s they did, in opposition to a little boy
anxious to earn his bread by learning a useful trade."

Mrs. Burrell was a young woman of about twenty-two, with a round
good-natured face and plump comfortable-looking figure; she had a heart
overflowing with kindness, and was naturally much affected by what he
related. "I declare it's perfectly outrageous," exclaimed she, indignantly;
"and I wonder at Blatchford for submitting to it. I wouldn't allow myself
to be dictated to in that manner--and he such an Abolitionist too! Had I
been him, I should have stuck to my principles at any risk. Poor little
fellow! I so wonder at Blatchford; I really don't think he has acted
manly."

"Not so fast, my little woman, if you please--that is the way with almost
all of you, you let your hearts run away with your heads. You are unjust to
Blatchford; he could not help himself, he was completely in their power. It
is almost impossible at present to procure workmen in our business, and he
is under contract to finish a large amount of work within a specified time;
and if he should fail to fulfil his agreement it would subject him to
immense loss--in fact, it would entirely ruin him. You are aware, my dear,
that I am thoroughly acquainted with the state of his affairs; he is
greatly in debt from unfortunate speculations, and a false step just now
would overset him completely; he could not have done otherwise than he has,
and do justice to himself and his family. I felt that he could not; and in
fact advised him to act as he did."

"Now, George Burrell, you didn't," said she, reproachfully.

"Yes I did, my dear, because I thought of his family; I really believe
though, had I encouraged him, he would have made the sacrifice."

"And what became of the boy?"

"Oh; poor lad, he seemed very much cut down by it--I was quite touched by
his grief. When I came out, I found him standing by a shop window crying
bitterly. I tried to pacify him, and told him I would endeavour to obtain a
situation for him somewhere--and I shall."

"Has he parents?" asked Mrs. Burrell.

"Yes; and, by the way, don't you remember whilst the mob was raging last
summer, we read an account of a man running to the roof of a house to
escape from the rioters? You remember they chopped his hands off and threw
him over?"

"Oh, yes, dear, I recollect; don't--don't mention it," said she, with a
shudder of horror. "I remember it perfectly."

"Well, this little fellow is his son,"