* * * * *
A hea-vi-ly la-den wag-gon creaks along the wind-ing road, co-ver-ed with a tilt as white as snow; but what has it in-side? You can peep and see: beau-ti-ful ta-bles and chairs, and sides of ba-con, and geese and chick-ens, and fair round chees-es, and rolls of gold-en but-ter, with white eggs peep-ing through the bars of their wick-er pris-on. Where is the wag-gon go-ing? To mar-ket, per-haps: ask the youth who is trudg-ing by its side, with a smil-ing, hap-py face, rud-dy with health and the warm tinge of the sun.
[Illustration: The triumphant return.]
Why, I de-clare that it is Wil-lie, grown quite stout and strong! Where is he go-ing with that well-stored wag-gon, which real-ly has no hor-ses to draw it, and yet it goes for-ward at a pret-ty pace? Why, I do be-lieve that the gi-ant hands are drag-ging it along!
It is Wil-lie, in-deed; and, joy-ous mo-ment! he is go-ing home. In his pock-et he has much bright sil-ver, the pro-duce of his la-bour: the con-tents of the wag-gon shows the farm-er’s gra-ti-tude to Wil-lie for his promp-ti-tude, en-er-gy, and in-dus-try; and, more than all, for his risk-ing his life to save that of his dar-ling child.
At last the cot-tage path is reach-ed. His mo-ther is stand-ing at the gate: Wil-lie shouts; such a heart-y shout! His mo-ther looks up-on him, but can-not speak: he is soon in her arms.
That night they sat late be-side their blaz-ing hearth: a-midst the smoke might now be seen a large well-filled pot bub-bling with some-thing more than wa-ter in it.
How much Wil-lie had to tell his mo-ther of his la-bour, and what he ow-ed to the won-der-ful gi-ant hands, pre-serv-ing him through all dan-gers, and e-ver yield-ing him as-sist-ance!
Wil-lie’s mo-ther smi-led up-on him, as he con-clu-ded his nar-ra-tive, with a kiss.
“Dear child,” said she, “you have been in-deed for-tu-nate; but you were de-serv-ing. That which ap-pears to you as a mi-ra-cle is none. Those gi-ant hands have been known to ma-ny: their pow-er is e-nor-mous; they al-ways as-sist the will-ing and the good; the re-ward they be-stow is cer-tain; they are the pow-er-ful hands of In-dus-try.
ROUTLEDGE’S EVERLASTING BOOKS,
Printed on cloth.
* * * * *
In Super-royal, 8vo, price Sixpence each on Paper, or printed on Cloth, One Shilling, with Cloth Cover.
Aunt Mavor’s Toy Books for Little readers.
With Large Coloured Illustrations, and Fancy Covers.
List of the series, viz:—