
swallowed up the savings of years; but his late employer never allowed
him to want for any comforts, provided an excellent physician, and saw
that he was well taken care of.

But True had never been the same man since. He rose from his sick-bed
debilitated, and apparently ten years older, and his strength so much
enfeebled, that he was only fit for some comparatively light employment.
It was then that his kind master obtained for him the situation of
lamplighter; and he frequently earned considerable sums by sawing wood,
shovelling snow, and other jobs. He was now between fifty and sixty
years old, a stoutly-built man, with features cut in one of nature's
rough moulds, but expressive of much good nature. He was naturally
reserved, lived much by himself, was little known, and had only one
crony, the sexton of a neighbouring church.

But we left Gertie finishing her supper, and now she is stretched upon
the wide settle, sound asleep, covered up with a warm blanket, and her
head resting upon a pillow. True sits beside her; her little, thin hand
lies in his great palm--occasionally he draws the blanket closer around
her. She breathes hard; suddenly she gives a nervous start, then speaks
quickly; her dreams are evidently troubled. True listens intently to her
words, as she exclaims eagerly, "Oh, don't! don't drown my kitty!" and
then, again, in a voice of fear, "Oh, she'll catch me! she'll catch me!"
once more; and now her tones are touchingly plaintive and
earnest--"Dear, dear, good old man! let me stay with you; do let me
stay!"

Tears are in Trueman Flint's eyes; he lays his great head on the pillow
and draws Gerty's little face close to his; at the same time smoothing
her long, uncombed hair with his hand. He, too, is thinking aloud--what
does _he_ say? "Catch