rthful-looking, fair-haired
girl, about seven years old, carrying a doll nearly as large as
herself in her arms, looked from the window, and seeing our poor hero,
burst into a loud fit of laughter, for which he could not account.
Although anxious to know the cause, he was too bashful to ask the
reason, and as she retreated almost immediately, he, after waiting a
few minutes in hopes the gentleman would re-appear, was compelled to
retrace the way which led to his cheerless home.

"What have you been doing, you idle scamp?" exclaimed Mr. Walters, as
he entered; "have you been fighting with street-boys, or wrestling
with chimney-sweeps? Look at yourself, what a figure you make with all
the mud of the street on your face!" and pushing him before a small
looking-glass that hung in the shop, bade him account for the
"condition of this beautiful visage."

The poor boy had dried his tears with the same corner of his blouse
with which he had wiped the gutter-soiled shoes, and had thus
transferred the black mud to his face; and as he surveyed his changed
countenance in the glass, he recollected, and was at no loss to
account for the little maiden's burst of laughter. Forgetting that his
stern master stood beside him, and the bitter tears he had so lately
shed, with that buoyancy of spirit which is the peculiar property of
childhood, and surmounts all rules, he laughed aloud until recalled to
his usual gravity by some blows on his shoulders from his master's
heavy hand. "How dare you laugh so impertinently in my presence?" he
asked, while administering the remedy of the strap, which he
considered a specific for all misdemeanours; and now not only stopped
the poor boy's laughing, but caused him to tremble under the
undeserved punishment.

"Where is the money for the shoes?" he thundered forth, when he found
time to speak.

William handed it to him, and detailed the whole circumstance, not
concealing that the gentleman had given him a shilling for himself.

"Give it here," said Mr. Walters; "boys like you, who have everything
found them, have no need of money; it only serves to lead them into
mischief;" and taking up his hat, and bidding his wife have supper in
half an hour, he left the shop.

"Bill Raymond, you are one of the grandest of donkey-headed fools I
ever saw in my life," said Jem Taylor, as soon as they were alone,
after examining that the door leading to the kitchen was shut. "Why
did you give him the shilling, w