That model, sir, was Jem Wright's pride ; he
had lain awake nights thinking of it, until the
doctors told him he would grow dazed. He
believed that if he could once work out his scheme,
it would supersede the present system of locomotion.
He had dreams of becoming great, and
known to the whole world, if he could only get
his model completed. We parted at the door of
his cottage, and very soon afterwards Miss Mabel
was left twice an orphan. She lost him who had
been more than a father to her. Though she
was amply provided for in his will, the interest
of her life seemed gone. And it was a sad day
for us all, when she left the great house, and
became the guest of the minister.

The doors of the great house soon became as
narrow as the heart of Henry North who lived in
it, and were never opened either to rich or poor.
He had no feeling for others, no object or interest
in life. I have many a time seen him on the
East Terrace there, smoking his pipe and leaning
over the wall, while his agent, a hard-headed
Scotchman, ground down his factory men. He
never had a thought to try and advance the
interests or relieve the wants of those who had
seen him grow up among them, and who loved
even him someways, for his father's sake.

Once he had a gentleman come down on
business, who, I have heard say, was something
of a judge in foreign parts, and he chanced to
come to Jem's cottage while he and I was
smoking our pipes, to ask the way to the factory.
Seeing the little model in the corner, he
says: " That's an ingenious toy; what do
you call it?" and when Jem, quite pleased,
goes on to explain, he answers, in a
lecturing sort of a way, " Depend upon it,
young man, you can turn your talents to far
better use than this. Men must have received
an education before they can think of such a
thing as making a noise in the world." But he
did not know as Jem had more learning
than many a gentleman who has been taught at
a big school. Jem's father was one of the sort
who spend their money at the beer-shop, and
he never considered the good of his son, but
whenever Jem could earn a few pence, he
would pay for schooling. The real first Mr.
North hears this, and puts him to the
grammar-school, and he soon becomes a member
of the Lending Library, and every book he
could get hold of he would read half the night.
He was so wild after poetry, that during
dinner-hour at the factory he would scratch
down bits of verse. A gentleman got hold of
some, which he sent to the county paper, and
soon Jem become what they call a contributor,
and his mind seemed to dwell on the thought
that some day he might rise. And he would
say to me, " And then, John, who knows but that
I may be happy, man?"

It was a cold nipping day, with the snow
beating in our faces, as I was standing by him,
he a saying this, when a carriage dashes past
us in the High-street. I knew from the colour
in his face that Miss Mabel was in it. He
had never told me the secret of his life, but he
knowed well that I understood it. I was just
leaving him, when one of our factory hands
touched him on the shoulder, and said, " Hast
heard the news, lad? The young squire is
going to be married to Miss Mabel." He
answered wildly that he was late for his work,
and ran from us like one crazed.

I waited till all was quiet in the town, and
then I went to his cottage. The door was
fastened. I knocked, but got no answer, so I
thought he was gone to bed. I returned to
my house. I heard from his own lips long
afterwards what happened to him that night.

After bearing with, the moans of his old mother
till she went to bed, he sat over the fire; burying
his head in his hands, he gazed into the few
flickering embers which alone broke the darkness
of the room. The little unfinished model
was in its old accustomed corner by his side, and
he almost savagely grasped his head as he
thought: " What do these miserable brains
avail me? I have gloried in having an
intellect. I have vainly hoped that, through it,
I might break the chains of this poverty by
which I am fettered, and which make it an
idle dream to aspire to anything beyond daily
drudgery. Now, I am alive to the truth, at
last, that money can do what intellect is powerless
to achieve without it. Why should I be
ground down by poverty, while he, young North,
with his slothful indolence, has all which could
make this world a paradise to me?" While
he was thus musing, his head sunk lower, and
he crouched down over the dying embers, uttering
a groan of despair.

He was startled all of a sudden by a voice in
his ear, saying: " So, Jem, you think you could
order things much better than the Almighty!
I offer you a bargain. Will you sign a paper
agreeing to give the young squire your intellect,
in exchange for his property and money?"

Jem started, and, turning round, saw, peering
over his shoulder, to his surprise, the grim
face of the Scotch agent, who had never before
entered his cottage, except to collect the rent.
He answered angrily: " Am I not miserable
enough, without your coming to mock me with
messages from Henry North, who has all the
happiness denied to me, and to which I have
vainly aspired?"

Said the agent: " The young squire is the
most wretched of beings; all his money cannot
procure him what he wants; and he will give
you his wealth and all his worldly advantages
if you will give him your brains. This is why
I am here. Come; sign the paper, and your
part is done. Leave the rest to me."

He held the pen to Jem, who, scarce knowing
what he does, puts it to the paper, and then
sees, in large distinct letters,

JAMES WRIGHT.

A vague horror seemed to creep over him.
He had read of a man who sold his shadow to
the devil, and who for ever afterwards was a
prey to remorse. But then, he argued, " this cannot
not be the same thing. Here is no compact with