ity with any one. The tailor, next door,
could come but seldom, as he was always busy; but the watchman of that
district, who lived but a few doors distant, and whose wife sold Mrs.
Walters milk, came more frequently than the tailor, and as he was a
conversable man and understood politics, Walters was rather glad of
his coming than otherwise. Will was generally sent for the milk, and
his pale face and dejected look awakened the sympathies of this honest
and God-fearing couple. They soon learned that he was an orphan, and
Thomas Burton, the good watchman, having noticed the harsh treatment
he received, and not at all ignorant of Jem Taylor's character, and
the danger he was in of being led astray, determined to watch over
him, and, if possible, prevent his being ruined. He therefore
encouraged him in every way he could, and the gleams of sunlight his
kindness and sympathy shed on the dark path of the orphan boy, showed
that he was no stranger to that "charity" which, taught by the gospel,
"never faileth," and is "kind."

After the first temptation to falsehood, William had avoided Jem
Taylor as much as possible; but now, in consequence of his "consenting
to be enticed to sin," he rather shunned the good Burtons, and took
more pleasure in listening to the slang of the shop than in his own
thoughts. He suffered his mind to dwell on the advice given him in
relation to the price of the shoes and the shilling, and grieved over
the loss of both, until he no longer considered that keeping the price
of the shoes would have been a dishonest act. He began to be of Jem's
opinion, that he had shown himself a blockhead, and resolved to act
differently in future. "But, indeed, I would have liked to thank that
good old gentleman," said he to himself; "although I was none the
better for the money. It is a pity he does not know that Mr. Walters
took it all; but I will try not to think any more about it. I know now
what I will do," he cried, as a sudden thought struck him; "that
little girl with the large doll must be his daughter, so I will make a
pair of little shoes for the waxen lady."

William carried his purpose into execution. In the evening, when the
working hours were over, he gathered up some scraps of red morocco
which had been thrown aside as useless, and carried them up to the
attic where he slept, so that as soon as daylight appeared he might
begin his work. This he did, and had cut out and nearly half made a
pair of doll'