ld decide what to do. He knew he was welcome
there, and could stay as long as he wished, though he had no thought of
becoming a burden upon the kind friends that had opened their doors to
him.

Now, it was this change in the surroundings in the daily life of Tom
Gordon that led to the singular incidents I have set out to tell.

Jim Travers lived alone with his father, who was in fair circumstances.
His mother had died in his infancy; and his only sister, Maggie, was his
playmate for a few years longer, when she departed to join the loved one
that had preceded her. The husband and father became a lonely and bowed
man, whose years were far less than they seemed. Although a farmer in a
small way, he committed the sad error of engaging in stock speculations,
more with a view of diverting his mind from his gnawing grief than with
the hope of bettering his fortune. It is hardly necessary to relate what
followed. He was successful for a time, and improved his financial
standing. He gladly welcomed Tom Gordon beneath his roof, for he knew his
own boy could not have a playmate whose company would be more improving to
him. Then Mr. Travers dipped more deeply into speculation. With brighter
prospects than ever, there came the fateful hour in Wall Street, when
every penny was swept from him.

"I am a beggar!" he gasped, when the whole dreadful truth broke upon him;
"and I am too old to begin life again. It is better that I should die."

And die he did in the great city of New York. The shock was fatal; and his
body was brought back to Briggsville, and laid to rest beside the forms of
his wife and little Maggie, that had died long before. Jim was dazed by
the unexpected blow. It became the privilege of Tom Gordon to act as his
comforter, but it was a long time before the little fellow came out from
the valley of shadow into the life-giving sunlight again.

But here was the solemn situation: Tom Gordon and Jim Travers were
orphans, with no near relatives, and with only their own hands to earn
their daily bread. What was the best thing for them to do?

This was the grave question which the two boys sat down to answer in the
gloom of a wintry evening, when they were about fourteen years of age.
They had received plenty of counsel, and much of it was excellent. The
teacher, the minister, and numerous good neighbors had been as kind as
they could possibly be, and the youths knew no real hardship could come to
them as long as they st