Connecticut western news., 1877-07-27
BREAD UPON THE WATERS.

patch of cleared and well-kept wood- land, known to all the neighborhood as ssThe Grove" Whenever the Sunday School desired picnic, the squire was waited upon, and as matter of course, consented to it's being used. At other times, any one had the privilege of walking there, and the children came in the spring to gather wild flowers, or in the autumn to gather nuts. There fore the boy who sat upon the rough wooden bench fitted between two trees, with his head upon his hands, was not trespassing.
 He was tall, gaunt boy, with his sixteenth birthday close before him. His clothes were threadbare, but he had a decent look. He was past the age at which boys generally indulge in tears, but he was crying. Indeed, he. had come to that place for the express purpose of indulging his feelings unob- served. His hope of solitude proved vain one. however. Engrossed in his grief, he had not heard the sound of footsteps, when, looking up, he saw standing before him a girl of fifteen. Squire Hilton's only daughter, born when his days were on the very verge of winter-herself the perfect embodi- ment of spring.
 She was happy creature, who had never known care, who never thought it possible that she could wish for any thing she might not have; one who knowing herself rich and beautiful, but without pride or vanity, loved her father and mother intensely, and with good will for a world in which she as yet knew not that there was any harm. A girl who, in virtue of aristocratic position in that New England village, was as much under espionage as any French girl ever was. Yet with this advantage, she had no Idea she was guarded or that there was anything not to be known by her, or any one s e might not know. Therefore, knowing no reason why she should not address any one, and knowing the boy by name, she stood looking at him moment, and then said softly
 "Why, Edward Burr! what is the matter? Oh, I know; I heard of it.; your father is dead. I am very sorry"
 ''It's not very manly to cry, Miss Hilton," said the boy, standing up, and composing bis features as we'll as he could; ''but I could not help it.; he was all had, and it was so sudden. didn't mean any one should see me, though"
 "Roys and men must have feelings as we'll as girls and women," said Phemie Hilton. "I should break my heart if dear papa should die; and you baven't any mother, have your"
 "I have nobody" said the boy, "and hate the place. 1 couldn't work here now, since 1've seen father cut down a by that horrible machine. am going to the city to New York. Miss Hilton Pm going to walk there. Do you know how long it will take?"
 ''How long!" cried Phemie; "why you could never walk there; it takes days by the cars and boat; and why do you go to New York?"
 ''I must" said the boy. s'I can make my fortune there; father always said so.''
 "Yes, my father says New York is the place to make money," said Phemie s'but you must have some money to begin with. Have you any?"
 "Jwenty five cents," said the boy.
 "Then you'd starve to death where you had no friends" said the young girl, with an air of great wisdom and experience, "But papa knows every thing. Come home with me and ask his advice; he'll tell you what to do. If anybody can tell you what to do, it is my papa.'
 "But haven't any business to bother him about myself,' said the boy. "I me forward"
 "I'll tell him I made you come. You needn't be afraid of papa; he's as kind as kind can be. Come, now"
 Much against his will, Edward Burr followed Miss Hilton through the woods and across the lawn that encircled the squire's mansion. More against his will, he entered the broad hall and the study door.
 eff the squire kicks me out, deserve it," he said. And with his hat in his hand, he stood gazing in great confusion at the old white-headed gentleman, who, to his simple mind, represented the wealth and aristocracy of the land. A king could not have awed his hum- blest subject more, though Edward knew nothing of kings and would have declared, if questioned, that every man was equal.
 The squire looked up; his wife laid down the embroidery at which she was l at work. The unwilling visitor feared that he was expected to say something, and had no idea what words to utter which would fitly convey his compre- hension of the impropriety of his intru- sion on strange household. But Phemie saved him further anxiety.
 "Papa," she said, "this is poor MT. Burr's son, and he is going to New York, to seek his fortune, without any money but twenty-five cents, and I made him come to you to get advice. didn't think he could manage. What do you think9"
 After have talked with the young man, I'll know better" said the squire.
 The end of the talk was, that the squire said to Edward Burr,-
 ''I think you're a boy with will, and where there's will there's way, I'lI give you start. Take this note to MT. B--, No.-- Street, and he will give you employment. I'll give you a ticket to New York and fit you out so that you won't starve for week