oblige, to take labours upon him that really did not belong to him, and to receive with gratitude any little favours bestowed. He was solitary, however, not seeking the company of other boys of the same age in the poor-house, for he remembered how the boys of his native village would not play with him, on account of his birth, and he supposed that the same reason might operate among his new associates; and even when his good sense showed him that such could not be the case, as they could know nothing of his birth, and were . alike, 'poor-house children' with him, the habit had been so formed of a love of solitude, that he continued it from choice. But solitude was of no disservice to him; it created no gloom, no morbid sensibilities; it strengthened his dependence upon himself, and led him to study the broad book of nature open before him.

Ernest, his tempter, left him pretty much to himself in his earliest years. His own haughtiness and indolence of character were such, that he as yet did not choose to take much interest in his victim, and the condition under which he was made a tempter, did not demand his presence. He was ignorant of the consequences to himself that such neglect might bring; and he felt, that

as he had killed his man in a duel, that the common exemption ought to have been his lot, and that his punishment for contumacy at the commencement of his demoniacal career, was unjust. In doing this, he only carried into his new existonce his old character, formed in life. In consequence of this neglect, most of the principles of right, instilled into Robert's soul by his mother in early years, were never forgotten, and formed the basis of much that was good even in his earliest intercourse with the world.

There was

Instructions, he now had none. no orphan institution in or near the place, that would give him, with a support, something of an education; and he grew up with no knowledge of books, but much information derived from nature and from observation. At the proper age, he was bound out, as the term is, to one of the most enterprising men of the town, not as an apprentice, but as a servant, to perform such labours as his master demanded, in return for food, clothing and instruction. This was at ten years of age, and he was to continue in that situation until fifteen; and then, either be bound apprentice to some trade, or continue with his present master until he was twenty-one, at his option.

His master owned a large farm, had a forge, furnace, grist-mill, and saw-mill upon it, and carried on an extensive dealing in produce with all the neighbouring towns. He was industrious, energetic, and, when not provoked by passion, of the average kindness. He never neglected his duty to his boys, and exacted the utmost from them. They were well fed, properly though coarsely clothed, had an opportunity of going to school in the winter, and were always required to be at meeting twice every Sabbath. He punished severely, though not unjustly; but he punished carelessness and forgetfulness as heavily as he did crime.

Under such a master, Robert formed a character for energy, despatch, and accuracy, beyond his years; and such qualities soon recommended him to the confidence of his master, who, though he was never partial, knew when to reward merit. He was surprised to discover that the overseer of the poor had given Robert no schooling, and that he was utterly unable to read. But the term of the winter school commenced, and Robert surprised every one by the rapidity with which he learned every thing placed before him. The winter was a profitable one to him, and his energy

and native quickness were never so apparent, as in the overcoming every difficulty in this new employment.

Spring arrived, and with it, the commencement of his laborious duties on the farm. But though at work, his mind was not idle; he thought upon every thing he had read, or every thing he Some little book was always in his hat to occupy every moment of rest.

saw.

As soon as the season of planting was over, his master sent him to the saw-mill to attend its operations. As he soon became expert in its management, the attendance upon that became his exclusive business, and, as it affected his character, and of course his subsequent destiny, a description of the place is desirable.

CHAPTER XXVI.

THE SAW-MILL.

THE town in which Robert Woods was now residing, lay on the western slope of a range of

high, rocky hills, which reached far to the east, constituting what may be termed a mountainous region, though not equalling in height or grandeur the White or even the Green mountains. The farm lay on the south-west slope of these hills, and had the usual variety of upland and lowland, of meadow, pasture and corn ground. The screen of mountains on the north and east kept off the cold, damp blasts of early spring, and protected it, during summer, from the severity of many a north-easter. It had its cold blasts, however, for the clear piercing gales of the northwest had not much to break their force, and they scoured the frozen ground in winter, and tempered the heat of summer. Gentle gales from the south and south-west would breathe up through the sheltered valleys, and even in winter bring the gulf-stream air, in its genial warmth, to soften the rigours of the season. The whole range was covered with a luxuriant growth of hemlock or chestnut, those ornaments, in summer and winter, of a New England forest. On the extreme eastern part of Mr. Curtis' farm, a large stream of clear cold water, formed amid the rocks and roughnesses of the mountain range, dashed over the barrier and precipitated itself on