d at him when he took out his little Bible, before
he went to bed, to drink of the waters of life. They railed at him,
called him "Little Pious," and tried to induce him to pitch cents, in
the back yard, on Sunday afternoon, instead of going to church. He
generally bore these taunts with patience, though sometimes his high
spirit would get the better of his desire to be what the little angel
wished him to be.

John Lane put up at the stable once a week; and, every time he
returned to Rockville, he carried a written or a verbal account of the
prosperity of the little pauper boy. One Sunday, he wrote her a long
letter all about "being good"--how he was tempted, and how he
struggled for her sake and for the sake of the truth.

In return, he often received messages and letters from her, breathing
the same pure spirit which she had manifested when she "fed him in the
wilderness." These communications strengthened his moral nature, and
enabled him to resist temptation. He felt just as though she was an
angel sent into the world to watch over him. Perhaps he had fallen
without them; at any rate, her influence was very powerful.

About the middle of January, when the earth was covered with snow, and
the bleak, cold winds of winter blew over the city, John Lane informed
Harry, on his arrival, that Julia was very sick with the scarlet fever
and canker rash, and it was feared she would not recover.

This was the most severe trial of all. He wept when he thought of her
sweet face reddened with the flush of fever; and he fled to his
chamber, to vent his emotions in silence and solitude.

CHAPTER XIV

IN WHICH HARRY DOES A GOOD DEED, AND DETERMINES TO "FACE THE MUSIC"

While Harry sat by the stove in the ostlers' room, grieving at the
intelligence he had received from Rockville, a little girl, so lame
that she walked with a crutch, hobbled into the apartment.

"Is my father here?" she asked, in tones so sad that Harry could not
help knowing she was in distress.

"I don't know as I am acquainted with your father," replied Harry.

"He is one of the ostlers here."

"Oh, Joseph Flint!"

"Yes; he has not been home to dinner or supper to-day, and mother is
very sick."

"I haven't seen him to-day."

"O, dear! What will become of us?" sighed the little girl, as she
hobbled away.

Harry was struck by the sad appearance of the girl, and the desponding
words she uttered. Of late, Joe Flint's vile habit of intemperance