Mr. Kilbright became more and more useful to me, particularly after he
had disciplined his mind to the new style of spelling. And when he had
been with me about a month I insisted that he should take a holiday and
visit Bixbury, for I knew that to do this was the great desire of his
heart. He could easily reach his native place by rail, but believing
that he would rather not go at all than travel on a train, I procured a
saddle-horse for him, and when I had given him full directions as to the
roads, he set out.

In four days he returned. "How did you find Bixbury?" I asked of him.

"There is no longer such a place," he answered, sadly. "I found a town
of that name, but it is not the Bixbury in which I was born. That has
utterly disappeared."

And, after this, he never again alluded to his native place.

The high character and many admirable qualities of this man daily
increased the affectionate regard and esteem in which he was held by my
wife and myself; and feeling that we could do nothing better for him
than to endeavor to make him forget the things of the past, and take a
lively and earnest interest in those of the present, we set ourselves to
work upon this task. In a great degree our efforts were successful, and
we soon perceived that Mr. Kilbright cared more and more for what he saw
about him. It was, indeed, natural that he should do this, for he was
still a young man, and able to adapt himself to changes in his
surroundings.

As I have said, he gradually did so adapt himself, and in the course of