old
man had given him a capital opportunity to get in another of his jokes,
just like an impromptu.

"I might have made a worse bargain," he said. "As long as I had one leg
left,"--he touched his solitary knee,-"I ought to call it a good
bargain. You see, I did not come off altogether without something to
boot."

"I hope you were contented to return to shoe-making?" remarked the
clergyman, laughing.

"Well--yes," replied Job, in his cheerful half whisper. "I did not find
the change so difficult as many would. I can say, truthfully, that, with
me, there was but one step between the battle-field and the shop."

Father Brighthopes took time to consider the enormity of this
far-reaching jest, and replied,

"Well, brother; I trust you get along pretty well now."

"Passable, passable. Better than I should, if I was a lamp-lighter or a
penny-postman. I wouldn't make a very good ballet-dancer, either. Do you
think I would?"

Father Brighthopes replied that, in his experience, he had learned to
regard a contented shoemaker as more blessed--even if he had lost a
leg--than a miserly millionaire, or an ambitious monarch.

"I've had considerable to try me, though," said Job. "Two fine boys, 'at
would now be able to take care of me and the family, got the small-pox
both 't a time; one was nineteen, t'other fifteen; I'd rather lost a
dozen legs, if I'd had 'em," he murmured, thoughtfully. "Then I've one
darter that's foolish and sickly. She an't able to do nothin', and it's
took more 'n my pension was wo'th to doctor her."

"You have seen affliction: thank God, my friend, that you have come
through it so nobly!" exclaimed Father Brighthopes, smiling, with tears
of sympathy running down his cheeks.

He patted Job's shoulder kindly; and the poor fellow could not speak,
for a moment, his heart was touched so deeply.

"It's all for the best, I s'pose," said he, coughing, and drawing his
shirt-sleeve across his eyes.

"Yes; and you will get your reward," answered the old man.

"So I believe! I find so much comfort in these good old leaves."

Job pointed to a worn Bible, that lay on the mantel-piece.

"Right! right!" cried the clergyman, joyously. "Job Bowen, there is a
crown for thee! Job Bowen, in my life I have not met with twenty men so
blessed as thou. But thousands and thousands of the rich and prosperous
well might envy thee, thou poor Christian shoemaker, with one leg!"

"Thank you! thank you, for saying so much