seems, and that satisfies me."

Tom was impressed by his mother's faith, but soon objected,--

"Mother, do you think we can always trust our feelings? You said a
little while ago that you _felt_ that there would be trouble with the
Indians; but nobody expects that. And now you say that you _feel_ that
all God does is right. Now, if you are wrong about the Indians, and
about father's being in danger from them, how can you be sure that
your feelings are right about God?"

"Tom," replied she, "I have a great many impressions that come to
nothing. But there are _some_ that _never_ do. And I _know_ that God
does right; for I _feel_ that he does; and, Tom, we shall see about
the Indians;" and she sighed heavily, and rose, and gazed long and
earnestly off over the prairie, and towards the woods. Then, seating
herself on the bedside, she said, gently,--

"My son, you haven't told me all your troubles yet. Hadn't you better
hold nothing back from me?"

The lad turned away at this, deeply touched again; "for," thought he,
"her feelings are right about me; perhaps they are about God;" and her
persevering and delicate solicitude pierced his very soul.

"Mother," said he, at length, struggling with emotion, "I don't want
to grow up ignorant and useless. And I don't want the children and us
all to be so poor and despised;" and the tears came again, and the
mother's mingled with his. "I can't bear to have it so, and I
_won't_," he added, rising in bed, and speaking with excited energy.

"Ah, my poor child," said the mother, "I knew it was that that lay on
your mind, and took away your appetite, and made you so unhappy. And I
have been praying for a long while that you might feel so."

"You didn't want me to be miserable--did you, mother?" asked Tom, in
surprise.

"God forbid, Tom. But I couldn't wish you to grow up contented with
such a life. I have felt that you might do a great deal of good in the
world, and I wished you to see it."

"But, mother, how can I have things different?"

"Tom," returned she, looking searchingly at him, "how have you thought
to make them different?" The boy averted his face again, and made no
reply for a moment, and then said, softly,--

"I had decided to go away and get learning, and earn my living, and
try to be somebody."

"And when did you think of starting?"

"The morning," answered he, with an unsteady voice, "that I got hurt
with the gun."

"And were you going off without letting