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fortable by the attentive nurse, and with clean linen about him; and the child looked so different from what he had done on the night of his accident, and his face had such a sweet, patient expression, as he lay with closed eyes, though not asleep, that Mr. Lambert felt an instant conviction that he had spoken the truth when he said, "Indeed, indeed, I am not a wicked boy;" and, in a tone of almost fatherly kindness, said,

"How dost thou find thyself this morning?"

On hearing the voice, James, who had not been aware of Mr. Lambert's quiet approach, opened his eyes, and seeing who it was, answered with a bright smile,—

"Much better, thank you, Sir."

"I am glad to hear it. Art thou quite comfortable here?"

"Quite, thank you, Sir."

"Dost thou know any thing of this book, child?" said Mr. Lambert, sitting down by the bed-side, and taking a Testament from his pocket.

"O yes!" replied James, his eyes glistening, "it is the Testament. I was wishing for one so much."

"Canst thou read it?"

"I used to read a chapter every night to

mother, before she died; but at my uncle's I could not."

"Shall I read a chapter to thee?"

"If you would please read me the story of the poor man that fell among thieves: I have been thinking about it so much."

"Ha!" said Mr. Lambert, "and how camest thou to fall among thieves?" added he, fixing a steady look on James's face.

James turned scarlet, and bitter tears came into his eyes; but his voice did not falter, as he replied--" Indeed, Sir, I did not know they were thieves: I was very hungry indeed, Sir; and they said they would give me something to eat if I would do something for them: I did not know what it was they wanted, indeed, Sir."

"Do not distress thyself; do not distress thyself, child," said Mr. Lambert, gently laying his hand on the boy's head. "I am very willing to believe thee. Wilt thou answer me truly a few questions?"

"Yes, I will," said James, with a look and tone of truthful eagerness.

Mr. Lambert then, by a simple but skilful examination, soon drew from him the history of his birth, parentage, and all the little circumstances of his short but eventful life. He

found him so perfectly correct and consistent in all he said, that not a shadow of doubt remained on the good man's mind of his truth and honesty; but he determined to verify the story as far as he was able, by making enquiries at the China Works, and by seeing John Mason; and he told James he should do so, taking leave of him for that time by saying: "If I find that what thou hast said is true, and if thou wilt promise to be a good boy, I will be a friend to thee."

"And when I am well, will you send me home to Mary?"

"I will take thee myself."

It need hardly be said that James's story received full corroboration from all that Mr. Lambert heard and saw in the course of his enquiries. His acute and practised discrimination saw enough in Mrs. Mason's appearance and manner to convince him that James's account of her taking the money, which was the only part of the story that was drawn from him with reluctance, was not at variance with probability.

It only remained to be seen whether the account of Mrs. Lee, and of his sister Mary, was equally correct. In a few weeks this was put to the proof. The very day James was discharged as cured from the hospital, he was

mounted, dressed in a neat new suit of clothes, with which Mrs. Lambert had presented him, on the box of their pony-carriage; and his kind friends giving their coachman the order, "To Malvern," the beautiful grey ponies were soon rapidly trotting along the road.

Quickly as they went, the time seemed long before the impatient boy recognised the wellremembered scenes of his old home.

"That's Molly Lee's cottage," said he to the coachman; "and there's Mary," he exclaimed, jumping up, and forgetting, in his eager joy, the weakness of his newly-cured leg.

Mary was slowly coming down the road, following the "Flower of Malvern," who, tired with a long excursion, was leisurely returning to her shed. They reached the door of the cottage just as the ponies stopped; and Mary, looking up with surprise, saw her dear long-lost brother.

"Jemmy!" she exclaimed.

The coachman got off the box, and lifted the little boy down carefully. His sister threw her arms round his neck, and hugged him as if she would never let him go from her again; while the good Quakers, with glistening eyes, looked on this touching meeting.

The remainder of this simple tale may be briefly told. Jemmy became the proud and happy master of the "Flower of Malvern," and they were the favourite donkey and donkey-boy of all the visiters of that delightful place; and Mary maintained herself in comfort by glovemaking. Shortly afterwards, poor old Thomas Lee died, and good Molly took the children to live with her, as her own, and ever received from them the respect and duty of children.

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