said the gentleman, "I am a lawyer. Are you going to be one?"

"I am," said the boy. "Will you tell me what books I ought to buy? I
have two dollars."

The other looked at him with keen light eyes. "That amount will not buy
you many books," he said. "You should enter some lawyer's office where
you may have access to his library. You spoke of the Three-Notched Road.
Are you from Albemarle?"

"Yes, sir. I am Gideon Rand's son."

"Indeed! Gideon Rand! Then Mary Wayne was your mother?"

"Yes, sir."

"I remember," said the gentleman, "when she married your father. She was
a beautiful woman. I heard of her death while I was in Paris."

The boy's regard, at first solely for the books, had been for some
moments transferred to the gentleman who, it seemed, was a lawyer, and
had known his people, and had been to Paris. He saw a tall man, of a
spare and sinewy frame, with red hair, lightly powdered, and keen blue
eyes. Lewis Rand's cheek grew red, and his eyes at once shy and eager.
He stammered when he spoke. "Are you from Albemarle, sir?"

The other smiled, a bright and gracious smile, irradiating his ruddy,
freckled face. "I am," he said.

"From--from Monticello?"

"From Monticello." The speaker, who loved his home with passion, never
uttered its name without a softening of the voice. "From Monticello," he
said again. "There are books enough there, my lad. Some day you shall
ride over from the Three-Notched Road, and I will show you them."

"I will come," said Lewis Rand. The colour deepened in his face and a
moisture troubled his vision. The shop, the littered counter, the
guardian of the books, and President Washington's Secretary of State
wavered like the sunbeam at the door.

Jefferson ran his hand over the row of books. "Mr. Smith, give the lad
old Coke, yes, and Locke on Government, and put them to my
account.--Where do you go to school?"

The boy swallowed hard, straightened his shoulders, and looked his
questioner in the face. "Nowhere, sir--not now. My father hates
learning, and I work in the fields. I am very much obliged to you for
the books,--and had I best buy Blackstone with the two dollars?"

The other smiled. "No, no, not Blackstone. Blackstone's frippery. You've
got old Coke. Buy for yourself some book that shall mean much to you all
your life.--Mr. Smith, give him Plutarch's Lives--Ossian, too. He's rich
enough to buy Ossian.--As for law-books, my lad, if you will come to
Monticello, I will l