Boy Wanted

People lauglied when they saw the bill again, It seemed to be „always .in Mr. Petcr's window. For a ilay or two it would be missing, and passers-by woukl wondflr whether Mr. Peters hac at last found a boy to suit him, but sooner or later it was sure to appear again. "Wliat sort of a bov does ho want?" one and another would ask, and thei they would say to each other that thcy supposed he was looking for a perfect boy, and in their opinión he would look a good while belore ho found one. Not that there wero not plenty of boys -as many as a dozen used sometimes to appear in the course of a morning tryingforthc situation. Mr. Pelers was said to be rich and queer, and for one or both of these reasons boys were very anxious to try to suit hiiii. "All he wants is a fellow to run errands; it must be easy work and sure pay." Tuis was the way they talked to eaeh other. But Mr. Peters wantod more than a boy to run erraDds. John Simmons fouud that out, aud this was the way he did it. He had been engaged that very morniug, and had been kept busy all the. foreuoon at ploasaut enough work, and allhough he was a lazy fellow, rather enjoyed the place. It was toward the miil die of the afternoou that he was sent up to the attic, a dark, dingy place inhabited by mice and cobwebs. "Yon will find a long, deep box tbere," said Mr. Peters, "that Í want t- have put iu order. It stands right in the middle of the room; you can't .miss it." John looked doleful. "A long, deep himself as Iho attic door closcd after him. "It would vveigh alniost a ton, I guess. And what is thero in it? Nothing in the world but old nails, and screws, and pifices of iron, and broken kcys and things. Rubbish, the whole of it! Nothing worth touching! And - it is as dark as a pocket up here, and cold besides; how the wind blows in through those holes. There's a ïnouse! If there is anythmg that I hate it's mier! I'll teil you what it is, if old Peters thinks I'ni going to stay up here and tunible over rusty nails, he's inuch mistaken. I wasn't iiired for that kind of work." Whereupon John bounced down tho attic stair3 three at a timo, and was foand lounging in the show window, half an hour after ware!, when Mr. Peters appeared. "Have you put that box in order already?" was the gentleman 's question. "1 didn't lind anything to put in order; there vas nothing in it but nails and things."' "Exactlv it was the 'nails and tilines' that I wanted put in order; did you do it?" "No, sir; it was dark up there, and cold; and I didn't see anything worth doing; besides, 1 thought I was hired to run errands." "O," said Mr. Peters, "I thought you were hired to do as vouwere toícl." But he smiled pleasantly enourh and at once gave John an errand to do down town. The boy went off chuekling, declaring to bimself that he knew how to manage the old fellow; all it needed was a little standing up for your rights. Preeisely at six o'clock John was ealled and paid the sum promised hin for aday's work; and then to his dismay, he was tokt that his services would not be needed any more. He asked no questions; indeed, he had time for none, as Mr. Peters immediatelv closed the door. The next morning the old bill, "Boy Wanted," appeared in its usual place. Befofe noon il was taken down, and Charlie Jones was the fortúnate bov. Errands, plenty of them; he was kopt busy until within an hour of clo3ing. Then, behold, ho was sent to the attie to put the long box in order. He was not afraid of a mouse, nor of the cold, but he grumbled wuch over that box; nutaiug in it worth his attention, However, he tumbled over the things, growling all the time, picked out a few straight nitils, a key or two, and finally appeared down stairs wiih this message: '-Here's all there is worth keeping in tbat old box; all the rest of the nails are riii-ty, and the hooks aro bent, or something. " 'Vury wcll.'1 said Mr. Peters, and sent him to tho postoflice. What do you think? By the close of the next day Cliarlie had been paid and discliHTged, and the old bül hung in the window. 'l've no kind of a notion why I was dischargcd," grumbled Charlie to his mother. "He said he had no fault to iind, only he saw that I wouldn't suit U's my opinión he doesn't want a boyat all!" it was Crawford Mills who was hired next. He knew neither of the other boys, and so did bis errands in blissful ignorance of the "long box'' until the Becond morning, whenir. a leisure hour he was sent to put it in order. The morning pased, dinnjr-time came, anJ still Crawford had not appeared from the attic. At last Mr. Peters called him: "Got throughi"' 'No, sir; there is ever so mueh more todo,"' '¦All riarlit; itis dinner-time now; you may g backto it after dinner." After dinner back he went. All the short afternoon he was not heard from, but just as Mr. Peters was deciding to cali him againhe appeared. 'l've done rny best, sir," he said, "and down in the very bottoni of the box I found this.' "This" was a gold sovereign. "Thafs a queer place for gold," said Mr. Peters. "It's good you found i t. Well, sir, I suppose you will be here to-morrow morning?" This he said as he was putting thé gold in his pocketbook. After Crawford had said good night and gone, Mr. Peters took the lantern and went slowly up the attic stairs. There was the long, deep box, in which the rubbish of twenty-iive years had gathered, Crawford had evidently been at the bottom of it. He had fitted in pieces of shinglc to make compartrnents, and in these different spaces he had p.aced tho anieles, with bits of shinglo laid on top, and labelled thur: "Good screws." "Pretty good nails." "Picture nails." "Smalï keys, somewhat bent.' "Picture hooks," "Pieces of iron, whose use I don't know." So on through the long box. In perfect order it was at last, but very littlo that could be called useful could be found within it But Mr. Peters, as he went over the labels laughed gleefully, and murmured to tho mioe, "If we are not both mistaken, I have found a boy, andhe bas found a fortune." Sino enough, the bilí dissappeared from the Window, and was seen no moro.Jrawford became the well-knovvD errand-boy of the firm of Peters & Co. Ho hada little room neatly fittednp, next to the attic, where he spent his evenings, and at tho foot of the bed hung a motto which Mr. Peters gave him, "It tells your fortuno for you, don't fcriret it," he said when he handed it to Crawford, and the boy laughed, and read it curioualy: "He that is failhful in that which is least is faithful also in much." "l'll Iry to be, sir," he said, and he never once thought of tho long box over which h! had been faithful. "All this happened yoars ago. Crawford Mills is errand ¦boy no more, but the iirm is Peters, Milis & Co. A young man and a rich man. "He found his fortune in a long box of rubbish." Mr. Poters said once, laughing "Neverwas a sovertign so successful in business as that one of his has been; it is good he found it." Then after a moment of silence he said gravely, "No, he didn't; he found it in his mother's bible. 'He that is faithful in that whieh is least, is faithful also in nmeh.' "