le go hungry. They are getting a humane education, a
heart education, added to the intellectual education of their schools.
Then it keeps them at home. I used to be worried with the lingering
about street corners, the dawdling around with other boys, and the idle,
often worse than idle, talk indulged in. Now they have something to
do, they are men of business. They are always hammering and pounding
at boxes and partitions out there in the stable, or cleaning up, and if
they are sent out on an errand, they do it and come right home. I don't
mean to say that we have deprived them of liberty. They have their days
for base-ball, and foot-ball, and excursions to the woods, but they have
so much to do at home, that they won't go away unless for a specific
purpose."

While Mrs. Morris was talking, her visitor leaned forward in her
chair, and listened attentively. When she finished, Mrs. Montague
said, quietly, "Thank you, I am glad that you told me this. I shall get
Charlie a dog."

"I am glad to hear you say that," replied Mrs. Morris. "It will be a
good thing for your little boy. I should not wish my boys to be without
a good, faithful dog. A child can learn many a lesson from a dog. This
one," pointing to me, "might be held up as an example to many a human
being. He is patient, quiet, and obedient. My husband says that he
reminds him of three words in the Bible 'through much tribulation.'"

"Why does he say that?" asked Mrs. Montague, curiously.

"Because he came to us from a very unhappy home." And Mrs. Morris went
on to tell her friend what she knew of my early days.

When she stopped, Mrs. Montague's face was shocked and pained. "How
dreadful to think that there are such creatures as that man Jenkins in
the world. And you say that he has a wife and children. Mrs. Morris,
tell me plainly, are there many such unhappy homes in Fairport?"

Mrs. Morris hesitated for a minute, then she said, earnestly: "My dear
friend, if you could see all the wickedness, and cruelty, and vileness,
that is practiced in this little town of ours in one night, you could
not rest in your bed."

Mrs. Montague looked dazed. "I did not dream that it was as bad as
that," she said. "Are we worse than other towns?"

"No; not worse, but bad enough. Over and over again the saying is true,
one-half the world does not know how the other half lives. How can all
this misery touch you? You live in your lovely house out of the town.
When you come in, y