me good," replied the stranger as he rose to go.

"Bess, dear, will you bring me a cup of water?" Jamie said; and as
she hastened away, he beckoned his friend nearer, saying with a
timid wistful look,--

"Forgive me, if it's wrong, but I wish you would let me give you
this; it's very little, but it may help some; and I think you'll
take it to please 'poor Jamie.' Won't you, sir?" and as he spoke,
the child offered a bright coin, the proceeds of his work.

Tears sprung into the proud man's eyes; he held the little wasted
hand fast in his own a moment, saying seriously,--

"I _will_ take it, Jamie, as a loan wherewith to begin anew the life
I was about to fling away as readily as I do this;" and with a quick
motion he sent a vial whirling down into the street. "I'll try the
world once more in a humbler spirit, and have faith in _you,_ at
least, my little Providence."

With an altered purpose in his heart, and a brave smile on his lips,
the young man went away, leaving the child with another happy
memory, to watch the cross upon the old church tower.

It was mid-winter; and in the gloomy house reigned suffering and
want. Sister Bess worked steadily to earn the dear daily bread so
many pray for and so many need. Jamie lay upon his bed, carving with
feeble hands the toys which would have found far readier purchasers,
could they have told the touching story of the frail boy lying
meekly in the shadow of the solemn change which daily drew more