Arthur Hamilton, and His Dog - 7

So the lads rode on till noon; and when the sun shone out warmly, the
forest-trees looked more magnificent in its golden light, than King
Solomon in all his glory. There was the crimson-leaved maple, and the
yellow beach, and the variegated oak, mingled with the fresh green
hemlocks and pines. There was something in the quiet, and deep stillness
of the woods, which made the boys silent, as they rode through; they
felt the influence of its exceeding beauty, though they could not have
expressed it in words; for God always speaks to us through his works,
and if we will listen to the voice, our hearts will be softened, and
pleasant and profitable thoughts will arise.

It was two in the afternoon, when John and Arthur reached Mr. Martin's.
He was not at home, but Mrs. Martin received them kindly, saying, "she
expected they would come that day." She was a grave-looking old lady,
who wore spectacles, and the inquisitive manner in which she looked over
the top of them into Arthur's face, quite frightened the little fellow,
and he could only reply in very low monosyllables to the questions she
asked him; so John gave her such information as she desired. Mrs. Martin
showed them the small chamber in which Arthur was to sleep, and John
carried up the wooden box, and put it down in one corner. After staying
half an hour, John thought he must go. A sense of the loneliness of his
situation among strangers, where no one familiar voice would be heard,
and not one familiar object seen, came over the heart of poor Arthur
with such force at this moment, that he burst into a flood of tears,
exclaiming--

"Oh, don't leave me here, John! don't leave me, I cannot stay." Brushing
the tears from his own eyes, John drew the sobbing child out into the
yard, saying, as he put his arms affectionately about his neck,--