too, that Mr. Walters might be
induced to give up the boy; the physician who had attended him in his
severe sickness had declared the stooping posture and confinement of
the shop very injurious to him,--that his constitution was by no means
strong, and that he would never be of robust health. Thomas, delighted
that our hero had found a friend like Mr. Stewart, spoke fully on the
merits of his character, and the discomforts of his situation, and the
great danger he was in from evil companionship. This last feature of
the case had more weight with Mr. Stewart than all the rest. He knew
that perseverance under untoward difficulties often accomplished great
things in bringing out strong points of character; that no position in
life, however humble, is an actual bar to intellectual and moral
improvement; and that where there is a _will_, there is always a
_way_. And he knew, too, that the "eye of the Lord is upon them that
fear him, that his ears are open to their cry, and that he is able to
succour them, being tempted;" and, therefore, he pondered the matter
well in his own heart, and consulted often with his father on the
expediency of removing William from the guardianship of Mr. Walters.

A conversation with that worthy at last decided the matter. "Bill will
never make much of a shoemaker," said he; "the doctor is of opinion
that stooping will bring on consumption, and I see he gets very pale
if he works steadily. He'll never be of much use to me, now that he is
getting too old to be an errand boy; and as just at this time I have a
chance of getting a stouter boy for a ''prentice,' you can make what
you please of him, if you pay me something for his time."

The bargain was soon concluded; and William, who, kept in happy
ignorance of what was going forward, had suffered no anxiety, was
amazed beyond the power of language to describe when he was told that
he must give up shoemaking for the present, and be the protege of Mr.
Stewart, and take time to recruit his health.

Mr. Stewart said not a word about his becoming a painter; he knew too
well how often taste is mistaken for genius, and how many fail of
reaching the high standard proposed by themselves at first setting
out. Nor, much interested as he was, that interest increasing every
day, in our hero, did he at once take him into his own family, as, if
we were writing a romance, we might imagine him to have done; no, he
resolved to try and test his capacities for some