to encounter. In fact, to pass
through a fiery furnace! And how very few are they, that come forth,
unscarred, and purified!

"Remembering this, I exclaim, 'How was I saved?' And then my heart,
almost bursting with gratitude, forces the words to my lips--by God's
mercy alone!

"Taking with him a few favorite books--a change of linen--he bade
adieu to the home so laden with bitter memories.

"A day's weary travel brought him to the city of L----. Here, for many
days, until the autumn came on, he managed to subsist--doing little
chores, carrying a carpet-bag or bundle--earning enough to sustain
life merely, and sleeping in the depot or market-house.

"At length the cold days and colder nights came on; work was very hard
to find, and our poor boy's fortitude was severely tried.

"The day of his trial, his direst temptation, came! For twenty-four
hours he had not tasted food. A cold, bleak night was fast
approaching. One after another of his books had gone to get a piece of
bread. Now nothing was left but starvation or--the boy dare hardly
breathe it to himself--or dishonesty!

"He must have food somehow. Loitering about the depot, watching a
chance to earn a few pennies, he saw a gentleman alight from a
carriage, take out his pocketbook, pay the driver, and return it, as
he supposed, to his pocket.

"It was almost dark, yet the eager eye of the hungry boy saw what had
escaped the driver's.

"There, in that gutter, lay the surety against suffering for that and
many coming nights.

"He was about to rush forward and secure the prize--the lost
pocketbook--but caution whispered, 'Be sharp! you may be seen.' And
then, with the cunning and slyness of an old thief--thus suddenly
taught by keen suffering--he sauntered along, crossing the gutter,
stumbled and fell; then put out his hand, covered and secured his
treasure, slowly arose, and feigning a slight lameness, he retraced
his steps towards the depot, entered the waiting-room, which he felt
sure would be unoccupied at that hour. Getting behind the warm stove
and close to the dim lamp, he opened the pocketbook--gold! notes!
tens, twenties! over a hundred dollars met his gaze! When had he seen
so much? His--all his! Had he not found it? Possibly he might have
overtaken the owner and restored it, but what was the use of throwing
away good luck! But already Conscience was at work. Turning over the
notes he found a little silken bag. Opening it, he drew forth a
miniatu