is wife was well fitted to be the life
partner of such a parsimonious person.

They had no children of their own, and had felt the need for years of a
willing, nimble-footed youngster to do the odd chores about the house,
such as milking cows, cutting and bringing in wood, running of errands,
and the scores of odd little jobs which are easy enough for boys, but
sorely try the stiff and rheumatic limbs of a man in the decline of
life.

Bush was a healthy little fellow--not very strong for his years, but
quick of movement, bright-witted, willing, and naturally a general
favorite. The misfortunes which suddenly overtook his home roused the
keenest sympathy of his neighbors. His father was a merchant in New
York, who went to and from the metropolis each week day morning and
evening, to his pleasant little home in New Jersey. One day his
lifeless body was brought thither, and woe and desolation came to the
happy home. He was killed in a railway accident.

The blow was a terrible one, and for weeks it seemed as if his stricken
widow would follow him across the dark river; but her Christian
fortitude and her great love for their only child sustained her in her
awful grief, and she was even able to thank her Heavenly Father that
her dear boy was spared to her.

But how true it is that misfortunes rarely come singly. Her husband
had amassed a competency sufficient to provide comfortably for those
left behind; but his confidence in his fellow-men was wofully betrayed.
He was one of the bondsmen of a public official who made a hasty
departure to Canada, one evening, leaving his business in such a shape
that his securities were compelled to pay fifty thousand dollars. Two
others were associated with Mr. Wyckoff, and with the aid of their
tricky lawyers they managed matters so that four-fifths of the loss
fell upon the estate of the deceased merchant.

The result swept it away as utterly as were the dwellings in the
Johnstown Valley by the great flood. The widow and her boy left their
home and moved into a little cottage, with barely enough left to keep
the wolf of starvation from the door.

It was then that Bush showed the stuff of which he was made. He
returned one afternoon and told his mother, in his off-hand way, that
he had engaged to work through the summer months for Mr. Ashton, who
not only agreed to pay him six dollars a month, but would allow him to
remain at home over night, provided, of course, that he wa