ady.

The husband and father was left desolate. His purest and fondest hopes
were blighted; but, while he was submissive to the will of the Father,
who doeth all things well, he became gloomy and sad. He was not seen to
smile for a year after the death of his daughter, and it was three years
before he had recovered even the outward semblance of his former
cheerfulness. He was rich, but alone in the world. He continued to
reside in the home which was endeared to him by the memories of his
loved and lost ones.

When his wife's sister died in poverty, leaving two children, he had
taken them to his home, and had become a father to them. Harry Martyn
was a good boy, and Josephine Martyn was a good girl; but they were not
his own children. There was something wanting--an aching void which they
could not fill, though Mr. Lowington was to them all that could be asked
or expected of a parent.

Mr. Lowington busied himself in various studies and experiments; but
life had ceased to be what it was before the death of his wife and
daughter. He wanted more mental occupation; he felt the need of greater
activity, and he was tempted to return to the navy, even after his
absence of ten years from the service; but this step, for many reasons,
was not practicable. At the time when his garden was invaded by the
vandal students from the Brockway Academy, he was still thinking what he
could do to save himself from the inglorious life of ease he was
leading, and, at the same time, serve his country and his race.

Shuffles had robbed his garden of some of his choicest fruit; had struck
his nephew a severe blow on the head, and threatened to inflict still
greater chastisement upon him in the future. Mr. Lowington was justly
indignant; and his own peace and the peace of the neighborhood demanded
that the author of the mischief should be punished, especially as he was
an old transgressor. It was absolutely necessary that something should
be done, and the retired naval officer was in the right frame of mind to
do it. Just then, when he was wrought up to the highest pitch of
indignation, his anger vanished. Shuffles at sixteen was the counterpart
of himself at fifteen.

This was certainly no reason why the hand of justice should be stayed.
Mr. Lowington did not intend to stay it, though the thought of his own
juvenile depravity modified his view, and appeased his wrath. He put on
his hat and left the house. He walked over to the Academy, and b