“If I were well and strong like you, sir, I think I should be so thankful nothing could trouble me;” and with a sigh the boy glanced at the vigorous frame and energetic countenance of his new friend, wondering at the despondent look he wore. “If you were poor, so poor you had no means wherewith to get a crust of bread, nor a shelter for the night; if you were worn-out with suffering and labor, soured by disappointment and haunted by ambitious hopes never to be realized, what would you do, Jamie?” suddenly asked the young man, prompted by the desire that every human heart has felt for sympathy and counsel, even from the little creature before him ignorant and inexperienced as he was. But the child, wiser in his innocence than many an older counsellor, pointed upward, saying with a look of perfect trust,-- “I should look up to the cross upon the tower and think of what Bess told me about God, who feeds the birds and clothes the flowers, and I should wait patiently, feeling sure he would remember me.” The young man leaned his head upon his folded arms and nothing stirred in the room, but the wind that stole in through the roses to fan the placid face upon the pillow. “Are you weary waiting for me, Jamie dear? I could not come before;” and as her eager voice broke the silence, Sister Bess came hastening in. The stranger, looking up, saw a young girl regarding him from Jamie's close embrace, with a face whose only beauty was the light her brother spoke of, that beamed warm and bright from her mild countenance and made the poor room fairer for its presence. “This is Bess, my Bess, sir,” cried the boy, “and she will thank you for your kindness in sitting here so long with me.” “I am the person who lodges just below you; I mistook this room for my own; pardon me, and let me come again, for Jamie has already done me good,” replied the stranger as he rose to go. “Bess, dear, will you bring me a cup of water?” Jamie said; and as she hastened away, he beckoned his friend nearer, saying with a timid wistful look,-- “Forgive me, if it's wrong, but I wish you would let me give you this; it's very little, but it may help some; and I think you'll take it to please 'poor Jamie.' Won't you, sir?” and as he spoke, the child offered a bright coin, the proceeds of his work. Tears sprung into the proud man's eyes; he held the little wasted hand fast in his own a moment, saying seriously,-- “I _will_ take it, Jamie, as a loan wherewith to begin anew the life I was about to fling away as readily as I do this;” and with a quick motion he sent a vial whirling down into the street. “I'll try the world once more in a humbler spirit, and have faith in _you,_ at least, my little Providence.” With an altered purpose in his heart, and a brave smile on his lips, the young man went away, leaving the child with another happy memory, to watch the cross upon the old church tower.