Year: 1873

story not long since which think
is worth telling over. The parties
of whom he spoke were near by,
and it was the presence of the hero
that called the cir, ulnstances to
mind.


Able Morton was q youth Of
about seventeen. His mother was
a widow, and he an only child.
They lived in a small hut in the
outskirts of the village and were
very poor. During the long cold
winter, the widow had been very
sick, so that Able had been obliged
to spend most of his time with her.


The youth had never learned any
trade, as various circumstances had
combined to prevent his leaving
home. He worked wherever he
could get work to do, and thus far


managed to find food enough to


keep himself and mother alive,


though they suffered much with
cold.


AS the spring opened Able tried
t. find work, bat was not successful.
lie picked up few odd jobs now
and then, but the proceeds were
barely suiiidient to purchase
enough of the coarsest, cheapest
food. Clothing they could not buy,
and poor Able began to fear he
must beg suit of clothes, OF, what
was worse, leave his mother. But
the latter he could not do.


One afternoon he went into the
village and spent several hours in
hunting for work, but he found
nothing to DO. Some seemed to
turn Him away because he looked
so ragged, while others said they
never employed any one outside of
their own household.


Faint and sick at heart, Abel
turned his steps homeward. He
left the village, and was turning in
to the narrow lane that led to his
home, when he detected something
peculiar upon the roadside. He
picked it up and found it to be
small knit purse. 1t was quite
heavy, and the jingle of the con-
tents was too sharp and clear fer
coppers.


The poor youth did not stop to
open it then, for it was already
dusk, and he knew his mother
would be anxious. So with strange
ly beating heart he hurried home
ward. He entered the little room
where his mother was sitting and
sank down in q chair.


"Alas, no work." the widow mur-
mured as she saw the cloud upon
the boys face.


"No," he replied, 81 tried all
around but it was no use"


"Never mind, Abel, God is good. !
We shall not suffer as those who do
not trust in him."


"But how does He help us, moth
asked Able in q faltcring
voice.


"In many ways my son. He has
preserved us through many trials,
md has given us hope and courage.
He has preserved me true and
rirtuous child, and has held us
clear of many suiferings which af-
Ilict our fellows. Look at Mrs.
Tyndall; see her with all her
wealth suffering tortures that
would not suffer for worlds. See
her only son, poor, miserable ine-
briate, and in prison for drunken
crime For what would we ex-
change our noble consciences of
right and honor.


Able made no reply. There had
been something bearing down heav-
ily upon his soul, something which
ay in his pocket, and sent forth a
serpent tone of plenty. But the
Dad was removed. lie drew the
purse forth from his pocket and
aid il on the table by his side.


"What is that p the widow as
she heard the sharp chink of the
,oin."


"a purse-I found it on the
-oad.'


"Found it Oh! did you find
i Z" .fg1.r


"Yes, mother. In the road, just
At the turn Of the lane. 1t lay on
he foot path.v