There was an earnest directness in the boy's manner Mrs. Gilman could not evade. She had never before alluded to her husband's weakness to one of his children. It was hard now, but it was right Sam should know all.

“You can remember, Sam, when we were all a great deal happier; before father took to going to the corner every day. You know how he comes home night after night, and how bad company has changed him. Bill Colcord has followed him every where, and has persuaded him into this. If father has you with him, he'll think of us oftener, and perhaps it will keep him from doing a great many things Colcord might lead him into. You are old enough to know what's right and what's wrong."

"I ought to, mother, when I've had you to tell me ever since I was a baby."

"God knows I've tried to do my duty," Mrs. Gilman said, clasping her hands together, "I've tried, Sam, and I'm trying now, though it's hard to see whether it's right to send you away with that bad man. But it must be! Look out for your father just as I would. Keep right yourself, and then he will listen to you. But it's all in

your Bible; and you won't forget to read it, will you ? You say your prayers, don't you, like a good boy?"

"Sometimes I forget till I am almost asleep," the boy confessed honestly. "But I don't sleep half so well, I think, or wake up so good natured at any rate. When is father going-does he know you want me to ?"

"Not yet, but we must not mind that-Colcord won't want you. Something tells me you ought to. Sam, I only want you to make me one promise. Never to touch a drop of any thing that could hurt you-you know what I mean, any spirit, and keep father from it as much as you can. You will, won't you ?”

"I never tasted spirit yet, mother, and I never will, so long as I can remember to-night. I'll swear it on the Bible if you want me to."

"No, I don't ask that, only your promise. If you wouldn't keep a solemn promise, you wouldn't keep an oath. And never let yourself get lazy. People sit 'round and do nothing, and so they are tempted to drink just to pass away the time, and most men who will drink, will swear or do any thing else. I don't say all

will;" and a painful flush rose to the poor woman's forehead as she thought of her misguided husband, "but it leads into mischief they never would think of or consent to in their sober senses. Don't be afraid of hard work. I never was, and

If one kind of

my father was called well off. work is not handy do something else, it keeps away bad thoughts, and hard thoughts too, sometimes."

It seemed that Mrs. Gilman could not bear to leave her son. It was the first time she had ever opened her heart to him at all. He was too young to understand half its silent loneliness and care; but he loved her better than anybody in the world, and was ready to do any thing or promise any thing that would make her look happier. He did not get asleep for a long time after she went away, though the candle had burnt out, and the snow sifting against the window made it very dark. He turned over the pillow, and drew up the quilt, but it was no use. To any boy of his age, the novelty of going to sea would have been exciting. And California! -he knew as much about it as any of his elders and betters. The boys had been talking about

མ

it once, as they helped Ben Chase shell a double quantity of corn, so that he could go skating with them after school, Monday; and boasting, as boys will, of what they would do, if they could only get there! How astonished they would be to find he was going! He could not help feeling very. important, and suddenly improved almost to man's estate, even in his own eyes. Then his imagination rambled on to a very distant and undefined future. How he would come home with piles and piles of gold-great bags full, and give five to his mother, and one to each of the girls, and buy back the farm. Whether he should put the old house in splendid order, or build a new one, he could not quite make up his mind. But there would be time enough for that. One thing was certain. His mother should have every thing she wanted, and never do another bit of work, if she didn't choose to. His mother's troubled face brought him back very suddenly to the present. He understood better than ever he did before, how many things she must have to worry her, especially about his father. He thought about this a long time, and made new resolution to keep his promise, and be very good

and industrious. His good resolves were a little confused and misty at the last, mixed with wandering thoughts about the ship, for he had never seen one, and Ben Chase's new skates, which had been the object of his highest ambition three hours before. Then he slept as soundly as if the whole plan of his life had not been changed that eventful day; unconscious of the hardships, the trials, and the temptations that were to mark every step of his future path through boyhood.

He

So it happened that our young hero, as his mother had said, like a prince in some marvellous fairy tale, "went out to seek his fortune. had no "shoes of swiftness," or "invisible cap," nor yet the "purse of Fortunatus," that he expected to find. But he carried a light heart, willing hands, and a determination to do right, whatever happened, "three gifts" that perhaps could bring him as much in the end.