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A hea-vi-ly la-den wag-gon creaks along the wind-ing road, co-ver-ed with a tilt as white as snow; but what has it in-side?  You can peep and see:  beau-ti-ful ta-bles and chairs, and sides of ba-con, and geese and chick-ens, and fair round chees-es, and rolls of gold-en but-ter, with white eggs peep-ing through the bars of their wick-er pris-on.  Where is the wag-gon go-ing?  To mar-ket, per-haps:  ask the youth who is trudg-ing by its side, with a smil-ing, hap-py face, rud-dy with health and the warm tinge of the sun.

[Illustration:  The triumphant return.]

Why, I de-clare that it is Wil-lie, grown quite stout and strong!  Where is he go-ing with that well-stored wag-gon, which real-ly has no hor-ses to draw it, and yet it goes for-ward at a pret-ty pace?  Why, I do be-lieve that the gi-ant hands are drag-ging it along!

It is Wil-lie, in-deed; and, joy-ous mo-ment! he is go-ing home.  In his pock-et he has much bright sil-ver, the pro-duce of his la-bour:  the con-tents of the wag-gon shows the farm-er’s gra-ti-tude to Wil-lie for his promp-ti-tude, en-er-gy, and in-dus-try; and, more than all, for his risk-ing his life to save that of his dar-ling child.

At last the cot-tage path is reach-ed.  His mo-ther is stand-ing at the gate:  Wil-lie shouts; such a heart-y shout!  His mo-ther looks up-on him, but can-not speak:  he is soon in her arms.

That night they sat late be-side their blaz-ing hearth:  a-midst the smoke might now be seen a large well-filled pot bub-bling with some-thing more than wa-ter in it.

How much Wil-lie had to tell his mo-ther of his la-bour, and what he ow-ed to the won-der-ful gi-ant hands, pre-serv-ing him through all dan-gers, and e-ver yield-ing him as-sist-ance!

Wil-lie’s mo-ther smi-led up-on him, as he con-clu-ded his nar-ra-tive, with a kiss.

“Dear child,” said she, “you have been in-deed for-tu-nate; but you were de-serv-ing.  That which ap-pears to you as a mi-ra-cle is none.  Those gi-ant hands have been known to ma-ny:  their pow-er is e-nor-mous; they al-ways as-sist the will-ing and the good; the re-ward they be-stow is cer-tain; they are the pow-er-ful hands of In-dus-try.

THE END.

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