s at least a respectable
one, and would furnish a livelihood. There were times when, looking
into the intelligent blue eyes that would be lifted up so lovingly to
meet his gaze, he would wish that he might be able to educate his boy;
but almost at once he would conquer the longing, and say to himself:
"It is God who appoints to every man his station, and I must not
murmur because my child's lot is destined to be a lowly one. There is
danger in high places, and I ought rather to rejoice that our poverty
removes him far from the temptation he would meet with in a more
exalted station."

One evening, it was a dull and cloudy one near the close of December,
George Raymond came home seeming more than ordinarily cheerful,
greatly to the delight of his good Margaret, who did not like to see
him too thoughtful. "Times seem to grow better, wife," he said, after
he finished his supper; "I have had plenty of work at seal engraving
this last fortnight; it seems my work has been approved in the city."

"We have always had enough for the supply of our daily wants,"
answered Margaret; "and we are told not to be too anxious about the
goods of this world."

"I am not very anxious," said Raymond; "at least not on my own
account; but sometimes I think if I should be called away, what would
become of you, Gretta, and little Will?"

"The Lord would provide for us, George, as he has ever done," was the
wife's reply; "he is ever faithful to his promise, and he has declared
that those who wait on him shall not want for any good thing."

"That is very true, Margaret; but we must use lawful means to provide
bread for our families," said Raymond; "but where is Will? I have not
seen him since I came in; neither did he come to meet me as usual."

"I am here, father," said a sweet childish voice; and creeping from a
dark corner between the cupboard and the wall, a little boy came forth
and stood at his father's knee, and, without speaking, looked up into
his face with an expression of more than ordinary meaning. Slight and
delicately made, he was easily raised to his usual seat on his
father's knee, when, kissing him affectionately, he inquired, "What
have you been doing all day, Will? I believe you have had no school."

"Wait, father, and I will show you," replied the boy, as he slid down
from his father's knee; and running to the corner from whence he had
come at Raymond's call, he returned almost immediately with two or
three half-sheets