ink the pure waters of life.

No one had ever before seemed to care much whether he was a good boy
or a bad boy. The minister used now and then to give him a dry
lecture; but he did not seem to feel any real interest in him. He was
minister, and of course he must preach; not that he cared whether a
pauper boy was a saint or a sinner, but only to do the work he was
hired to do, and earn his money.

Julia did not preach. Her sweet face was the "beauty of holiness." She
hoped he was not a bad boy. She liked a good boy; and this was
incentive enough to incur a lifetime of trial and self-sacrifice.
Harry was an orphan. To have one feel an interest in his moral
welfare, to have one wish him to be a good boy, had not grown stale by
long continuance. He had known no anxious mother, who wished him to be
good, who would weep when he did wrong. The sympathy of the little
angel touched a sensitive chord in his heart and soul, and he felt
that he should go forward in the great pilgrimage of life with a new
desire to be true to himself, and true to her who had inspired his
reverence.

Even a child cannot be good without having it felt by others. "She
hoped he was not a bad boy," were the words of the little angel; and
before she returned from her errand of mercy, he repeated them to
himself a hundred times. They were a talisman to him, and he was sure
he should never be a bad boy in the face of such a wish.

He wandered about the woods for two or three hours, impatient for the
return of the little rural goddess who had taken possession of his
thoughts, and filled his soul with admiration. She came at last, and
glad was the welcome which he gave her.

"I have been thinking of you ever since I left you," said Julia, as
she approached the place where he had been waiting her return.

Harry thought this was a remarkable coincidence. He had been thinking
of her also.

"I hope you didn't think of me as a bad boy," replied he, giving
expression to that which was uppermost in his mind.

"I am sure I didn't. I am sure you must be a good boy."

"I am glad you think so; and that will help me be a good boy."

"Will it?"

"I never had any one to care whether I was good or bad. If you do, you
will be the first one."

The little girl looked sad. She had a father and mother who loved her,
and prayed for her every day. It seemed hard that poor Harry should
have no mother to love him as her mother loved her; to watch over him
day and ni