ot a thousand fold more deserving of
such an interposition than he? He reflected on this point till his
brain was in a whirl; the more he pondered the matter, the darker it
seemed.

"I am called," he reasoned, "to keep by the family if I never see
brighter days--that's the meaning of her words, and the demands of my
lot. Am I ready to do this--to be true to duty, if it involves, as it
has to her, poverty, seclusion from privileges, toil, suffering,
obscurity?"

He knew that he ought thus to decide, and to decide cheerfully. But he
could not. He tried again and again to reach the decision only to
recoil from it. His will was powerless to calm the rebellion within.
Ah, the pioneer's ragged son had been precipitated into a solemn moral
crisis, which tested him, and showed him how weak he was! The tumult
of feeling, and sharpness of the battle, had, at length, cast him into
utter despair, when his mother's remark concerning his father's
mistake in setting about getting rich by the strength of his own will,
abruptly recurred to him.

"What did she mean by that?" he asked; and he sat bolt upright in bed
to consider the point.

He could not, however, quite master the idea, and wished his mother
was awake, that she might explain herself. Then his mind returned to
the subject, and lo, the mist rolled away, and the truth shone out.

"I see it: father should have sought direction and strength of God.
And that is just what I ought to do. He can give me grace to perform
my duty,--yes, even to choose it."

And Tom, under the inspiration of the light that was breaking in upon
his soul, resolved,--

"I'll ask God to enable me to do as mother has advised, and as I see
to be right in the circumstances."

And covering his face with his hands, he lifted up his heart in
prayer. As he prayed, a heavenly peace seemed to pervade his whole
being. It stole upon him so gently and unexpectedly, that he felt
like shouting praises to God; and at last, unable to keep his
marvellous happiness to himself, he called, softly,--

"Mother, mother!"

"What do you wish, my son?" she asked, always ready to answer her
children's calls.

"O, mother," he replied, "I have been struggling and praying, and I've
got the victory."

Instantly she was kneeling on the rough floor by his side,--she
understood him,--and tears of grateful joy ran down her face, and she
said,--

"It is as I would have it, Tom. God has taken you up, and all will be
well."