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heart, and the example of the ungodly, with whom she begged him to have no communion. She spoke of the necessity there was for constant watchfulness and prayer; told him to avoid all exhibition of self-will or disobedience; but above all to shun falsehood, that most ruinous of all vices, since it is the first step on the way which leads to eternal death. She bade him remember how the Scriptures teach, "Keep thy heart with all diligence, for out of it are the issues of life;" and that it is ever open to the scrutiny of the All-Seeing Eye.
William listened attentively to her teaching, and it took deep root in his soul. Was he to endure the trial of temptation? or would it perish, like the seed sown by the wayside?
There were no near relatives of the family, to whose care Margaret could think of consigning her child. A distant cousin or uncle by marriage, who kept a shoe store in New York, and who had visited them sometimes, was said to be rich, and she thought that if he would undertake the guardianship of the boy, and keep him in his family for some years, he might at last be promoted to the rank of clerk. She therefore wrote to him, and as a satisfactory answer was soon returned, the arrangement was settled, the good baker promising either to take the boy to New York himself or send him with an acquaintance.
And now she felt more at ease. She had made this plan, as she judged, for the best; the rest she left to the never-failing Wisdom to order, as was right.
A few days after her walk to the church-yard she was confined to her bed, from which she never arose. The pastor visited her daily, and as William never left her for a moment, he was always present at their spiritual conversations. Oh, how powerful was the impression he received; how it operated, not only on his present, but future life; and how often afterward did he thank his heavenly Father that he had been thus early and spiritually taught!
William was very young; but we know that children at a very early period are able to comprehend the most important truths of God's word; and the sanctifying blessing accompanying, they are, like Timothy, made wise unto salvation. It was not until after his mother's funeral that William knew he was to go to New York, to be a shoemaker's apprentice, and he was greatly troubled at the prospect. He would have preferred remaining in the village. There was, however, no employment for him there, and he was hardly strong enough for steady farm work. His friend the baker had taken him home on the day of the funeral, and he was happy with that kind family, for George Herman was his friend, and they loved each other so well that they could not hear the thought of parting. The good baker would not hear of his going for a month or two, or at least until the first violence of his sorrow was past; and thinking it better he should he with companions of his own age, he sent him to school with his friend George.
The rudiments of a kind of drawing were taught there, and although nothing but circles, squares, triangles, and ovals were practised, the teacher saw, by the borders of William's slate, which way his talent led; and pitying the boy who would be obliged to make shoes for a living, while gifted so far above the ordinary standard, he would gladly have taught him for nothing had his friend the baker permitted. But Mr. Herman knew the opinion of his parents on that subject, and he felt that it would be wrong for him to encourage that which they did not. William, however, although he took no lessons, learned a great deal of the, to him, forbidden art, and went on contentedly, knowing nothing of the teacher's proposal or his protector's objection.
CHAPTER IV.
WILLIAM AT HIS MOTHER'S GRAVE.
As the time appointed for his departure drew near, William's heart became very sad. The prospect of being separated from his friend George gave him no little pain. He shrunk, too, from the idea of living with perfect strangers.
Time, however, waits for no one. The day but one before that on which he was to set out arrived; and having gone around to say farewell to his acquaintances, he made his last visit to the church-yard where his parents lay buried. His mother had been peculiarly fond of flowers, and when obliged to give up her garden, had beautified and planted her husband's grave with some of the choicest of her treasures. Her only recreation was this labour of love; for she took a mournful pleasure in