Edward’s brother George was three or four years older than himself, a fine, hardy lad, of a bold and ardent temper.  He was the leader of his comrades in all their enterprises and amusements.  As to his proficiency at study, there was not much to be said.  He had sense and ability enough to have made himself a scholar, but found so many pleasanter things to do, that he seldom took hold of a book with his whole heart.  So fond was George of boisterous sports and exercises, that it was really a great token of affection and sympathy, when he offered to sit all day long in a dark chamber, with his poor brother Edward.

As for little Emily Robinson, she was the daughter of one of Mr. Temple’s dearest friends.  Ever since her mother went to Heaven, (which was soon after Emily’s birth,) the little girl had dwelt in the household where we now find her.  Mr. and Mrs. Temple seemed to love her as well as their own children; for they had no daughter except Emily; nor would the boys have known the blessing of a sister, had not this gentle stranger come to teach them what it was.  If I could show you Emily’s face, with her dark hair smoothed away from her forehead, you would be pleased with her look of simplicity and loving-kindness, but might think that she was somewhat too grave for a child of seven years old.  But you would not love her the less for that.

So brother George, and this loving little girl, were to be Edward’s companions and playmates, while he should be kept prisoner in the dark chamber.  When the first bitterness of his grief was over, he began to feel that there might be some comforts and enjoyments in life, even for a boy whose eyes were covered with a bandage.

“I thank you, dear mother,” said he, with only a few sobs, “and you, Emily; and you too, George.  You will all be very kind to me, I know.  And my father—­will not he come and see me, every day?”

“Yes, my dear boy,” said Mr. Temple; for, though invisible to Edward, he was standing close beside him.  “I will spend some hours of every day with you.  And as I have often amused you by relating stories and adventures, while you had the use of your eyes, I can do the same, now that you are unable to read.  Will this please you, Edward?”

“Oh, very much!” replied Edward.

“Well then,” said his father, “this evening we will begin the series of Biographical Stories, which I promised you some time ago.”

Chapter II

When evening came, Mr. Temple found Edward considerably revived in spirits, and disposed to be resigned to his misfortune.  Indeed, the figure of the boy, as it was dimly seen by the fire-light, reclining in a well stuffed easy-chair, looked so very comfortable that many people might have envied him.  When a man’s eyes have grown old with gazing at the ways of the world, it does not seem such a terrible misfortune to have them bandaged.