Pausing now a moment to catch his breath, he looked about him. Dim as was the light of the fast-falling evening, he could not help giving an exclamation of delight at the view he beheld.
To the west of him he saw the twinkling lights of several villages, through which he had already passed. To the north, there was a vast stretch of land, shrouded in darkness. To the south was the Sound, its tossing waves capped with white, its islands like so many gems on the bosom of the angry waters.
“It must be a beautiful place to live in, and I hope to find a home here,” he remarked, as he resumed his journey.
A few rods farther he reached a farmhouse
and turned up to its nearest door. As he was about to knock, a man came from the barn-yard, a little distance away, and accosted him.
“Good-evening!”
“Good-evening!” responded the boy. Then he asked, “Is this Mr. Noman?”
“No, I’m Mr. Goodenough,” answered the man, pleasantly. “Noman lives on the adjoining farm. You will have to turn into the next gateway and go down the lane, as his house stands some distance from the road.”
“I was told,” explained the boy, “that he wished to hire help, and I hoped to get work there. Could you tell me what the prospect is?”
The man had now reached the boy’s side, and was looking him over with evident curiosity.