well as for our souls, and in his prayer he gave abundant thanks to
the Saviour who had so graciously preserved him.

The morrow came. Grandpapa had quite recovered his accident of the
preceding day, and after reading in the summer-house, he got up to go
and see old George.

Francis, who was observing him from beneath the verandah, no sooner
saw him come near the little gate, than he ran round the house to
hide himself behind a hazel bush, a short distance from the pavement,
in order to see what his Grandpapa would do.

Grandpapa walked on towards the orchard, and as soon as he set his
foot on the path, he prepared to proceed very carefully. He took
three or four steps, and then suddenly stopped, and raising his
hands, exclaimed, a "pavement! a pavement here already! How does this
happen? Who could have done this? It must be my faithful Thomas!"--he
continued--"I must thank him for it;" and he called out loudly,
"Thomas! Thomas!" Thomas, who was in the cow-house, heard his voice,
and ran to him in alarm.

"Have you tumbled again, sir," he asked anxiously?

"On the contrary," said Grandpapa, "thanks to _you_, Thomas,
for having made this good substantial pavement so quickly and so
well; it is really excellent," said he, stamping upon it with his
foot, and walking over it in every direction. "It is solid, and even,
and slopes on either side! I am very much obliged to you, Thomas."

"Alas! sir," said the man, "it is not I who did it--how vexed I am