"God counts as nothing that which is most brilliant in the eyes of men. What He would have in us is purity of intention, an ever-ready yielding of our will; and these are more safely, and at the same time more truly, proved in common than in extraordinary matters. Sometimes we care more for a trifle than for some object of importance; and there may be more difficulty in giving up an amusement, than bestowing a large sum in charity."—FÉNÉLON. THROUGH the lower part of Newton Bury ran a river, much used by the inhabitants. Newton Bury was to some extent a manufacturing town, and manufacturing people are apt to congregate about a stream—not to the increase of its loveliness. But higher up, before coming within sight of wharves or mills, the river was exceedingly pretty, with varied banks, wooded heights at a short distance, and abundant willow growths, diversified by clay strata. Here gentlemen who lived in the neighbourhood did a good deal of boating; and young fellows like Nigel were especially addicted to the amusement. As a dreamy boy, Nigel had counted no recreation equal to that of rowing up or down the stream on a summer day, with or without a companion. Some said he preferred the "without" to the "with"; though Nigel himself, while agreeing generally, always made a mental reservation in favour of Ethel. He was not now especially given to dreaming; but the old taste for boating survived. Mr. Carden-Cox owned a trim rowing-boat, which it was tacitly understood that Nigel might always use. His garden, a long and narrow slip, "ugly but useful" the owner said, sloped down a steep hillside to the very water's edge, and ended in a small boat-house beside some steps. A good many gentlemen's houses followed this plan with their gardens, thereabouts; but the Grange stood on the next hill, with part of the town between it and the river-side. A small steam-launch existed in Newton Bury for hiring purposes; and Mr. Carden-Cox, in his delight at his favourite's return, thought of the steam-launch. The second day after Nigel's arrival proved mild and sunny, almost like an April day; certainly not like November. Newton Bury boasted a clear atmosphere, despite its tall chimneys, and a Londoner would scarcely have recognised this as a November day at all, unless by the mistiness of far-off hollows. Even the Newton Bury people said they had seldom seen the like. "In honour of Nigel!" Mr. Carden-Cox averred, looking out of the window before breakfast; and he immediately determined to "set going something" which might please "the boy." Why not an excursion up the river in the steam-launch?