the
most per-fect bridge im-a-gin-a-ble. He drove the sheep a-cross with-out
fear, and reach-ed his mas-ter's house in safe-ty, much to the joy of
all, who had giv-en him up for lost.

[Illustration: THE ESCAPE FROM THE FIRE.]

As Wil-lie lay down that night, full of gra-ti-tude for his great good
for-tune, and think-ing of his home, to which he knew he should so soon
re-turn to take hap-pi-ness to his fond mo-ther, he was sud-den-ly
a-rous-ed by screams of ter-ror and cries of a-larm. He jump-ed from his
bed, and put-ting on his clothes, rush-ed in-to the farm-yard, where, to
his hor-ror, he be-held his good mas-ter wring-ing his hands, and
a-ban-don-ed to grief; for the flames were fast de-vour-ing his
peace-ful house, and, worse than all, they had reach-ed the cham-ber of
his fa-vour-ite daugh-ter, whom he had in vain at-tempt-ed to res-cue,
for no lad-der could reach her win-dow, and the stair-case had long been
burnt. Wil-lie look-ed on in des-pair, for he could de-vise no means to
save the poor child; when sud-den-ly the gi-ant hands ap-pear-ed, and
plac-ing them-selves a-gainst the side of the house, form-ed a lad-der,
up which Wil-lie sprang with-out the least he-si-ta-tion. In a few
mo-ments he gain-ed the suf-fo-cat-ing cham-ber of the girl, and
fold-ing her in his arms, rush-ed down the friend-ly hands, and pla-ced
her, unharm-ed, in the em-brace of her des-pair-ing fa-ther.

* * * * *

A hea-vi-ly la-den wag-gon creaks along the wind-ing road, co-ver-ed
with a tilt as white as snow; but what has it in-side? You can peep and
see: beau-ti-ful ta-bles and chairs, and sides of ba-con, and geese and
chick-ens, and fair round chees-es, and rolls of gold-en but-ter, with
white eggs peep-ing through the bars of their wick-er pris-on. Where is
the wag-gon go-ing? To mar-ket, per-haps: ask the youth who is trudg-ing
by its side, with a smil-ing, hap-py face, rud-dy with health and the
warm tinge of the sun.

[Illustration: THE TRIUMPHANT RETURN.]

Why, I de-clare that it is Wil-lie, grown quite stout and strong! Where
is he go-ing with that well-stored wag-gon, which real-ly has no hor-ses
to draw it, and yet it goes for-ward at a pret-ty pace? Why, I do
be-lieve that the gi-ant hands are drag-ging it along!

It is Wil-lie, in-deed; and, joy-ous mo-ment! he is go-ing home. In his
pock-et he has much bright sil-ver, the pro-duce of his la-bour: the
con-tents of the wag-gon shows t