n about them; but papa, he
thought, could have done it, and _would_ have done it, had he lived
here as long as Uncle Richard. He remembered a little sea-town, where
they had lived before dwelling in Hastings, how wretched and dirty and
ignorant the fishermen were, and what a great change for the better
came over the place through his father's efforts.

But now papa was gone, and Uncle Richard? The man was so much of a
mystery to Noll, as yet, that he did not know whether there were any
hopes of his setting himself to the task of lifting the Culm people
out of their slough of wretchedness; but he hoped that his uncle would
see and realize what needed to be done before another year had worn
away. And if he did not? Why, then they would have to go on in their
old way, he thought. He wished that he might do something toward the
work; but, then, how could he? He had no money, and no means of
getting any, and he was not fifteen.

Noll put away, or tried to do so, all thoughts of the Culm people and
their life, and went to writing the note which Skipper Ben was to
carry to Mr. Gray on his return to Hastings. When it was finished, he
unlocked his trunk, took a look at the thumbed, worn little Bible
which had been mamma's; at the familiar covers of his school-books,
which brought up a hundred visions of pleasant, happy hours in the
great, buzzing schoolroom,--wondered if he should ever know such
joyful moments again,--it seemed quite an impossibility, now,--and
took up, one by one, the keepsakes and knick-knacks which his boy
friends had given him on his departure. There was the new ball which
Sam Scott had given him,--how Sam _did_ love ball-playing!--and which
was now not of the least possible use to him. There was a great bundle
of fish-hooks which Archie Phillips had bestowed upon him, more in fun
than in earnest, but which Noll had treasured because Archie was his
seat-mate. Then there were all sorts of relics and mementos, such as
boys set their hearts upon,--bits of carved wood, favorite drawing
pencils, a purple amethyst, which Johnny Moore, whose father had been
in India, had given him, and, best of all, there was Ned Thorn's dear,
merry face beaming upon him from out the little ebony frame in which
Ned's own hands had placed it the night before his departure.

Looking at this face, and gazing upon these mementos of his friends,
did not serve to make Noll at all more contented with Culm Rock and
the prospect be