There his brother and sisters played; there his associations, his hopes, his wishes, were all centered.  When he arrived at farmer Watkins’s, and was sent into the large carpeted kitchen, everything was so unlike this home, that his fortitude almost gave way, and it was as much as he could do, as he told his mother afterwards, “to keep from bursting right out.”  Mrs. Watkins looked very cross, nor did she notice him, except to order him to stand out of the way of the red-armed girl who was preparing supper and placing it on a table in the ample apartment.  Johnny looked with amazement at the great dishes of meat, and plates of hot biscuit, but the odour of the steaming coffee, and the heat, were almost too much for him, as he had eaten nothing since morning, for he was too sorry to leave home to care about dinner.  The girl, noticing that his pale face grew paler, laughingly drew her mistress’s attention to “master’s new boy.”

“Go out and bring in some wood for the stove,” said Mrs. Watkins, sharply; “the air will do you good.”

Johnny went out, and, in a few minutes, felt revived.  Looking about, he soon found the wood-shed; there was plenty of wood, but none cut of a suitable length; it was all in cord sticks.  Taking an axe, he chopped an armful, and on taking it into the house, found the family, had finished their suppers; the biscuits and meat were all eaten.

“Come on here to your supper,” said the maid-servant, angrily.  “What have you been doing?” and, without waiting for an answer, she filled a tin basin with mush and skimmed milk, and set it before him.  The little boy did not attempt to speak, but sat down and ate what was given him.  Immediately after, he was sent into a loft to bed, where he cried himself to sleep.  Ah! when we count the thousand pulsations that yield pain or pleasure to the human mind, what a power to do good or evil is possessed by every one; and how often would a kind word, or one sympathizing glance, gladden the hearts of those thus prematurely forced upon the anxieties of the world!  But how few there are who care to bestow them!  The next morning, long before dawn, the farmer’s family, with the exception of the younger children were astir.  The cattle were to be fed and attended to, the horses harnessed, the oxen yoked, and great was the bustle until all hands were fairly at work.  As for Johnny, he was taken into the field to assist in husking corn.  The wind was keen, and the stalks, from recent rain, were wet, and filled with ice.  His scanty clothing scarcely afforded any protection from the cold, and his hands soon became so numb that he could scarcely use them; but, if he stopped one moment to rap them, or breathe upon them, in the hope of imparting some warmth, the farmer who was close at hand, in warm woollen clothes and thick husking gloves, would call out,

“Hurry up, hurry up, my boy! no idle bread must be eaten here!”