with newspaper; but
through the glass panes that were left, in full glory streamed the
sun, and in the midst of the blaze stood a pot of musk in full bloom.
The soft yellow flowers looked so grand, and smelled so sweet, that I
was lost in admiration, till I found the sick man's black eyes fixed
on mine.

"You are looking at my bit of green, master?" he said, in a gratified
tone.

"Do you like flowers?" I inquired, coming shyly up to the bed.

"Do I like 'em?" he exclaimed in a low voice. "Ay, I love 'em well
enough--well enough," and he looked fondly at the plant, "though it's
long since I saw any but these."

"You have not been in the country for a long time?" I inquired,
compassionately. I felt sad to think that he had perhaps lain there
for months, without a taste of fresh air or a run in the fields; but I
was _not_ prepared for his answer.

"_I never was in the country, young gentleman._"

I looked at my father.

"Yes," he said, in answer to my glance, "it is quite true. William was
born here. He got hurt when a boy, and has been lame ever since. For
some years he has been entirely confined to the house. He was never
out of town, and never saw a green field."

Never out of the town! confined to the house for years! and what a
house! The tears rushed to my eyes, and I felt that angry heart-ache
which the sight of suffering produces in those who are too young to be
insensible to it, and too ignorant of GOD's Providence to
submit with "quietness and confidence" to His will.

"My son can hardly believe it, William."

"It is such a shame," I said; "it is horrible. I am very sorry for
you."

The black eyes turned kindly upon me, and the sick man said, "Thank
you heartily, Sir. You mean very kindly. I used to say the same sort
of things myself, when I was younger, and knew no better. I used to
think it was very hard, and that no one was so miserable as I was. But
I know now how much better off I am than most folks, and how many
things I have to be thankful for."

I looked round the room, and began involuntarily to count the
furniture--one, two, three. The "many things" were certainly not
chairs and tables.

But he was gazing before him, and went on: "I often think how thankful
I ought to be to die in peace, and have a quiet room to myself. There
was a girl in a consumption on the floor below me; and she used to sit
and cough, while her father and mother quarrelled so that I could hear
them through the fl