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[Illustration:  Arthur and his dog.]

Arthur Hamilton,
and his dog.

Written for the Massachusetts Sabbath School Society, and approved by the Committee of Publication.

1851.

ARTHUR HAMILTON.

CHAPTER I.

LEAVING HOME.

One pleasant October evening, Arthur Hamilton was at play in front of the small, brown cottage in which he lived.  He and his brother James, were having a great frolic with a large spotted dog, who was performing a great variety of antics, such as only well-educated dogs understand.  But Rover had been carefully initiated into the mysteries of making a bow while standing on his hind legs, tossing pieces of bread off his nose, putting up his fore-paws with a most imploring look, and piteous whine, which the boys called “begging for money,” and when a chip had been given him, he uttered a most energetic bow-wow-wow, which they regarded as equivalent to “thank you, sir,” and walked off.

While they were thus amusing themselves, their mother was sitting on the rude piazza which ran along the front of the cottage, now looking at the merry children, and then thoughtfully gazing at the long shadows which were stretching across the road.  Mrs. Hamilton was a woman of wonderful strength, and energy, both of body and mind; and she had been sustained for many years by the Christian’s hope; but there was now a heavy burden resting on her soul, which even her native energy and Christian trust were unable to remove.  She had known many days of worldly prosperity, since she had resided in that little cottage; but of late, trials had multiplied; and days and nights of heart-crushing sorrow had been appointed unto her.  He who should have shared life’s trials and lightened their weight, had proved recreant to his trust, and was now wandering, she knew not whither; and poverty was staring the deserted family in the face.  Debts had accumulated, and though Mrs. Hamilton had done all that could be done to meet the emergency, though she had labored incessantly, and borne fatigue and self-denial, with a brave and cheerful spirit, it had been found necessary to leave the home so dear to her,—­the home where she had been brought a fair and youthful bride; where she had spent many happy years, and which was endeared to her by so many sweet and hallowed, as well as painful, associations.  Every foot of the green meadow, the orchard on the hill, and the pasture lying beyond, was dear to her; and it was painful to see them pass into other hands.  But that heaviest of all the trials which poverty brings to the mother’s heart, was hers also.  The