When David returned with a great piece of molasses-candy, he did not keep it all himself.  He divided it among the other children without being told to do so.  This showed that he was a generous child, and loved to make others happy.  When he had eaten his portion, his grandmother washed his face, neck, and hands, and put on his best clothes, which his mother had made for him before her death.  He looked very tidy and comfortable in his brown overcoat and his new boots—­a New-Year’s present.

The grandmother tied up a pair of shoes and a few socks in a little bundle.  When she handed it to David, he burst into tears.  He felt that he was really going from his dearest friend.  She wept aloud for a few minutes, but when she saw how much it affected him, she wiped away her tears, and attempted to cheer him.  He summoned his resolution and became once more calm.

Mrs. B——­ took him by the hand, and led him down stairs.  As he left the room, I gave mine to his grandmother, who uplifted it in both her’s, as if pleading, in silent agony, for strength to bear this new trial.  I shall never forget the expression of that wrinkled, up-turned face.  Dear old grandmother!  Who will comfort her now?  David will not forget her, but he cannot put his arms around her neck, nor cheer her with the sunlight of his bright face.  She is alone—­none of her kindred near.  The lady who took charge of David will do what she can for her, but her heart must yearn for the dear boy that poverty and age compelled her to give to the fostering care of strangers.

When David reached the street, the tears were tracing their way over his round, plump cheek, but soon a smile played around his mouth.  Mrs. B——­ took him into a toy-shop, and purchased for him a tin horse suspended in a wheel, which he could roll about the room.  He selected this himself, and it was delightful to see with how much pleasure he looked at it, as he carried it in his hand.

We concluded to make no more calls that day, but to take David directly to Mrs. B——­’s.  When his coat and cap were taken off, he began to roll the horse across the floor.  Sometimes he would come and stand by my side, and examine it closely.  I said to him—­

“Have you ever been in the country?”

“Oh, yes.  I was there a month, when we buried mother.”

“Where were you?”

“We were with Elek, grandma’s son.”

“Why doesn’t your grandmother live with him?”

“He isn’t kind to her.”

“Was his wife kind?”

“No; she said she wouldn’t live with him if grandma did.”

“What did you see in the country?”

“I saw the fields, and the trees, and horses, and cows.”

“Did Elek have a cow?”

“Yes; and she went away every day, and at night she came home, and they milked her.”

“Did you see any birds?”

“I saw birds no bigger than that,” said he, putting his hand over his horse so as to hide more than half of it, “and they sang all the time.  And there were some chickens, that laid eggs, and then Elek’s wife sold the eggs to the baker to pay for bread.”