Friarswood Post-Office

flowing quietly from his eyes as he lay, thinking. Sometimes it was the badness of the faults as he saw them now, looking so very different from wh

his widowed mother, reckless of his God-that each one seemed to cut into him with a sense of its ow

hat was like making it up. Though he knew very well that if he had ten thousand times worse than this to bear, it would not be making up for his faults, and he felt now that one of them had been his 'despising the chastening of the Lord.' And then the thought of what had made up for it would come: and though he had known of it all his life, and heeded it all too little, now that his heart was tender, and he

ind, and 'for me,' 'this fault of mine helped,' would rise with it, and the tears trickle

ht, the Milky Way, which they say is made of countless stars too far off to be distinguished, and looking like a cloud, and on it the larger, bri

esigned the

of pardo

s scourged and spit on, and for the sake of his faults, the lo

Ages, cle

de myself

ll into a more quiet sleep th

the common affairs of the day occupied him in a way that was not hurtful to him, as the one chief thought

struggle with sin over, and that he had nothing to do but to lie still and be pardoned. There was much more work, as he would find, when the present strong feeling should grow a little blunt; he wo

t feel quite so ill; and though he did not know how much this helped him, it made it much easier to act on his good res

id she, 'you must

shook her head so that Miss Jane tu

ed. 'Dr. Blunt says I

e you glad?' almos

ut Mr. Cope has been talking

saw Miss Jane's eyes winking very fast to check t

, in rather a trembling voice; 'but I'm sorry

I'm such a bad boy, but there are such

ll like what I've brough

rkness round, and the Inscription above His Head; and Miss Jane had pai

to him to be always reminded by the eye, of how 'He was wou

well in his sight. It was a pretty bright sight to see her insisting on holding the nail f

tears, of the happy change that had come over him ever since he had resigned himself to give up hopes of life. Mrs. King

es were much pleasanter payment than groans, murmurs, and scoldings; and the brother and sister sometimes grew quite cheerful and merry together, as Alfred lay raised up to look over the hedge into the harvest-field across the meadow, where

was for good luck! Some of the women in the field bound it up, but he was good for nothing after it except going

rter of an acre of wheat. The post made it impossible for him to go out to work like the labourers; and b

thought Mrs. King was a tyrant far worse than Farmer Shepherd, workin

im in the selfish fear of a rebuke from the clergyman, had been one of the turning-points of his life, and a turning-point for the b

with, keeping company with the wildest lads about the parish. That Dick Royston especially, whose honesty was doubtful, but who, being a clever fellow, was a sort of leader, was doing great harm by setting his face against the new parson, and laughing at the boys who went to him. Mrs. King was very unhappy. It was almost worse to think of Harold than of his sick brother; and Alfred grieved very much too, and took to himself the blame of having made home miserable to Harold, and driven him into bad c

osed to prepare for it in earnest, they would not press it on him. He was far from fit for it, and he was in such a mood of impatient irreverence, t

ed to think, he would have been shocked to see how cruelly he was paining his wido

ling ointment for the wound at the joint, when Harold took the evening letters into Elbury. Alfred reckoned

chill raw fog hanging over the meadows, and fast turning into rain, which hung in drops upon his eyebrows, and the many-tiered cape of his father's b

What a stumble! Ha! there's a shoe off. Be it known that it was Harold's own fault;

discomposed at being shod in a strange

he turned up the street, some one caught hold of him, and cried, '

hoe,' sai

t!' went on Dick Royston. 'Com

as like a tent, with a bright red star on a blue ground at the end, lighted up.

id Dick. 'You've only to lay down your tin; one copper for three shots, and if you hit, you may take your choice-gingerbread-nuts, or bits o

person he envied more than another, it was old Isaac Coffin, when he prowled up and down

away his half-pence, how should he pay for the shoeing of the pony? The blacksmith might trust him, or the clerk at the post-office would lend him t

am one, and what a miss he made! What business had every one to set up that great hoarse la

o encourage him. That made him mad to meet with real success; but it was the turn of another 'young gent,' as the man called him, and Harold had to stand by, with his penny in his hand, burning with impatience, and fancying he could mend each shot of that young gent, and another,

not do so without saying where he had been, and that he could not do

ened him. He had been there three-quarters of a

could look. 'This won't do, King,' he said. 'Late f

d Harold. He had never been

ot report you this time! But l

ugh he sometimes fancied himself sick of the whole post business, a complaint to his mother would be a dreadful matter. It put eve

baskets full of heaps of whiteness, and horses with vapoury webs of lace and cambric hanging on them; and the three ironing-boards, where sm

s Mrs. Parnell's best pocket-handkerchiefs, real Walencines!' (she meant Valenciennes.) 'If

you,

or I shall have 'em all to do over agai

etsey; I mu

r can sit down sensible and co

o ask you to lend me sixpence. Pony's cast a

d you leave

came to, up i

stuck-up proud body I ever saw-wears steel petticoats,

e, Betsey, let me have the sixpence;

asn't the way your poor father went on! He'd a civil word for every on

e,' said Haro

to Mother, what a misfortune it is upon poor Cousin King! they'll a

but not till all Betsey's pocket had been turned out; and finding nothing but shillings and threepenny-bits, she went all through

rth of blue, and brought home one shilling; and there was the sausages-no one could recollect what they had cost, though they talked so much about their taste; and five-pence-worth of red-herrings, and the but

his collar, and the thick rain plastering his hair, and streaming down the back of his neck. What a

d the bright light, as the cottage door was

d Ellen eagerly, 'is

sulky because he felt he was w

am

k her to t

ore you put her up. He is in such a way

n't g

t it! O

oe, and such weather! I declare I'm as wet-!' said Harold angrily, as he

afe?' called Mrs.

' cried Alfred, in a p

, and bolted to the sta

id Ellen, coming up

s forg

tely. 'He always does forget everything! He don't c

idn't think he'd have done it

fred. 'Taking his pleasure-and I must stay all this tim

already, and of the fatal illnesses that had been begun by being exposed to such weather, she was afraid to venture a boy with such a family constitution, an

ce and all his better thoughts were quite worn away, and he burst into tears of anger and cried out that it was

r mother, sadly grieved, but bearing it meekly.

d. 'But you always did put Harold before me. However,

made him worse. She went down to see about Harold, an additional off

ed, speak so to Mo

is cross enough to m

id Ellen. 'She c

ut again, though; I'm su

what the rain

ve minded; but you'

, Alfred; this isn't like

had need to be

t pacified by hearing sounds below that made him certain that H

entance, and the consciousness that he had been behaving m

and remember everything-pony losing her shoe, and nigh tumbl

ese days, Harold,' quietly answered his mother, so low, that Alfred

in a sullen voice, with a great mind to s

you as you deserve, I should send you to Mr. Blunt's this moment;

d no notion of being treated like a baby, and that he would soon shew her the differen

came to his bedside with a great basin of hot gruel. He said he hated such nasty sick stuff, and grunted savage

or of his false excuses. If he had not been dec

y them by the fire, 'I hope as you lie there you'll come to a better mind. It makes me afraid for you, my boy. It is no

ll hard, and would neither own h

, after hanging up the things by the fire, he had his

to keep himself from groaning and moaning all the time he was being put to bed. In fact, he rather liked

by thinking what an intolerable work Alfred was making on purpose. If he had tried to

ning reading, but it soothed him a little, and the pain was somewhat less, so he did fa

her head, at the click of the wicket gate, and a step plashing on the walk. She opened the little windo

's t

ve got the stuff,' call

rn!' exclaimed Mrs. King. 'Thank y

k him! But how ever did he know?' The tears came running down Alfred's cheeks at such kindness from a strang

ome in! Yes, come in! you must h

ade of moist mud, and might be squeezed into any shape, an

-such a night! But he'll sleep easy

ting up Peggy, in a great way because he'd forgotten. That's al

the remains of the fire; and as Paul's day-garments served him for night-gear likewise,

teful as she was, it was rather like sitting opposite

out a three-penny piece. 'I'd make it twi

't do it for that,' sai

ave some supper,

lf to-morrow, but that was nothing to her. It was a real pleasure to see the colour come into Paul's bony yellow cheeks at the hearty

eg that Paul would come and be thanked; and though Mrs. King was a li

ther an unmannerly way,

don't think Alfred will sleep

at the door. He had not forgotten his last reception, and would not come a

ank you, I never thought

as if he were running away, and tumbled down-stairs, and out

exertion made his neglect seem all the worse, and he was positively angry with him for 'going and meddling, and poking his nose where he'd no conc

his spirit, and carried off his selfish fit. He knew not how kind people were to him, and how ungrateful he had been to punish his innocent mother and sister, and so much to magnify a bit of thoughtlessness on Harold's part; to

nduct in illness? Was this patience? Was it brotherly love? Was it the taking up the cross so as

prayed over and over to be forgiven, and began to long for some assurance of pardon, and for something to

ear lad, don't fret about it. It was very hard for you to

if I don't go on no

uch less fractious now than you used to be, onl

d gro

thou shalt follow Me afterwards." You see, St. Peter couldn't bear his cross then, but he went on doing his best, and

Mr. Cope, and when he came, had scarcely answered his questions as to how he fel

ld getting idling, and forgetting to bring him the ointment. Why, even that vagabond boy was so shocked, that he went all the way to El

,' said Mr. Cope, smiling; 'but that

their being so good to me

d you are very much dis

g patient, and more like-' and his eyes turne

ience, and that he must take courage, though he had slipped, and pray for new stren

hey occur, for he said, 'Oh, I wish I was confirmed! If I could but ta

hough you cannot be confirmed. You should at once-but you see I am not yet a priest; I have not the power to administer the Holy Communion; but I trust I shall

pths of his heart, but he could no

are myself to have that great charge committed to me, which our Saviour Christ gave to His Apostles; so you prepare for the

, Sir?' murm

Mr. Cope; 'but your Catechism tells

hem; and I'm sure I do want to lead a new life, if I didn't keep on being so bad; and thinking about His dying is the best comfort I have

feelings deepened, and more earnest and steadfast. If the long waiting does tha

lfred. 'And may I think that all my fa

nt of, and br

church in the Absolution,'

iveness that our Saviour bought. I may not yet say those words with authority, Alfred, but I should

ay live to that

fred, if you thoroughly repent, and put your full faith in the great Sacrifice that has been offered for your sins and the sins of all t