is little frame was so weary at night, that he had hardly
time to feel rested, until called with the dawn to renew his labour. A
monthly Sunday however, was the golden period looked forward to in his
day-dreams, for it had been stipulated by his parent, that on Saturday
evening every four weeks, he was to come home, and stay all the next
day. And when the time arrived, how nimbly did he get over the ground
that stretched between him and the goal of his wishes! How much he
had to tell! But as soon as he began to complain, his mother would say
cheerfully, although her heart bled for the hardships of her child,

"Never mind, you will get used to work, and after awhile, when you grow
up, you can rent a farm, and take me to keep house for you."

This was the impulse that prompted to action. No one can be utterly
miserable who has a hope, even a remote one, of bettering his condition;
and with a motive such as this to cheer him, Johnny persevered; young
as he was, he understood the necessity. But how often, during the four
weary weeks that succeeded, did the memory of the Saturday night he had
spent at home come up before his mental vision! The fresh loaf of rye
bread, baked in honour of his arrival, and eaten for supper, with maple
molasses--the very molasses he had helped to boil on shares with Farmer
Thrifty's boys in the spring. What a feast they had! Then the long
evening afterwards, when the blaze of the hickory fires righted up
the timbers of the old cabin with a mellow glow, and mother looked so
cheerful and smiled so kindly as she sat spinning in its warmth and
light. And how even father had helped to pop corn in the iron pot.

Ah! that was a time long to be remembered; and he had ample opportunity
to draw comparisons, for he often thought his master cared more for his
cattle than he did for him, and it is quite probable he did; for while
they were warmly housed he was needlessly exposed, and his comfort
utterly disregarded. If there was brush to cut, or fence to make, or
any out-door labour to perform, a wet, cold, or windy day was sure to be
selected, while in _fine weather_ the wood was required to be chopped,
and, generally speaking, all the work that could be done under shelter.
Yet we dare say Farmer Watkins never thought of the inhumanity of this,
or the advantage he would himself derive by arranging it otherwise.

John Cole had been living out perhaps a year. He had not grown much in
this period; his frame