88 Turnaside Cottage.

The sun went down and the moon rose upon our
toil; but we won the day. Before we parted, the
stack was made and shaped, and the top covered
with an old tarpaulin. The farmer shouted after
me a “Good night, my boy, and thank ye,” that was
sweet to my ears, and I went home better pleased
with myself than I had been for many days. It
was a real satisfaction to wake in the night and
hear the rain coming down in buckctfuls, knowing
that it might do its worst now ; and from that time
I felt reconciled with my neighbours again, and
almost with myself.

“But the boy must do something,’ said my
father; “and, upon my word, Reuben, I don’t sce
what you are fit for, except to be a tailor.”

“Oh no, father,’ said I, not daring to tell him
my ambition, but determined to keep time for
studying if I could ; “the confinement and the late
hours would make me ill, lam sure. But I think
there is one thing that I might do.”

“ And pray what is that ?”

“Well,” said I, hesitatingly, “you know the
people of Rhydewm complain that they cannot
buy fresh vegetables, and it struck me that if that
sunny slope of the field could be taken into the
garden, we might grow cabbages and lettuces and
other things, and I could look after them, you see ;