e, I came hither, and found only this grave. I knew
that my father was sleeping here, and I said, This shall be my home."

"No, child, no; not while I have a roof over my head, or a morsel to
share with you!" exclaimed the Puritan, whose sympathies were now fully
excited. "Rise up and come with me, and fear not any harm."

The boy wept afresh, and clung to the heap of earth, as if the cold
heart beneath it were warmer to him than any in a living breast. The
traveller, however, continued to entreat him tenderly, and seeming to
acquire some degree of confidence, he at length arose. But his slender
limbs tottered with weakness, his little head grew dizzy, and he leaned
against the tree of death for support.

"My poor boy, are you so feeble?" said the Puritan. "When did you taste
food last?"

"I ate of bread and water with my father in the prison," replied
Ilbrahim, "but they brought him none neither yesterday nor to-day,
saying that he had eaten enough to bear him to his journey's end.
Trouble not thyself for my hunger, kind friend, for I have lacked food
many times ere now."

The traveller took the child in his arms and wrapped his cloak about
him, while his heart stirred with shame and anger against the gratuitous
cruelty of the instruments in this persecution. In the awakened warmth
of his feelings, he resolved that, at whatever risk, he would not
forsake the poor little defenceless being whom Heaven had confided to
his care. With this determination, he left the accursed field, and
resumed the homeward path from which the wailing of the boy had called
him. The light and motionless burden scarcely impeded his progress, and
he soon beheld the fire rays from the windows of the cottage which he, a
native of a distant clime, had built in the Western wilderness. It was
surrounded by a considerable extent of cultivated ground, and the
dwelling was situated in the nook of a wood-covered hill, whither it
seemed to have crept for protection.

"Look up, child," said the Puritan to Ilbrahim, whose faint head had
sunk upon his shoulder, "there is our home."

At the word "home," a thrill passed through the child's frame, but he
continued silent. A few moments brought them to the cottage-door, at
which the owner knocked; for at that early period, when savages were
wandering everywhere among the settlers, bolt and bar were indispensable
to the security of a dwelling. The summons was answered by a
bond-servant, a coarse-clad and