Christian hope. Hard, hard is the heart that would not weep for the sorrows of the poor man's children; and cruel, cruel is the system which keeps them in poverty, hunger, and dirt." "Generally," he adds, "I had to drive the wheel from four in the morning till ten at night, the long day which my poor father had to weave to support his family. No wonder then I have not become a giant in stature.

CHAPTER II.

EARLIER STRUGGLES TO LEARN.

THE AWAKENING OF THE DESIRE TO LEARN.

IT has been said that few can read Mr Hillocks' "Life Story" without tears and smiles. There is "an air of child-like simplicity" about the "Story," but there is also a quiet humour which frequently comes out, often side by side with touching pathos. Of this we have an instance in the chapter we are about to give.

Notwithstanding what we have read, he brightens up, and tells us, that "Hope looked in, and said, 'Look up!" and then adds, "Dark as the clouds were, there was a silver lining occasionally."

To the poor, a little seems much, if it comes when most wanted. It was so in the case of our young hero. A tiny ray lit up his naturally happy face from time to time. And the first we hear of comes in the form of "a little leisure at meal times." The next took the shape of the additional favour of a run out in the gloamins with other boys and girls, both of which benefits were to him a source of great pleasure. But these breathing times were destined to give more than mere recreation. By means of this favour he formed the acquaintance of more fortunate children, who went to school, and who could read and write. The knowledge of this, and his conversations with them, soon created in him the wish to be able to do likewise. And this desire so greatly increased, that, of his own

accord, he lessened his play-time; so much so that whenever he had the opportunity he was seen among those four or five times his age, listening to others reading or discussing.

This desire to learn was strengthened by a domestic incident which we record in his own words. "One morning," he says, "the family were all concerned in the reading of a letter from America, where some of my stepmother's relatives had gone to push their fortune. Those relatives said they loved me; they also promised to send for me when I was big. The Americans seem to like big people and big things; and perhaps that accounted for the saving clause which gave me not a little trouble. At last, I became as uncharitable as to suppose they knew I never would be "big"--at least, they never sent for me. Yet the incident was not lost on me; for though I did not get to America, I got to school."

That

Seeing he could not reach the better feelings of those abroad, he applied all the eloquence he could command at home, until his desire was somewhat gratified. He says, "At last my father consented, notwithstanding the many difficulties which stood in the way-difficulties the power of which none but the poor weaver and a suffering family can know. was to me an important day, on which I received my A B C card and the twopenny fee! With the heart light as the lark at rising day, I left home that morning; and for three months I continued to work in the morning, go to school at ten, and work in the evening. I was often very tired, but I was glad. Soon I became the teacher's pet. He would pat me on the head and say, I would soon become the best scholar in his school. And then he had such a gem of a wife, who loved me as if I had been her own child—a mild woman, full of calm dignity and common sense. We all loved her, and I am glad I was able to do her the last favour she needed on earth."

This "joyous prosperity" reached the climax at the end of the third month. He says, "The master added to my joy

when he pronounced me ready for the Bible and Collection. I soon transmitted this news to my parents; but imagine my disappointment and grief when I was told there was no money to purchase the books, and that I must leave school, and give all my time to the pirn wheel! But grief was somewhat modified by my father assuring me he was glad to find that his effort to give me a few weeks at the school was not fruitless. I should have been thankful, and perhaps I was, but I was sorrowful too. Of this I am sure, I was anxious to retain what I had received of the ability to read. This was done by the purchasing of little story-books with the halfpence I had given me by those who came to see me at the wheel. It was my delight to follow out the 'magic paths of the nursery tales.' No miser could hunt for gold with deeper interest than I tried to trace what to me were the absorbing incidents of ‘Jack, the Giant Killer,' Cock Robin,' the 'Babes in the Wood,' and all the other little books I could obtain."

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THE YOUNG WEAVER'S" STUDY.

In the course of time our young friend was raised from the "weary wheel" to the dubious elevation of the "sickening loom." Here at the very outset of his "ascent in the labour scale," an almost insurmountable difficulty presented itself, but even as early as this, he proved the truth of one of his favourite phrases-that "difficulties are not impossibilities." He was so young and so little that he could not, without assistance, either reach the cloth and yarn beams or trample the treddles; but by the aid of an ingenious erection and heavy clogs he was able to proceed.

It does not seem that this "elevation," from the wheel to the loom, added to his physical comfort; but it enabled him to help the family, and that was a gratification of no ordinary nature. Because of the sad state of his father's health, the

family-especially at this severe time, and after-were often reduced to the direst poverty. Referring to one of those "terrible times," our young friend says, "So severe were our sufferings, that I have known three weeks pass without a penny coming in save what I worked for. How could this keep life in a whole family? During such times of hard pressure I have worked twenty-four hours on ends-and that on a few tablespoonfuls of pease-meal made into what we called brose. Often have I heard my father groaning with pain while the poor children were crying in vain for food."

And yet he, almost in the same breath, assures us, that "It was not all darkness;" that a ray of hope forced its way into this home, imparting a little grateful joy. His desire to learn was inextinguishable. Amid excessive toil and the severe pangs of starvation, he thought of self-culture and applied. whatever likely means were within his reach. He had somewhere met with this couplet

"Despair of nothing, good you would attain ;
Unwearied diligence your point will gain."

These words would come to him again and again, especially when greatly depressed and almost overcome, strengthening him for the unequal fight against all but overwhelming circumstances. Whenever there was the least opportunity—when the high pressure of cutting want would permit-he devoted to reading his few spare moments, and gradually became more and more interested in learning the elements of what is called school education.

His description of his "first study" which he at this time occupied, is somewhat picturesque. He says, "Had you entered the village of Lochee, near Dundee, and gone along the South-road, till you came to a long row of low-roofed thatched houses, and entered the second door from the west, you would have seen a four-loomed shop in the one end, and