"Do not speak unkindly of me to her, sir. I should be sorry if she thought ill"-- "She will respect you, Stukely, for the part which you have acted. She must do so. You will respect yourself." I had nothing more to say, I returned his warm pressure, and bade him farewell. "God bless you, lad, and prosper you! We may meet again in a happier season; but if we do not, receive a father's thanks and gratitude. You have behaved nobly. I feel it--believe me." Manly and generous tears rushed to the eyes of my venerable friend, and he could not speak. Once more he grasped my hand fervently, and in the saddest silence that I have ever known we separated. There was gloom around my heart, which the bright sun in heaven, that gladdened all the land, could not penetrate or disperse; but it gave way before a touch of true affection, which came to me as a last memorial of the beloved scene on which I lingered. I had hardly parted from the minister, before I perceived walking before me, at the distance of a few yards, the youngest of the lads who had been my pupils. At the request of the minister, I had neither taken leave of them nor informed any one of my departure. The lad whom I now saw was a fine spirited boy, who had strongly attached himself to me, and shown great aptitude, as well as deep desire, for knowledge. He knew very little when I came to him, but great pains had enabled him to advance rapidly. The interest which he manifested, called forth in me a corresponding disposition to assist him; and the grateful boy, altogether overlooking his own exertions, had over and over again expressed himself in the warmest terms of thankfulness for my instruction, to which he insisted he owed all that he had acquired. He was in his eleventh year, and his heart was as kind and generous as his intellect was vigorous and clear. I came up to him, and found him plucking the wild-flowers from the grass as he wandered slowly along. I looked at him as I passed, and found him weeping. "Alfred!" I exclaimed, "What do you here so early?" The boy burst into a fresh flow of tears, and threw himself passionately into my arms. He sobbed piteously, and at length said-- "Do not go, sir--do not leave me! You have been so kind to me. Pray, stop." "What is the matter Alfred?" "John has told me you are going, sir. He has just taken your box down. Oh, Mr. Stukely, stay for my sake! I won't give you so much trouble as I used to do. I'll learn my lessons better--but don't go, pray, sir." "You will have another teacher, Alfred, who will become as good a friend as I am. I cannot stay. Return to the parsonage--there's a dear boy." "Oh, if you must go, let me walk with you a little, sir! Let me take your hand. I shall be back in time for breakfast--pray, don't refuse me that, sir?"