Now it had happened three years before, that a poor young man of the name of Simpson had been saved from drowning by Amy's father. I fear that the young man had thrown himself into the water because he was sick of life, but I dare say he was glad enough to be pulled out.
Mr. Cooper took him home, gave him a room and a bed, and there Mr. Simpson staid for some time. He was what is called an artist. He had a great talent for drawing with a pen and ink. He taught Amy to do this. She soon did it so well, that he said to her, "Keep on trying, my dear, and it may be a great help to you by and by."
Sure enough she did keep on trying. Her one thought was to do so well that she could make money by her art. Poor Mr. Simpson died after he had staid with the honest fisherman two years; and his last words to Amy were, "Keep on practising, my dear: don't let a day pass without it. I am sure you will make an artist."

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