That night they sat late be-side their blaz-ing hearth: a-midst the
smoke might now be seen a large well-filled pot bub-bling with
some-thing more than wa-ter in it.

How much Wil-lie had to tell his mo-ther of his la-bour, and what he
ow-ed to the won-der-ful gi-ant hands, pre-serv-ing him through all
dan-gers, and e-ver yield-ing him as-sist-ance!

Wil-lie's mo-ther smi-led up-on him, as he con-clu-ded his nar-ra-tive,
with a kiss.

"Dear child," said she, "you have been in-deed for-tu-nate; but you were
de-serv-ing. That which ap-pears to you as a mi-ra-cle is none. Those
gi-ant hands have been known to ma-ny: their pow-er is e-nor-mous; they
al-ways as-sist the will-ing and the good; the re-ward they be-stow is
cer-tain; they are the pow-er-ful _hands of In-dus-try._


THE END.






ROUTLEDGE'S EVERLASTING BOOKS,

PRINTED ON CLOTH.