it was many shades darker, and
his hair stood stiffly about his head, in matted portions, looking
as if a comb had not touched it for weeks. One would hardly have
imagined that so great a change could have passed upon a boy in a
few weeks as had passed over him. When he left his mother's humble
abode, there was something about him that instantly attracted the
eye of almost any one who looked at him attentively, and won for him
favorable impressions. His skin was pure and white, and his mild
blue eyes, with their expression of innocent confidence, looked
every one in the face openly. Now there was something repulsive to
almost every one about the dirty boy, who went moping about with
soiled face and hands, a cowed look, and shrinking gait. Scarcely
any one seemed to feel a particle of sympathy for him, either in or
out of the house where he dwelt.

Time passed on, and New Year's day rapidly approached, the anxiously
longed-for time, to which Henry had never ceased to look forward
since he left his mother's presence. Every passing day seemed to
render his condition more and more uncomfortable. The air grew
colder and colder, and the snow lay all around to the depth of many
inches. A suit of cloth clothes had been "cooked up" for him out of
an old coat and trowsers that had long since been worn threadbare by
Mr. Sharp. Thin though they were, they yet afforded a most
comfortable substitute for those their welcome appearance had caused
him to throw aside. But the pair of shoes he had worn when he left
Boston were still considered good enough, if thought of at all,
notwithstanding they gaped largely at the toes, and had been worn so
thin in the soles that scarcely the thickness of a knife-blade lay
between his feet and the snow-covered ground. In regard to sleeping,
he was not much better off. His bed was of straw, upon the floor, in
a large unplastered garret, and but scantily supplied with covering.
Here he would creep away alone in the dark every night, on being
driven away to bed from crouching beside the warm kitchen fire after
his daily toil was done, and get under the thin covering with all
his clothes on. There he would lie, all drawn up into a heap to keep
warm, and think of his mother, and long for New Year's day to come,
until sleep would lock up his senses in unconsciousness.

At last it was New Year's eve, but the poor child had heard no word
about going home. He could sleep but little through that night for