A True Hero | Page 9

then been a
free agent, I could not have received thee as I desired."

CHAPTER FIVE.
Wenlock Christison and his son proceeded up Cornhill a short time
after the events which have been described. They were examining the
various signs over the shop doors, in search of that which distinguished
Master Mead's abode.
"Ah! there it is," said Wenlock; "that must be the `Spinning Wheel' he
told us of."
A demure youth with well-brushed hair was standing at the door, in
courteous language inviting passers-by to enter and inspect his master's
goods.
"Is this Master Mead's abode, young man?" inquired Captain
Christison.
"Verily, friend, it is," answered the shopman. "If thou wilt enter, thou
wilt find thy money's worth for any goods thou mayst purchase. Master
Mead bringeth good judgment to bear on his purchases, and buys only
such goods as those in which he has confidence. Enter, friend; enter, I
pray thee."
"Thank you," said Christison; "but I wish to see Master Mead himself."
"If thou wilt enter through this door, thou wilt find him in the upper
story with his family," answered the shopman, leading the way; and
Christison and Wenlock proceeded upstairs.
Master Mead cordially welcomed his old friend, introducing him to a
comely matron whom he spoke of as his wife Martha. "And here is my
daughter Mary," he added, pointing to a remarkably pretty and
fair-haired girl, who smiled sweetly, and held out her hand to her
father's guests. She might have been two or three years younger than
Wenlock, though, being well grown, there seemed but little difference
in their ages. While their elders were talking, the young people, after a
few desultory remarks, found themselves drawn into conversation.

"I hear from my father that thou hast been a great traveller already,"
said Mary Mead.
"Yes, indeed," answered Wenlock. "I scarcely remember ever
remaining more than two or three months in one place. When my
mother died, my father left our home in New England, ever after
seeking for some spot where he might settle, but finding none, till at
length he determined to go back to the old country."
"You can have had but little time for obtaining instruction then?" said
Mary, "I thought boys were always sent to school."
"I picked up what I could out of what my father calls the `big book of
life,'" answered Wenlock. "He also gave me such instructions as time
and opportunity would allow, though there are many more things I
should like to learn. I have, however, read not a few books; I can
handle a singlestick as well as many older men, can ride, row, and
shoot with arquebuse or crossbow, and I can write letters on various
subjects, as I will prove to you, Mistress Mary, if you will allow me,
when I again begin my wanderings; for I doubt whether my father will
long remain in this big city. He is constantly complaining that the times
are out of joint; and although we have been in England but a few weeks,
he threatens again speedily to leave it."
"That were a pity," said Mary. "I prefer the green fields, and the woods,
and the gay flowers, and the songs of birds, to the narrow streets, the
dingy houses, and the cries of London; but yet I opine that happiness
comes from within, and that, if the heart is at rest, contentment may be
found under all circumstances."
"You are a philosopher," said Wenlock.
"No," answered Mary quietly, "I am a Quakeress, an you please: and
our principles afford us that peace and contentment which they of the
world know not of."
"I must get you to teach me to be a Quaker, then," said Wenlock. "I
have been listening attentively to your father's discourses to mine, and

even he, who was so much opposed to such ideas, has greatly been
attracted by them; and, to tell you the truth, Mistress Mead, I have
made up my mind that they are the best that I have heard of. There may
be better, but I know not of them."
"Oh, no, no. There can be no better than such as are to be found in the
Book of Life," said Mary. "You must judge of our principles by that,
and that alone. If they are not according to that, they are wrong; but if
they are according to that, there can be none better."
Wenlock, as he talked to the fair young Quakeress, felt himself every
moment becoming more and more a convert to her opinions; and had
not his father been present, he would then and there have undoubtedly
confessed himself a Quaker.
The young people had found their way, somehow or other, to the bow
window at the further end of the room, their elders,