light. Seated thus, gazing over the moonlit landscape I began (with a
mind beyond my years) to look far away into the future, and I made many
resolves for my course of action in time to come. I wished to assist my
uncle in doing up the "chores" for the night, but he would not hear of
it. "You'll get work enough here," said he, "but you shall rest after
your journey and you shall not lift a hand to-night." When work was over
and the house quiet, Aunt Lucinda placed the large family Bible upon
the table, preparatory to their evening worship. "Now won't it be nice,
Lucinda," said Uncle Nathan, "we've got some one in the house that has
good eyes, to read the chapter for us every night, it bothers me to read
by lamplight, and I have often heard you call a word wrong if the light
was the least mite dim." "My sight isn't so bad as it might be," replied
my aunt who evidently did not relish this hint that she was not as young
as she had been, but she readily consented that for the future I should
read the Chapter from the Bible each evening. After reading we all
kneeled and Uncle Nathan offered a simple but heartfelt prayer, in which
he failed not to remember the poor boy, who kneeled by his side, as well
as his distant friends. After prayers I was shown at once to the room
which was to be mine during my stay, and very different it was from the
one I occupied at Farmer Judson's. It was an airy, cheerful, looking
apartment, furnished plainly, but with everything necessary to my
comfort. When left alone my first act was to remove from my trunk the
small Bible which was my mother's parting gift, with the request that I
would allow no day to pass without reading at least one Chapter, alone.
And I have no doubt the obeying my mother's parting injunction, made the
slumber all the sweeter, which weighed down my eyelids almost as soon as
my head pressed my pillow.

CHAPTER IX.

Before a week had passed away I made up my mind that I might have found
a worse home than the old farm-house at Uncle Nathan's. Aunt Lucinda was
not positively unkind to me, but I could not help a feeling of fear when
in her presence, for she evidently regarded my every movement with a
watchful eye, and looked upon my presence in the family as an infliction
that must be borne; but with all this she was very careful for my
comfort, and treated me in every respect as one of the family. Few
would, at first sight, receive a favourable impression of my aunt.