The Portland daily press., 1868-11-21

with Edmund Carew, to dine with old Mr.. !
Blenkinsopp. And then John Henthorn .
told his story. After receiving the watch and /
notes. he remained at the "Blue Boar.r In the /
hope OF hearing OF some employment. While |
waiting, he had met Mr.. Ebenezer Grant who |
had been most affable, and most prodigal in |
his promises to get John employment. John !
admitted that he was very much taken with !
his companion, and that he had confded too /
much to him. He told him of the curious
OLD gentleman who had entrusted his proper
ty to him: he showed him the watch and the
notes; and Mr.. Ebenezer Grant had taken
great deal Of interest in the story, and had
examined the watch and the notes, and pro-
nounced ON the quality of both. He had en-
deavored to persuade John to give them up
to him to keep; he had declared he knew the
old gentleman quite well; and when ne iouno
that this tack was unsuccessful, ne made
hints which John did not understand then,
but the meaning of which he now under
stood fully-yiz., that they should go off with
the money and divide the spoil.
John told them more of his own history
| How his mother had died when he was
Young, and his father only lately, leaving his
sister and himself totally unproyided for.
| how they had sold the little furniture in the
cottage in the little country town where they
lived, and had come up to town to seek their
fortune, and how all their little fund was
spent.
When the little dinner party broke up,
TANK everybody went home happier. Ed
mund Carew telt happier. 1t was not be-
cause he had made good start in his pro-
iessloni for he was hardly aware of that he
had been interested in the case, and had for
| gotten himself; it was not because Mr.. Blen-
kinsopp had compelled him to take one of
| the bank notes as a fee, and Edmund Carew
his barrister; it was not because he had
made the acquaintance of the senior partner
OF an influential firm of city lawyers-I
think the happy faces of the brother and
| sister whom he had beiriended made him
feel happy; but this know, that when he
reached his lonely chambers, they did not
seem SO lonely as usual, fragrant memory
seemed to be present, frail, fairy like little
form seemed to move about them; and when
he Tell asleep, he dreamed that light little
finger was laid upon his elbow, and two
bright little eager eyes were gazing into his.
MI. Blenkinsopp went home happier He
was lone old man. He had a benevolent
heart; but he was odd People thought him
stern old man; but they md not know the
painful story Of his lite; they did not know
OF the sweet home he had had when young,
and how in week the old home had been
broken up, and he had been sent to the care
OF stern old aunt, full of precise kindness,
did not know of the uphill fight he had en-
dured, nor yet how he had forsaken many a
pleasure and many gain that he might go
home and watch by the side of his sick old
aunt who had been the making OF him; still
less did they know the story OF the old Bible,
which his aunt had read so regularly to him
when he was lad, and which he read so
Regularly to his aunt when she was an inva-
lid; th5y did not know of that night when
| CT cnf4 Ill
and the story of loving Saviors death had
laid hold upon her heart, and he learned to
see there was more of reality in that word
than he had ever thought OF, and went into
his room to read and pray, but not to rest
They did not know how the bright and happy
truth had at length dawned upon him, and
how he had changed in all but the cold, stiff,
manner that he could not change; for though
the heart was warm and tender that beat
within, there was needed something without
to draw forth the kindler manner.
John and his sister went home happier
that night; for Johns misfortune had proved
his success, and he was TO go TO Mr. Dlenkin-
sopp's to morrow, and commence his occupa-
ton as clerk there at a fair salary.
John said little Lucy, as she babe her
brother goodnight. 81 have thought OF a nice
| text for to-day
$50 have l, Lucy"
| "What is yours, John ?"
| mo, tell me yours first, Lucy.
"When my father and mother forsake me,
the Lord taketh me up" And now yours,
| john"
II have been young, and now am old, vet
never saw | the righteous forsaken, nor his
| seed begging their bread That's the text
that came into my mind when Mr.. Dlenkin-
sopp told me could go to him as clerk. /
remembered our dear fathers LIE, Lucy, and
how he wore himself out in trying to help
others, and how he always said that he could
| trust the providence of God, because he
knew the grace of God"
| Then they parted for the night, and little
Lucy knelt beside her tiny bed in that dingy
| little room, and thanked God for his care AN
| prayed blessing on the good old man, and
the noble young man who had beirended
them that day.
There was wedding some years after
| this, when Edmund Carew, ESQ.,, Q. c., was
married to Lucy Henthorn, only sister of
John Henthorn, Esq, of the firm of Blenkin-
sopp and Henthom; and very happy we'd
ding it was. and people remarked that old
Mr.. BleI,kinsopp looked the merriest of the
party till the bride and bridegroom went
| away, and then it was noticed that he cough
ed good deal, and muttered to bimse f, and
wiped his spectacle glasses very often.
w r n.