of intolerable disgust came over the boy's face--"I don't intend to
try that again. I was never used to it. Better keep my own company
and the open air. Now you see."

"Oh, John!"

"Nay--there's no need to be sorry. You don't know how comfortable it
is to sleep out of doors; and so nice to wake in the middle of the
night and see the stars shining over your head."

"But isn't it very cold?"

"No--not often. I scoop out a snug little nest in the bark and curl
up in it like a dormouse, wrapped in this rug, which one of the men
gave me. Besides, every morning early I take a plunge and a swim in
the stream, and that makes me warm all day."

I shivered--I who feared the touch of cold water. Yet there with all
his hardships, he stood before me, the model of healthy boyhood.
Alas! I envied him.

But this trying life, which he made so light of, could not go on.
"What shall you do when winter comes?"

John looked grave. "I don't know: I suppose I shall manage somehow-
-like the sparrows," he answered, perceiving not how apposite his
illustration was. For truly he seemed as destitute as the birds of
the air, whom ONE feedeth, when they cry to Him.

My question had evidently made him thoughtful; he remained silent a