inous lands, for it was there the
advantage to Mrs John would be. They would find it cold as the autumn
passed into winter during their journey, intensely cold, perhaps; but it
would be bright and sunshiny as a rule, and the clear pure air of the
elevated regions gave health and strength.

I thought a great deal about it, and felt puzzled sometimes, wondering
whether it could be wise to take a delicate woman all that tremendous
distance. But I was too young, I thought, to have opinions worth
consideration, and I always came to the conclusion that my elders must
know best.

Then came the day for parting, so quickly that I could hardly believe
it. The luggage had gone on some days before to Liverpool, and there
were Esau and I seeing after the few things that were to accompany the
travellers in their cabins, as we stood on the platform at Euston.

Mrs John looked terribly thin and worn, more suited, I thought, for
going at once to her bed than to venture on such a terrible journey; but
there was a bright, hopeful look in her eyes as I helped her to her
seat, and she spoke quite cheerily as she held my hand, Mr John holding
the other, and we occupied ourselves with our final good-byes, so as not
to notice Mrs Dean and her son. But I could not help hearing Esau's
words--

"Oh, I say, mother, don't--don't! You must get to your seat now.
There, good-bye, dear. It isn't so very far after all, and we'll be
there waiting for you, and ready to welcome you when you come."

"But is it right, dear?" she said; "is it right?"

"'Course it is. Don't turn coward. You must go now all the things are
sold."

There was a final embrace; Mrs Dean was hurried into her seat, the door
closed; Mr John pressed my hand hard without a word, and Mrs John put
her arms about my neck and kissed me.

"God bless you! _au revoir_!" she said.

"Stand back, sir, please," some one shouted; the engine gave a piercing
shriek, and Esau and I stood on the stone platform watching the train
glide away with many a head out of the window, and hand and kerchief
waving growing more and more confused, while a sense of desolation and
loneliness oppressed me till I quite started at my companion's words.

"Oh, won't poor mother have a big cry up in a corner all the way down.
It's very rum, but I suppose she is fond of me."

"Fond of you?" I said; "of course."

"Well," he said, "here we are, passages paid, and all that money in our
pockets, and nothi