"I'm to go by the coach, which passes every day at three," was the boy's reply: "he gave me money, and told me how to come." "Then I think I'll go by it too," observed the pedlar, thoughtfully, "if before it comes I can get to G---- and back;" and he named a town which I shall leave nameless, for fear any of the gentlemen of the place should judge what is to follow too personal. "Why, it's only five miles there," answered the boy, "and the coach stops at the 'Tame Bear.' It can take you up there if you like to go, Joshua." "Don't you show that gold box to any one, then," said the pedlar; "for there are a good many rascals about, as I know to my cost, and many a man would think it worth his while to give you a knock on the head just to get that box. But I'll tell you what will be better still, my lad," he added after a moment's thought:--"If you can get ready quick, you had better come along with me. I can carry something for you, for my pack's light enough now, and we shall be a sort of protection to each other by the way." "Ay, there's been a sad heap of rascals down here lately," replied Jim; "but I'm quite ready this minute, Joshua. There's all I'm going to take: Mr. Galland, at the inn, has promised to send up some one to carry away the other things." "Not much to take care of," answered the pedlar. "But come along; shut the door and windows close, and then give the key to Mr. Galland as we go." The poor boy's arrangements were soon made; for whether, when justly weighed, the gifts of fortune be or be not more cumbersome than the cares of poverty, certain it is that little is more lightly looked after than much. Man is the most self-pampering creature upon earth; and he takes not into consideration whether in increasing his conveniences he does not increase his wants--whether in increasing his wants he does not increase his cares. He seeks that which is comfortable to him at the moment, without asking if it do not imply that he must seek for more, which may be more difficult to obtain; and the instinct of progress still carries him on, at once an evidence of his imperfection and his immortality. The instinct of beasts is wiser for this world. Offer a sheep, which stands half sheltered from the north-east wind under a leafless hedge, a coat, waistcoat, and breeches, and the beast will run away or butt you in disdain. Content with what he has, he looks not beyond the present hour, and shrinks from the luxury that may become a trammel, the comfort that must become a care. His life, his thought, his desire is for the present. But how different is man! His life is in the future; and every act, and thought, and aspiration, and custom, the history of the individual, the history of the species, the traditions of other years, the prophecies of time to come, the feelings of each moment, the deeds known or unchronicled--all show that there is a voice in the human heart crying ever, "On! on!--on to eternity!--on to progress, to