ducted Wooden Block to the door of a neat, comfortable-looking house, the interior of which was respectably furnished; the door was opened by a servant, who seemed the sole resident in this newly-built mansion. They had no sooner seated themselves, than Francis thus addressed his old friend: “You made me very happy one evening of my life, and I consider it my duty to make you so during the remaining evening of yours. This house, and the garden surrounding it, as well as the servant whom you now see, are all to be made use of for your convenience, and be assured, that the silver piece shall not be wanting to you; it will be found every day under your plate when you sit down to dinner. Besides, I must inform you, that little Grey Coat is my servant, and was sent with the money for you every day by me.”
The old grey-headed warrior was overwhelmed with astonishment and admiration, and thought it incomprehensible that the rich should feel such compassion for the poor. Tears of joy and gratitude flowed fast down his weather-beaten cheeks. Our hero having now acted the part of a guardian angel to Wooden Block, took a sudden departure, as angels are wont to do, without waiting to receive in words the thanks of the old man.
