out of twenty-two
shillings a week, there was next to nothing to put by. They had, too, a
number of children, and some of them were heavy burdens, and were likely
to remain so. The eldest boy, Jack, had had a fancy for the sea, and he
had gone away when quite a little chap with a captain who had taken a
liking to him, and the vessel had never more been heard of. That was
before they left their old home in the country and came to live at the
coal-pits. Poor Susan often thought of her lost boy, with his laughing
blue eyes, and his light hair curling over his fair brow, just as he was
when he went away. Mothers are apt to think of their lost young ones.
It is well if a parent can feel sure that her child is with God in
heaven, that she can say, "I taught it early to love Jesus; I know that
he trusted in His cleansing blood, in His all-sufficient sacrifice on
the cross."

Poor Susan had not that thought to comfort her, but still it did not
trouble her. She mourned her lost boy like a loving mother, but not so
much for his sake as because she wished again to fold him in her arms,
and press once more a kiss on his cheeks.

Her next boy, Ben, worked with his father in the pit, as a putter. He
was a rough, wildish lad--not worse than his companions, but that was
not saying much for him, and it seemed but too likely that he would give
his parents trouble.

The third boy, Lawrence, was a helpless cripple. He had been hurt in
the mine three years before, and it seemed likely he would never walk
again. He went by the name of Limping Lawry among the people in the
village of Wallford. I was going to say companions--but he had not many
companions, for he could not move about without pain. Only on a
summer's day he limped out and sat on a bench against the front wall of
the cottage. He was a pale-faced lad, with large blue eyes and a broad
forehead, and did not look as if he could be long for this world; yet he
lived on while others seemingly stronger were taken away.

Then there was Nelly. Once she was a bright little thing, but she had
fallen on her head, and though she did not seem much hurt at first, she
became half-witted, and was now an idiot. As she grew older she was
sometimes inclined to be mischievous. Lawry might have watched over
her, but she was so active and quick that she could easily get away from
him. She knew well that it hurt him to move, so she kept her eye on
him, and was off like a shot when he