mpanion continuing her promenade. As if
without hoping to find anything there, she moved the brick aside with
her foot; perceiving the letter, she snatched it up eagerly, and
concealed it in her dress, and then cast her eyes on the river. It was
calm, and I whistled the bar of music. She heard it, and turning away,
hastened into the house. In about half-an-hour she returned, and
watching her opportunity, stooped down to the brick. I waited a few
minutes, when both she and her companion went into the house. I then
pulled in under the wall, lifted up the brick, took the letter, and
hastened back to Fulham; when I delivered the letter to the servant, who
rode off with it as fast as he could; and I returned home quite pleased
at the successful issue of my attempt, and not a little curious to learn
the real facts of this extraordinary affair.

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE.

THE DOMINIE READS ME A SERMON OUT OF THE LARGEST BOOK I EVER FELL IN
WITH, COVERING NEARLY TWO ACRES OF GROUND--THE PAGES NOT VERY EASY TO
TURN OVER, BUT THE TYPE VERY CONVENIENT TO READ WITHOUT SPECTACLES--HE
LEAVES OFF WITHOUT SHUTTING HIS BOOK, AS PARSONS USUALLY DO AT THE END
OF THEIR SERMONS.

The next day being Sunday, as usual I went to see the Dominie and Mr
Turnbull. I arrived at the school just as all the boys were filing off,
two and two, for church, the advance led by the usher, and the rear
brought up by the Dominie in person, and I accompanied them. The
Dominie appeared melancholy and out of spirits--hardly exchanging a word
with me during our walk. When the service was over he ordered the usher
to take the boys home, and remained with me in the churchyard, surveying
the tombstones, and occasionally muttering to himself. At last the
congregation dispersed, and we were alone.

"Little did I think, Jacob," said he, at last, "that when I bestowed
such care upon thee in thy childhood, I should be rewarded as I have
been! Little did I think that it would be to the boy who was left
destitute that I should pour out my soul when afflicted, and find in him
that sympathy which I have long lost, by the removal of those who were
once my friends! Yes, Jacob, those who were known to me in my youth--
those few in whom I confided and leant upon--are now lying here in
crumbling dust, and the generation hath passed away; and I now rest upon
thee, my son, whom I have directed in the right path, and who hast, by
the blessing of God, continued to walk