W

'SET A STOUT HEART TO A STAE BRAE.'

ELL, this is hard work, and no mistake,' said a fine-looking boy of some fourteen years old, as he threw down a large pile of wood in the corner of a yard, and lifting an axe, began to break it up for firewood. After a few vigorous strokes he stopped; and resting his hand on the pile, stood a few

moments lost in thought-a weary, disheartened expression on his face, as of one worked beyond his strength. It seemed no great wonder that he was fatigued just then, for it was a broiling June day, and there was no shade in the yard; moreover, chopping sticks for firewood is not the most pleasant of occupations in hot

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weather, especially when the wood has been conveyed by the chopper from some distance off.

The birds were singing merrily, basking and revelling in the very sunshine, which beat so strongly on the boy's head. Their song seemed to rouse him from his reverie, for he looked half enviously at some of them, as they twittered past him in their way to the cool shade of some neighbouring thicket. Perhaps he envied them for having time or inclination to sing; for he sighed, and repeated again the words, Hard work, very.'

He served a hard Before his eyes he cottage, built on a

Poor boy! he had toiled from early morn, and still had hours of work before him ere the time of rest came. Fain would he have thrown aside the axe, and laid down his weary head; but it must not be. master, and money must be earned. thought that he saw a low thatched rocky eminence, at the foot of which the great ocean dashed its waves, now crested with foam, and as if bent on destruction; or at other times rolled them gently, never breaking till they came in contact with some of the 'cold grey stones' which lay near the rock where stood the solitary cottage. Work he must, for in that cottage lived his widowed mother and two young sisters, who were almost dependent on the small pittance he could earn for their livelihood.

Presently a heavy hand was laid on his shoulder, and a kindly voice said, 'Art wearied, lad? There's more than thee that, I'm thinking; but 'twill never do to get faint-hearted, my boy: we must "work while 'tis called to-day," thee knows. And there's a good saying in the far north country thee comest from, Alick, that the best way is 66 to set a stout heart to a stae brae.'

The boy turned towards the speaker a face full of gratitude for the kind words spoken; indeed, but for the help and sympathy of the kind-hearted Quaker, Obadiah Preston, the fatherless boy would have long ago given up his situation in despair. His master was the owner of a large woodyard, and Alick's duties were almost too

numerous to be named; but certainly it was work, work, work, from morning till evening. And hard words, and even blows, were oftener his recompense, than kindness or praise.

'Good day, Obadiah,' he said. 'I am weary; but see, I have not idled: all this wood I have brought from the forest twice already to-day; and when this is cut up, I must be off again to fetch more. The men are busy felling the trees there to-day, and I have to lop off the branches.'

'Well, thee is hard-worked for one so young; but thee must not give in. There is thy mother and the little ones all looking to thee. See, now, there is a hard bit of wood; I'll lend thee a hand a bit.' And taking the axe from the boy, the strong man set to work, and in a wonderfully short time cut up a large quantity of the wood. When he finished, Alick took the axe, and, refreshed by his short rest, set vigorously to work, warmly thanking his kind friend for his timely aid. Obadiah watched him at work for a few minutes, then turned away, saying as he went, 'That's right; there's nothing like setting a "stout heart to a stae brae."'

But Obadiah was not content with merely giving good advice: he saw the lad was over-worked, and determined to seek the master—his master also, although Obadiah would not have so termed him for the world—and plead for a couple of days' holidays for him. Obadiah was a favourite with the master, and after a short resistance obtained his request.

In the meantime Alick toiled on bravely; and having finished the work of chopping, set off again to the forest for a new supply. It was at some distance, and the road to it was steep; but Obadiah's kind sympathy had lightened the boy's heart, and he felt almost cheerful as he walked along. As soon as he entered the forest, he felt refreshed. Soft green light fell around, lighting up the beautiful mossy carpet under foot, and tinging with golden hues the wavy fronds of the graceful ferns.

A

slight breeze swept over the whole of the 'leafy tide of greenery,' and made sweet music to the boy's ears. The song of the birds was more subdued there; but the monotonous plaint of the cushat echoed from every part, and added to the soothing effect of the whole surroundings.

The men were working deep in the forest; and as the boy walked along, he had time to notice many of the beauties around him. There were flowers in abundance nestling at the foot of the huge trees; and each, in their simple beauty, preaching a silent sermon on the wonderful workmanship and tender care of the great Creatoreach cup a pulpit, every leaf a book. But better even

than the flowers, Alick loved to watch the merry little squirrels, who jumped from tree to tree, stopping every now and then to peep at him with their sharp black eyes as he passed. He did so wish that Lizzie and Mary, his two young sisters, could have seen them; how they would have clapped their hands with joy!

He soon reached the wood-fellers, and found plenty of work awaiting him. One large tree was just being pulled to the ground by ropes, and Alick had to step quickly aside to be out of the way. Then came the work of lopping off the branches, carting many of them, and making up a large pile to be carried by himself to the yard, as the cart and the men were not to return homewards for some hours. Heavily laden, he set off; but the burden of the morning was gone. He had set a stout heart to a stae brae;' and he found from experience, that it very effectually lightened labour. When he once more reached the yard, the friendly face of Obadiah welcomed him.

'Thee looks brighter than thee didst, lad,' he said; 'and I have good news for thee. Mr. Grattan sayeth thee may go home to-night, and see how the mother and the young ones fare, and thee mayest remain over Firstday. There, lad, thee needest not look as if thee wert scared with joy! The empty wood carts will be going

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thy road soon after six o'clock, and thee will get a good lift in them.'

Alick's joy could not find vent in words. To see again his home, and all the dear ones there, seemed almost too much pleasure to believe in. How could he thank his friend enough, who had obtained this favour for him? How glad mother would be, and his little sisters! how much they would have to tell him! And he-ah ! he had a little posy of money carefully put aside. How he would rejoice in putting it into the hands of his mother! and she should never know how hardly he had toiled to earn it. With this bright prospect before him, one would scarcely have recognised him as the same boy who stood so despondingly at that spot in the morning. How heartily he worked, every now and then breaking out into a loud whistle!

Obadiah looked at him with delight; and bidding him to be sure and come to his cottage ere he departed, he left him to finish his own work in another part of the yard, happy in the consciousness that he had been the means of lightening in some degree the lot of the fatherless child.

Six o'clock came at last; and a few minutes later saw Alick Watson jumping into one of the carts which was to convey him part of the way homeward. Obadiah saw him off, and took care he should not go empty-handed. There was a nice piece of bacon for his mother, and some cakes of his daughter Priscilla's baking for the children.

Alick's looks told, more than his words did, the gratitude of his heart; and as Obadiah bade him farewell, saying solemnly at parting, 'The Lord bless thee, and keep thee,' the boy felt his heart lifted in love nearer to his heavenly Father than he had ever felt before.

The moon had risen, and her silvery beams were falling in long lines on the ocean, as Alick neared his home. The lamp was as yet unlit in the little cottage, and gently lifting the latch, the boy entered. A welcome, warm and affectionate as heart could desire, awaited him.

His