  Old Jones, the sexton, toiled slowly up to the Rectory one winter morning. He had a sad tale to tell, and the ground was heavy with snow, and poor old Jones's heart was full of a great sorrow. The Rectory lay cosily among the sheltering trees, and gleamed warm and cheerful beneath the gloomy skies. Mr. Chillingworth, the Rector, was a good man, and greatly beloved by the people in the parish of Redhall. Old Jones, as I have said, was the sexton; and he tried his best, with very small success, to keep all the village boys in awe of him. He always went, with them, by the name of "old red Johnnie," for he wore a red woollen comforter through winter's cold and summer's heat. He had a champion in one boy, however, called Toddie Banks; for you see poor Toddie was an orphan, and old Jones had been very kind to him when he was just a wee toddling laddie, had taken him to his own home, and treated him like a son, for the old man had neither kith nor kin, wife nor child, so Toddie was all of them put together to him. And now Toddie had been missing for a whole day and night, and Jones had no doubt he had fallen over a precipice, or been lost in some deep snowdrift, for, you must know, Toddie was a bit of a naturalist, and used to take long walks in search of any curiosities he might find. The poor old man had never been in his bed the whole of the previous night, but had been searching everywhere, helped by some kindly neighbors. When Mr. Chillingworth understood the whole story, he at once volunteered to go in search of Toddie, accompanied by his splendid Newfoundland dog, Neptune. "Cheer up, Jones," he said in his kindly way. "Neptune and I will do our best, with the blessing of God, to find your darling. Go home now, and have everything prepared, in case we find him overcome in the snow." Neptune was perfectly aware that he and his master were to find Toddie, so he bounded on gayly before Mr. Chillingworth. They had not proceeded many yards before Neptune suddenly stopped, and, listening intently, galloped furiously in the direction of a stream that in summer time was a favorite haunt of Toddie's. On reaching the water he stood still, and, uttering a long, sorrowful howl, remained, evidently waiting for his master. Mr. Chillingworth hastened up; and there was Toddie, lying to all appearance quite dead. In scrambling up the river bank he had been apparently overcome by the deadly cold and sleep from which few ever waken to life again. He had a bunch of scarlet berries in his hand, and it was pathetic to see the cold stiff fingers still clutching their treasure. Being so near the Rectory, Mr. Chillingworth just lifted the lad and bore him rapidly to his house. What was his joy, after half an hour's untiring effort to revive him, to see Toddie slowly open his eyes, and, by the time old Jones and his neighbors reached the Rectory, Toddie was able to sit up and relate his experiences. It was as the Rector thought; in reaching after the berries he fell, and remembered nothing afterwards. Poor old Jones and Toddie were heroes ever after that, and I am glad to say the village boys ceased to call him "old red Johnnie."
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