ever in her thoughts; and gladly would she have been a pauper applying
for relief, if she had but that child to have led up in her hand. And
yet all the county thought how happy and contented the Austins ought to
be, to have suddenly come into possession of so much wealth. 'Tis God
alone that knows the secrets of the heart of man.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

A VERY LONG CHAPTER, BUT IN WHICH OUR HERO OBTAINS EMPLOYMENT IN A VERY
SHORT TIME.

The preparatory establishment for young gentlemen to which our hero had
been sent, was situated on Clapham-rise. Joey did not think it prudent
to walk in the direction of London; he therefore made a cut across the
country, so as to bring him, before seven o'clock in the morning, not
very far from Gravesend. The night had been calm and beautiful, for it
was in the month of August; and it had for some time been broad daylight
when our hero, who had walked fifteen or sixteen miles, sat down to
repose himself; and, as he remained quietly seated on the green turf on
the way side, he thought of his father and mother, of the kindness of
the McShanes, and his own hard fate, until he became melancholy and
wept; and, as the tears were rolling down his cheeks, a little girl, of
about ten years old, very neatly dressed, and evidently above the lower
rank of life, came along the road, her footsteps so light as not to be
perceived by Joey; she looked at him as she passed, and perceived that
he was in tears, and her own bright, pretty face became clouded in a
moment. Joey did not look up, and after hesitating awhile, she passed
on a few steps, and then she looked round, and observing that he was
still weeping, she paused, turned round, and came back to him; for a
minute or two she stood before him, but Joey was unconscious of her
presence, for he was now in the full tide of his grief, and, not having
forgotten the precepts which had been carefully instilled into him, he
thought of the God of Refuge, and he arose, fell on his knees, and
prayed. The little girl, whose tears had already been summoned by pity
and sympathy, dropped her basket, and knelt by his side--not that she
prayed, for she knew not what the prayer was for, but from an
instinctive feeling of respect towards the Deity which her new companion
was addressing, and a feeling of kindness towards one who was evidently
suffering. Joey lifted up his eyes, and beheld the child on her knees,
the tears rolling down her cheeks; he hastil