"It is decidedly refreshing in these days to come across such a fellow as that!" he said, enthusiastically. "Why, I believe I feel twenty years younger for coming in contact with him! Self-sacrifice, energy, honesty, determination, calculation and modesty! Hem, it wont take a college to put him ahead in the world. But," he added, musingly, "I would like to see him there; he ought to have the best possible chance, he would do credit to it. But this pretty brother of hisI've seen him walking once or twice with May-I wonder if he's worth the sacrifice that's made for him? Ten chances to one he's a spooney."

Judge Atherton was rather surprised that May did not question him the next morning concerning his late visitor. He was very glad, however, that she did not, for he had promised to keep the matter secret, and he knew from past experience how next to impossible it would be to do so if she set herself to coaxing him. But she never alluded to it ever so remotely, a circumstance that puzzled him not a little, the more because he had taken a very great fancy to the young man, and he was often in his mind.

Well, Commencement Day came, and with a thrill of pride and satisfaction Mr. and Mrs. Chase saw their favorite son entered as a candidate for collegiate honors. If there was any pinnacle of greatness yet unsealed by grace and genius-any summit unattainable to human effort, Mrs. Chase, in her secret heart, believed that on such summit or pinnacle her gifted and handsome Gustavus Washington would probably stand. Ah me! what glowing dreams filled the heavens with prophecy! What a beautiful hope and faith it was that freighted this fair ship sailing out of the old home-harbor so grandly and triumphantly!

Of John, who had made this possible, there was no time to think. They knew he had hired the money, and was to pay it back in work. "Well, John couldn't ever be anything but a worker," they said, complacently, "and this was all in his way. But Gustavus, ah, he was so different!"

Time, the remorseless monarch, ran steadily on, sublimely unconscious that the months and years he ruled off so rapidly did not bring all the rich fruition Hope had whispered they would.

Gustavus had just entered on his third college year when John received back from

given him. The loan had been paid, every dollar, and as he said when he received the paper from the judge's hands," he belonged to himself, again."

"You are glad, John ?" Atherton asked, himself looking both pleased and sorry.

"Yes, I am glad, because I have had to sit up pretty late to study-I was so busy day and evening-and I think it has worn on me, lately. I cannot afford to lose my health."

"Ah! studying, are you? What sort of a course are you pursuing, if this is not a secret, also?" he asked, with cordial interest. "Well it is, rather," coloring slightly. "That is, the folks at home do not know of it. I do not mind your knowing it, however, since I know you can keep a secret," he added, smiling. "You see, I resolved when my brother went to Williams, to keep up with him in all his studies. Uncle Denning found it out some way-I suppose I must have let something drop that awakened his suspicions --and insisted upon buying me the necessary books, which made it much easier for me.” "Well! and have you kept up with your brother?" Atherton interrupted.

"I have tried to, sir," he answered, modestly. He would not tell the truth, that at each vacation he had been much ahead of Gustavus.

"Tried! that's it, young man. Well, if there is anything in my library that will help you any, you are welcome to the use of it. I like to help those who help themselves," was the cordial answer.

"Thank you. You have been very kind to me, always," was the low-spoken reply, the firm lips grown suddenly tremulous with feeling.

But John Chase never availed himself of the offer; indeed, he never came to the house, though more than once invited by its master. Strangely enough, he seemed to try to avoid all further intercourse or acquaintance with him.

But Gustavus made ample amends for his brother's neglect on this score. He passed more than half the time at the "Oaks," when he was at home for the vacations. Mrs. Chase always spoke of May Atherton as the prospective wife of her favorite son. It is true she sometimes had her doubts if the alliance was "hardly what Gussie might make -of course he could do better." But, ordinarily, she was very well satisfied, and never

upbraided for his coldness in not showing more interest in his brother's welfare. If "only he was a little more like Gussie, what would she not give! He never sulked, nor was envious of others who were more favored than himself."

The third year was something over half out, when one day John received the following letter from Gustavus:

"DEAR JOHN:-I've got into a scrape and you must come on and help me out. Bring the money-I guess a hundred dollars will

do it and come as soon as possible. If it

isn't settled some way, I suppose they'll turn me out, and I don't really like the idea, though, just between you and I, this college business is a stupendous humbug, besides being a bore. However, I guess I can stand one year more. Of course you'll not mention it to the old folks; you've got one merit, anyway, old fellow, you're close-mouthed, and I know you wont refuse to do me so small a favor as this. I'll remember you when I'm master at the Oaks.' Come immediately, and be sure you bring the money. Gus."

6

It was a very sober, pained face that looked up from the reading of that letter. This was not the first "scrape" out of which he had helped the young collegian, and there was a grave doubt in his mind if he was doing just right—if he was not, somehow, accessory to the wrong. Beside, where was the money-the hundred dollars Gustavus spoke of so carelessly-to come from? He was sorely tempted to let him depend on himself, once. But the thought of his father and mother, whose hearts were bound up in his success, nerved him to still another sacrifice. He had managed to lay aside fifty dollars for clothing which he much needed. This he decided at once to take-but where was the other fifty to come from? He sat a moment in thought, and then thrusting the letter into his pocket, arose hastily and went up to his chamber.

“John,” his mother called, just as he was opening his chamber door," it does seem as if you might try to be a little company for your father and me, sometimes! Gussie never shuts himself up like a hermit. But then you never was alike, in anything," she added, with the usual sigh.

John Chase was not a saint, by any means, and just now he was sorely tried. I am not at all ashamed to record that he slammed the door between them-a very decided slam,

too, just at this point. It only had the effect of sending Mrs. Chase off in her usual panegyric of Gustavus Washington's disposition and good qualities, and contrasting them with John's "temper" and general selfish

ness.

John, in the meantime, was bending over a table whereon were spread several unfinished drawings, and long after his mother had forgotten his shortcomings in sleep, he worked steadily and rapidly. It was nearly daylight when he gathered them together, depositing them in a rude portfolio with a sigh of relief.

"They ought to bring that, at least," he said, as he rose and lifted the curtain. It was already growing faintly go den in the east. He must leave in the first train, so there was no time for sleep, even if he could have slept with so busy a brain and so sad a heart.

Reaching Williamstown, almost the first thing he heard was some men talking of the “expulsion of young Chase from college,” that morning, and he also learned in the same way that his offence had been the taking of a check from a fellow-student's letter, and obtaining, and spending the money.

Poor John! He felt as if he should sink into the earth. And this was the end of all his efforts and sacrifices in his behalf!

"I am very sorry on your account, my dear young man," the president said, when he sought him, asking if the verdict was final. "But the offence is too grave to be passed over, or covered up. Besides, it is not his first misdemeanor, and, really, I don't think it benefits him much being here, any way."

Bad news is proverbially swift. When the brothers reached home they found that it had out-travelled them, and everybody knew it. John's face was scarlet with pain and mortification as they walked up the street, but Gustavus was his usual smiling, gay, nonchalant self, feeling more than anything a secret sense of relief that he had got away from college.

The shame, disappointment and sorrow of the parents vanished under the charm of his handsome face, gay speech and debonair imanner. He explained everything so smoothly-" he only borrowed it, lots of fellows did so he was no worse than others. Of course he intended paying it back in a few days, but the old man was a regular mule and wouldn't listen to reason. And, there was no denying but 'twas hard being always short."

And so his parents believed in him, still.

Their pity and sympathy made them blind to his faults-to his disgrace. He had been wronged and unappreciated-but he was their favorite still.

But though he could make all smooth at home, he lost a little of his easy self-confidence when he thought of May Atherton and her father. He had an intuition that they would not be so easily convinced, or look quite so leniently on his transgressions, and he shrank from meeting them. Happily for his repose of mind he hit upon a clever expedient. John should go over and explain things and see how they felt about it. But this John peremptorily refused to do.

"I think you owe me this small favor, John," Gustavus said, in an aggrieved tone, "seeing you didn't get me clear of the other." "I paid the bill," was the quiet answer. "The bill? O yes! But you didn't get me taken back into favor, which was the point. I shall always believe you could if you had tried much. However, it's too late to talk about that. Now about May: I shall think you're glad of some pretence to keep us apart, if you refuse to speak a good word for me. Possibly you think my extremity will be your opportunity," a faint sneer in his

tone.

A sudden fierce red surged up through John Chase's dark cheeks to his forehead, then died away, leaving the thin face deadly pale.

He looked down into the tender anxious face, and she turned away in sudden confusion. Ah, John! with all your skill at secretkeeping, this little girl has read you at a glance.

"Miss Atherton," he began, hastily, "I suppose you have heard about my-my brother's trouble?"

"Yes. I am very sorry for you," she replied, gently.

"I do not think Gustavus meant to do wrongly," he went on with suspicious haste. "He was cramped for means where his companions were not, and he did not stop to think. He is feeling very anxious about the manner you will look at it. I came here to ask you to be as lenient with him as you can. He is young, and perhaps less to blame than we who have indulged him, always. If you could only overlook this, Miss Atherton, and be the same to him-what he hopes and expects you to be, in the future-"

John was not ordinarily nervous, but to night he walked to and fro past the house a dozen times before he could master himself sufficiently to ring the bell at the "Oaks." He was very quiet now, outwardly; only the intense pallor of his face giving any hint of the fearful struggle he was undergoing.

Poor John! He had come to do the hardest thing in the world for a man to do: to plead another man's cause with the woman he himself loved. But it was only one more sacrifice for him-and, well, despite all his weaknesses and follies, he loved him well enough to do it! He was thinking of this when the door opened and May herself stood before him.

"I am so glad to see you!" she exclaimed, extending her hand with a radiant smile, and a very exquisite blush. "Why John-Mr. Chase! You are ill!" she cried in alarm, catching sight of his white face. Involuntarily she put out her hand and grasped his arin.

An hour later and John was saying very gravely to Judge Atherton, who had just come in and discovered the state of affairs:

"I've no excuse to make for my presumption, sir. I thought I could keep my secret I have kept it these three years! I feel so poor, and altogether unworthy of my great happiness-I have so little to give in return."

"I'll tell you what you might do, Jolin," May interrupted, with a gay little laugh, that had somehow the sound of soft tears in it. “You might mortgage yourself again! O don't look so reproachfully at Judge Atherton," she cried, quickly, "he kept your secret inviolate, but I was behind the curtains in the bay window, all the time, and," laughing and blushing again, "I think then was when I fell in love with you, John."

Half a dozen years have passed away, and to-day the special pride of Judge Atherton's heart is "son John," as he invariably calls May's husband.

John Denning altered his will and gave

"STAND, stranger, and give an account of yourself!"

I was returning from a tour of collection in the northern mines, and with a large amount of gold-dust in my saddle-bags, was urging my tired horse over an unfrequented road lying through the wildest part of the Trinity Mountains, when I was abruptly greeted with the salutation I have quoted. I was not alarmed by it, however; for although it proceeded from the mouth of as rough-looking a man as one would wish to encounter on a lonely byway, there was a heartiness in its tone which assured me of its entire friendliness. With a broad goodnatured smile upon his bronzed and heavilybearded visage, the speaker advanced, laid one hand upon my bridle-rein, and the other upon the pommel of my saddle, and with a look of inquiry awaited my response.

66

"Good-evening," said I. "Do you often stop travellers in this manner? I should think there would be a risk in it sometimes, especially if you should chance to encounter a nervous man."

"No," said he, laughing, "I don't often do so. Few travellers come this way, and I'm not always in a familiar mood when they do happen along. Just now I have a longing for company, and if you will do me the honor to share my poor cabin to-night, I'll do what I can to make you comfortable. I assure you it's the best thing you can do, for it's yet a good fifteen miles to the river, and there is no certainty that you can cross when you get there. The ferry rope was broken yesterday, and part of it lost, and I don't think they've had time to replace it. You look like a man who would swim fast enough in an emergency, but I would not advise you to try old Trinity to-night on that horse-he appears as if he had done more than a fair day's work already. Just consent to put up with my bachelor's fare and my garrulity— for I'm in one of my talkative moods and must have a confidant-and you shall be as welcome, if not so well taken care of, as you would be if you were safe in the Mountain House with old Peters."

I was tired, and so was my horse; I liked this man's frank hospitality, the manner of which was not rare in the mines a dozen years ago; I knew I would be safe under his roof, notwithstanding the valuable contents of my saddle-bags; and, divining from his appearance and manner that his was an extraordinary character, I was curious to see a little more of him. These considerations prompted me to respond:

"Well, sir, if you think my company worth the trouble I shall put you to, I accept your hospitality with thanks. I presume you live not far from here, Mr.-what shall I call you ?"

"Endicott is my name-Gardner Endicott," he replied; 66 names better known in Massachusetts than in this wilderness. Perhaps you have heard them ?"

"I certainly have, I answered; "they are historical. My own name is a more commonplace one-George Wilson."

"As good a name as my own, Mr. Wilson. though it is perhaps more common. But names are nothing. The respectable ones I bear do not prevent me from being the bete noir-the black sheep-of my family."

Over the smile which still played upon his face as he uttered these last words, there came a shade of weariness and sadness pitiful to see, telling of some hidden pain gnawing at the heart, and only kept from stronger manifestation by a struggle. But the expression was gone in an instant; and but that I had so plainly observed it, I would not have dreamed that the hearty and hilarious tone in which he next addressed me was forced.

"Come along, then," said he; "I'll wager that you haven't dined to-day, and it will take me some time to prepare supper, for I suspect Tom has let my fire go out. We shall talk to better advantage after we have refreshed ourselves."

"You have a companion, then?" I remarked, interrogatively, as he led the way, I following.

"Yes, a cat, and a jolly good companion he is, too. Takes care of the house when I'm gone, and makes himself sociable when I'm