“You said,” continued the neighbor, “only a few months ago, ’What can I do?’ and spoke as a man who felt that he was deprived of all the means of accomplishing good; and yet you have, with but little effort, lifted a human soul out of the dark valley of ignorance, where it was groping ill self-torture, and placed it on an ascending mountain path.  The light of hope has fallen, through your aid, with sunny warmth upon a heart that was cold and barren a little while ago, but is now green with verdure, and blossoming in the sweet promise of fruit.  The infinite years to come alone can reveal the blessings that will flow from this one act of a bedridden man, who felt that in him was no capacity for good deeds.”

The advantages of a school being placed within the reach of Tom Hicks, he gave up every thought to the acquirement of knowledge.  And now came a serious difficulty.  His bent, stiff fingers could not be made to hold either pen or pencil in the right position, or to use them in such a way as to make intelligible signs.  But Tom was too much in earnest to give up on the first, or second, or third effort.  He found, after a great many trials, that he could hold a pencil more firmly than at first, and guide his hand in some obedience to his will.  This was sufficient to encourage him to daily long-continued efforts, the result of which was a gradual yielding of the rigid muscles, which became in time so flexible that he could make quite passable figures, and write a fair hand.  This did not satisfy him, however.  He was ambitious to do better; and so kept on trying and trying, until few boys in the school could give a fairer copy.

“Have you heard the news?” said a neighbor to Mr. Croft, the poor bedridden man.  It was five years from the day he gave the poor cripple, Tom Hicks, his first lesson.

“What news?” the sick man asked, in a feeble voice, not even turning his head towards the speaker.  Life’s pulses were running very low.  The long struggle with disease was nearly over.

“Tom Hicks has received the appointment of teacher to our public school.”

“Are you in earnest?” There was a mingling of surprise and doubt in the low tones that crept out upon the air.

“Yes.  It is true what I say.  You know that after Mr. Wilson died the directors got Tom, who was a favorite with all the scholars, to keep the school together for a few weeks until a successor could be appointed.  He managed so well, kept such good order, and showed himself so capable as an instructor, that, when the election took place to-day, he received a large majority of votes over a number of highly-recommended teachers, and this without his having made application for the situation, or even dreaming of such a thing.”

At this moment the cripple’s well-known shuffling tread and the rattle of crutches was heard on the stairs.  He came up with more than his usual hurry.  Croft turned with an effort, so as to get a sight of him as he entered the room.