-hand," as he called it; but one unlucky night it caught
on fire, and burned up all his coats, and trousers, and jackets, and
all the stuff he had laid in to make them of; and then his wife was
taken sick; and, what with doctoring, and one trouble and another,
although poor Tom was honest, temperate and industrious, he came down
to that poor, miserable little room, after all.

But Tom was not a man to whine about his bad luck. No; he looked at
that new baby, and made his fingers fly faster than ever, and wore a
cheerful smile for his sick wife, beside. That's why I called him "a
hero;" for, Charley, anybody can be courageous and endure a great deal
when all the world are looking on and clapping their hands, and
admiring them; but it is another thing, in an obscure corner, without
food, without friends, without hope, to struggle--struggle--struggle
on, fighting off Temptation, fighting off grim Want, day after day,
with none to say, "God speed you."

That's why I said the poor tailor had a good, _brave_ heart; that's why
I honored him; that's why I prayed God a brighter day might dawn for
him.

Did it? Yes! I tell you, Charley, _never despair!_ no matter how dark
the cloud is overhead, work on, and look up; the sun will shine
through, by and by;--it did for poor Tom.

One day a gentleman called to see him, and asked him to go with him and
look at some cloth for making jackets. Tom thought it was very odd;--he
didn't remember that anybody ever asked his opinion before;--he didn't
know what to make of it. However, he dropped his shears, pulled off his
cotton cap, kissed his little baby, and followed the gentleman.

They went along through a great many streets, till they came to the
business part of the town. The gentleman opened the door of a small
shop, and Tom followed him in. There were cloths of all kinds on the
shelves, and the gentleman took some down and asked Tom if they were
the right sort for such jackets as he had been making; and Tom said it
was "prime cloth."

And then the gentleman showed him a little room, divided off at the end
of the shop, and asked Tom if it was light enough to work in, and Tom
said it could not be better; and then the gentleman clapped him on the
shoulder, and told him to go to work in it as soon as he pleased, for
these were his goods, and that was his shop!

Poor Tom looked as if he were dreaming. He tried to speak two or three
times, but failed. Then, great tears dropped over