r?' On the morning when he
was to die, as he was being led from the inn, his father sprang forward
in an agony of grief, and threw his arms round him, saying, `God be with
thee, son William.' His son looked calmly at him and said, `God be with
you, father. Be of good comfort; I trust we shall soon meet again where
we shall rejoice together.' When he had been secured to the stake, a
pardon was offered him if he would recant. `No,' he said, `I will not
recant, God willing.' When the fire was lighted, and the flames began
to rise, he threw a book of Psalms, which he still held in his hands,
into the hands of his brother, who had followed him to the place of
death. Then his brother called to him and said, `William, think on the
sufferings of Christ, and be not afraid.'--`I am not afraid,' cried the
young martyr. `Lord, Lord, receive my spirit.' These were his last
words. The dry fagots burned briskly, and in a few minutes his
sufferings were at an end for ever.

"Here, surely, dear Walter, was moral courage of the highest order.
William Hunter was very young; life was sweet; he had loving parents.
All the neighbours loved him for his gentle piety. A few words spoken
would have saved him from imprisonment, hunger, bitter suffering, and a
cruel death; but he would not by a single act or a single word save
himself, when by so doing he would be acting against his conscience,
much as he loved his home, his parents, and his people."

Walter clapped his hands with delight when his aunt had finished, and
exclaimed, "Nothing could be better, Aunt Kate; it suits our hero Amos
to a T. Yes, for he would suffer anything rather than get his liberty
by doing or promising to do what he believed to be wrong. Thank you,
dear aunt; I have learned a lesson which I hope I shall never forget."

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

WALTER TO THE RESCUE.

The day after his return home Amos sought his father in the library.
Mr Huntingdon's manner to him had become so much more warm and
affectionate, that he now ventured on a course which a few days before
he could not have brought himself to adopt.

"Father," he said, "can you spare me a few minutes? I have something on
my mind which I feel that I ought to consult you about."

"Sit down, sit down, my dear boy; what is it?" said his father.

Thus encouraged, Amos unburdened his mind. "Father," he proceeded, "I
must ask you to excuse my absence for a day or two, or perhaps even
more. You ar