"I did not return to school that winter, but studied at home with my mother; and I must say I found her a more able and interesting teacher than my tutor at P—. Perhaps, however, my rapid progress was owing in part to the fact that I had now a motive for all I did. Be that as it might, when I returned to school in the spring, I was placed two classes in advance of that in which I had been before. I worked hard and gained great credit, and before the end of my stay I had established as good a character as any boy in the school."
"The menagerie to which I had been attached, visited our village the very next summer, and I went to see my old friends the lions and carry them some bread and cake. My mates received me with great kindness and congratulated me on my return home. Captain Stokes told me that he had some idea at the time that my story was not true, and had therefore kept his eye upon me, meaning, if his suspicions were justified, to return me safely to my friends."
"He looked worn and sickly, and Mr. Bangs told me privately that he was killing himself with drink. Bob and Polly knew me again directly, even without the aid of the cakes I had brought them, and showed as much pleasure at seeing me as a couple of dogs would have done. Captain Stokes gave me a beautiful parrot as a parting present, and I never saw him again. He died the next year, and the company was broken up. Mr. Bangs went to New York and set up a riding school, which he taught for many years, till he grew wealthy and retired from business. I was told afterwards that he became a member of the church in his old age, and lived and died a consistent Christian. I was glad to hear it, for he certainly had a great deal of good about him."
"Did you ever hear of the cruel captain again?" asked Agatha.
"Never. He may be living now, but it is not likely. The man who befriended me is now alive, though a very old man, and is a member of my congregation. He would accept of no reward for what he did for me, and my father sent him as a present a fine gold watch and chain, which he still wears."
[CHAPTER V.]
THE SCHOLAR'S STORY.
"I AM sure we are very much obliged to you, sir," said Herbert.
"Boys don't very often turn out well who run away from home," observed the squire. "You were very fortunate to escape as you did. Many a lad who has run away and gone on the canal has either been heard of no more, or, still worse, has grown-up into a ruffian and drunkard."