er disappoint Miss Ellen for one night, than to bring a
whole lifetime of trouble upon her. Don't be foolhardy, now; your horse
can't carry you safely over Willow's Creek this night."

"Never fear, farmer," said William. "I can take care of myself."

"May the Lord take care of you," said the farmer, as he followed the youth,
dashing through the town on his spirited horse. "If it were not for this
wagon-load, and there are so many to be clothed and fed at home, I would
follow you, but I can't do it."

William rode rapidly homeward. The noonday being long passed, the skies
were clouding over, and harsh spring winds were playing through the woods.

William enjoyed such rides. Healthy, and fearing nothing, he was a stranger
to a feeling of loneliness. Alternately singing an old air, and then
whistling with notes as clear and musical as a flute, he at last came in
sight of the creek which had been so tranquil when he crossed it in the
morning. There was an old house near, where lived the people who received
the toll. A man and his wife, with a large family of children, poor
people's inheritance, had long made this place their home, and they were
acquainted with all the persons who were in the habit of traveling this
way.

William, whom they saw almost daily, was a great favorite with the
children. Not only did he pay his toll, but many a penny and sixpence to
the small folks besides, and he was accustomed to receive a welcome.

Now the house was shut up. It had rained frequently and heavily during the
month, and the bright morning, which had tempted the children out to play,
was gone, and they had gathered in the old house to amuse themselves as
they could.

The bridge had been partly carried away by the freshet. Some of the beams
were still swinging and swaying themselves with restless motion. The creek
was swollen to a torrent. The waters dashed against its sides, in their
haste to go their way. The wind, too, howled mournfully, and the old trees
bent to and fro, nodding their stately heads, and rustling their branches
against each other.

"Oh, Mr. William, is it you?" said the woman, opening the door. "Get off
your horse, and come in and rest; you can't go home to-night."

"Yes, I can though," said William, "I have often forded the creek, and
though I never saw it as it is now, yet I can get safely over it, I am
sure."

"Don't talk of such things, for the Lord's sake," said Mrs. Jones. "Why, my
husband could no