pen to know how far
off the nearest railway station is?"

"Three miles," answered the stranger, "and in your condition you are
quite unfit to walk that distance."

"I'm not so sure of that," replied the youth, with a pitiful look. "I
think I'm game for three miles, if I had nothing to carry but myself,
but I can't leave my bicycle in the ditch, you know!"

"Of course you can't," rejoined the stranger in a cheery tone, "and I
think we can help you in this difficulty. I am a London City
Missionary. My name is John Seaward. We have, as you see, brought out
a number of our Sunday-school children, to give them a sight of God's
beautiful earth; poor things, they've been used to bricks, mortar, and
stone all their lives hitherto. Now, if you choose to spend the
remainder of the day with us, we will be happy to give you and the
injured bicycle a place in our vans till we reach a cabstand or a
railway station. What say you? It will give much pleasure to me and
the teachers."

Welland glanced at his friend. "You see, Sam, there's no help for it,
old boy. You'll have to return alone."

"Unless your friend will also join us," said the missionary.

"You are very kind," said Sam, "but I cannot stay, as I have an
engagement which must be kept. Never mind, Stephen. I'll just complete
the trip alone, and comfort myself with the assurance that I leave you
in good hands. So, good-bye, old boy."

"Good-bye, Twitter," said Stephen, grasping his friend's hand.

"Twitter," repeated the missionary, "I heard your friend call you Sam
just now. Excuse my asking--are you related to Samuel Twitter of
Twitter, Slime, and Company, in the city?"

"I'm his eldest son," said Sam.

"Then I have much pleasure in making your acquaintance," returned the
other, extending his hand, "for although I have never met your father, I
know your mother well. She is one of the best and most regular teachers
in our Sunday-schools. Is she not, Hetty?" he said, turning to a
sweet-faced girl who stood near him.

"Indeed she is, I was her pupil for some years, and now I teach one of
her old classes," replied the girl.

"I work in the neighbourhood of Whitechapel, sir," continued the
missionary, "and most of the children here attend the Institution in
George Yard."

"Well, I shall tell my mother of this unexpected meeting," said Sam, as
he remounted his bicycle. "Good-bye, Stephen. Don't romp too much with
the children!"

"Adieu, Sam, and