got up to go after her. So poor
Lawry could not be of much use, even looking after his idiot sister. He
used to hope that he might some day get better, and go to work again in
the mine, as a trapper, at all events, which did not require much
strength. But the doctor told him that he must not think of it; that
the coal-dust and bad air would hurt his lungs, and that he would very
soon die if he did. If he ever got strong, he must find work above
ground.

The Kempsons were decent people, their neighbours could say that of
them, but they were not God-fearing and God-loving,--they had no family
prayers, no Bible was ever read in their house, and they seldom or never
went to a place of worship; to be sure, the nearest was some way off,
and that was their excuse--it was hard, if they did, to get back to
dinner, at least to a hot dinner, and that is what they always liked to
have on Sundays. Such was little Dick's family.

He therefore knew very little about God, or God's love to man through
Jesus Christ. How should he? He had nothing pleasant to think of as to
what was past nor what was to come. He knew nothing of heaven--of a
future life where all sin and sorrow, and pain and suffering is to be
done away--of its glories, of its joy, its wonders. All he knew was
that he had sat there in that dark corner trapping for many, many weary
hours, and that he should have to sit there many more till he was big
enough to become a putter. Then he should have to fill corves with
coal, and push them along the tramways for some years more till he got
to be a hewer like his father. He only hoped that he might have to hew
in seams not less than five feet thick--not in three feet or less, as
some men had to do, obliged to crawl into their work on hands and knees,
and crawl out again, and to work all day lying down or sitting. But
they had light though--that was pleasant; they could move about, and
worked only eight hours. He had to work in the dark for twelve hours,
and dared not move, so he thought that he should change for the better,
that is to say, when he thought at all, which was not often. Generally
he sat, only wishing that it was "kenner" time, that he might go home to
supper and bed. The name is given, because, when the time for work is
over, the banksman at the mouth of the pit cries out, "Kenner, kenner."

Dick did not get much play, even in summer. In the winter he never saw
daylight, except on Sundays. When h