86 Turnaside Cottage.

 

“Well, Reuben, how are you getting on? here’s
busy we are!” he began. “It’s a race betwixt us and
the storm to save poor Simon Williams’ main crop
of hay. There comes the clouds, and here goes we !”

I looked in the direction that he pointed, and
there, indeed, were the great thunderclouds gather-
ing in black array.

“T run down when I hearn what a fix he was in,”
continued Tommy. “ He wants every hand he can
catch, and we are at it, for life. There, I must run
—it would be such a pity if he should lose all his
crop, poor fellow !”

I watched him bounding away, and it occurred to
me, “ What a great sclfish wretch I am, to be lying
here like a log thinking of nothing but my own
concerns, while Tommy—-why, I am not half as
good as he!” This was a discovery, for I believe
that in my inmost heart I had thought myself a
great deal better, and had even tried to give him a
little good advice, not long before. Tommy had
cut it short with, “ Now, Reuben, you shut up ; you
will do no good that way. If you wants to lcad
people anywheres, go you first, and perhaps they'll
follow. But if you takes to sittin’ still and preachin’,
I’m off.” This had stopped me, but none the less
I had felt superior to gay, careless Tommy, until
that moment as I watched him from under the