e will soon find that he too has to come to a
standstill. Yes, young or old, rich or poor, must all help each other.
Once there came on earth a great Person, great though poor, a
carpenter's son. He only stayed a short time, but all that time He went
about doing good to men, helping His fellows; and He died that He might
help all men still more, and in a way no other person could have helped
them. He came to die, because all men have sinned. He came also to
show men how to live--how to act one towards another.

Mark Page, the Miller of Hillbrook, owned a wind-mill on the top of a
knoll just above the village. His house and sheds for his carts and
horses stood below it, and round it were some fields which were his; so
it will be seen that he was well to do in the world. He had a wife and
a son and a daughter, and he ought to have been a happy man; but he was
not. Things seemed never to go quite right with Mark. Either there was
too much wind, or too little wind. If there was little wind he was sure
to cry out for more, but once; and then he would have given his mill and
his house and fields to have got the wind not to blow. About that I
will tell by-and-by.

Sometimes the miller sang--

"When the wind blows,
Then the mill goes:
When the wind drops,
Then the mill stops."

But he was wont to growl out, "The wind is sure to drop when I have most
grist to grind--just to spite me."

Hillbrook was a nice spot. There was the brook which ran out of the
hill, fresh and pure, right through the village. There was not water
enough to turn a mill, but enough to give the people right good water to
drink and to cook with. It is a sad thing not to have good water. Bad
water, from ponds, or ditches, or wells near drains, makes many people
ill, and kills not a few. The people of Hillbrook prized their good
water. They said, "we have good water and pure air, and now what we
have to do is to keep our cottages clean and we shall be well." They
did keep the floors and the walls of their cottages clean, but somehow
fevers still came. At times, when the sun was hot, many people were
ill: no one could tell how it was.

There was a farm to let, called Hillside farm. No one would take it,
for it was said that the land was cold and wet, and too open. At last
one Farmer Grey came to see it. The rent was low, the terms fair; "I'll
take it on a long lease," he said; "and if God wills it, ere many years
go by, it w