James knew the heart too well to refuse a favor in which the poor old man's mind was comforting itself. He had the self-command to abstain from any extraordinary expressions of gratitude, but took it kindly, as a matter of course. "Dear Grace," said he to her, the last evening before he left home, "I am changed; we both are altered since we first knew each other; and now I am going to be gone a long time, but I am sure----" He stopped to arrange his thoughts. "Yes, you may be sure of all those things that you wish to say, and cannot," said Grace. "Thank you," said James; then, looking thoughtfully, he added, "God help me. I believe I have mind enough to be what I mean to; but whatever I am or have shall be given to God and my fellow-men; and then, Grace, your brother in heaven will rejoice over me." "I believe he does _now_," said Grace. "God bless you, James; I don't know what would have become of us if you had not been here." "Yes, you will live to be like him, and to do even more good," she added, her face brightening as she spoke, till James thought she really must be right. * * * * * It was five years after this that James was spoken of as an eloquent and successful minister in the state of C., and was settled in one of its most thriving villages. Late one autumn evening, a tall, bony, hard-favored man was observed making his way into the outskirts of the place. "Halloa, there!" he called to a man over the other side of a fence; "what town is this 'ere?" "It's Farmington, sir." "Well, I want to know if you know any thing of a boy of mine that lives here?" "A boy of yours? Who?" "Why, I've got a boy here, that's livin' _on the town_, and I thought I'd jest look him up." "I don't know any boy that is living on the town. What's his name?" "Why," said the old man, pushing his hat off from his forehead, "I believe they call him James Benton." "James Benton! Why, that is our minister's name!" "O, wal, I believe he _is_ the minister, come to think on't. He's a boy o' mine, though. Where does he live?" "In that white house that you see set back from the road there, with all those trees round it." At this instant a tall, manly-looking person approached from behind. Have we not seen that face before? It is a touch graver than of old, and its lines have a more thoughtful significance; but all the vivacity of James Benton sparkles in that quick smile as his eye falls on the old man. "I _thought_ you could not keep away from us long," said he, with the prompt cheerfulness of his boyhood, and laying hold of both of Uncle Lot's hard hands. They approached the gate; a bright face glances past the window, and in a moment Grace is at the door. "Father! _dear_ father!" "You'd _better_ make believe be so glad," said Uncle Lot, his eyes glistening as he spoke.