given me two
tickets to set on the steamboat? There's nothing mean about this town!"

Nelson made no remark; but he thought, for the fiftieth time, that his
farm was too near the city. Tim was picking up all the city boys' false
pride as well as their slang. Unconscious Tim resumed his tune. He knew
that it was "Annie Rooney" if no one else did, and he mangled the notes
with appropriate exhilaration.

Now, the river was as busy as the land, lights swimming hither and
thither; steamboats with ropes of tiny stars bespangling their dark bulk
and a white electric glare in the bow, low boats with lights that sent
wavering spear-heads into the shadow beneath. The bridge was a blazing
barbed fence of fire, and beyond the bridge, at the point of the island,
lay a glittering multitude of lights, a fairy fleet with miniature sails
outlined in flame as if by jewels.

Nelson followed Tim. The crowds, the ceaseless clatter of tongues and
jar of wheels, depressed the man, who hardly knew which way to dodge
the multitudinous perils of the thoroughfare; but Tim used his elbows to
such good purpose that they were out of the levee, on the steamboat, and
settling themselves in two comfortable chairs in a coign of vantage on
deck, that commanded the best obtainable view of the pageant, before
Nelson had gathered his wits together enough to plan a path out of the
crush.

"I sized up this place from the shore," Tim sighed complacently, drawing
a long breath of relief; "only jest two chairs, so we won't be crowded."

Obediently, Nelson took his chair. His head sank on his thin chest.
Richards or himself, which should he sacrifice? So the weary old
question droned through his brain. He felt a tap on his shoulder. The
man who roused him was an acquaintance, and he stood smiling in the
attitude of a man about to ask a favor, while the expectant half-smile
of the lady on his arm hinted at the nature of the favor. Would Mr.
Forrest be so kind?--there seemed to be no more seats. Before Mr.
Forrest could be kind Tim had yielded his own chair and was off,
wriggling among the crowd in search of another place.

"Smart boy, that youngster of yours," said the man; "he'll make his way
in the world, he can push. Well, Miss Alma, let me make you acquainted
with Mr. Forrest. I know you will be well entertained by him. So, if
you'll excuse me, I'll get back and help my wife wrestle with the kids.
They have been trying to see which will fall overboard f