spoken of his "little 'uns"--came and looked steadily in John's face.

"I knew thee as a lad; thee'rt a young man now, as will be a father
some o' these days. Oh! Mr. Halifax, may'ee ne'er want a meal o'
good meat for the missus and the babbies at home, if ee'll get a bit
o' bread for our'n this day."

"My man, I'll try."

He called me aside, explained to me, and asked my advice and consent,
as Abel Fletcher's son, to a plan that had come into his mind. It
was to write orders, which each man presenting at our mill, should
receive a certain amount of flour.

"Do you think your father would agree?"

"I think he would."

"Yes," John added, pondering--"I am sure he would. And besides, if
he does not give some, he may lose all. But he would not do it for
fear of that. No, he is a just man--I am not afraid. Give me some
paper, Jael."

He sat down as composedly as if he had been alone in the
counting-house, and wrote. I looked over his shoulder, admiring his
clear, firm hand-writing; the precision, concentrativeness, and
quickness, with which he first seemed to arrange and then execute his
ideas. He possessed to the full that "business" faculty, so
frequently despised, but which, out of very ordinary material, often
makes a clever man; and without which the cleverest man alive can