on one whose position was known to be extremely doubtful.

The nearer this second crisis came, and the more distinctly Mr.
Howland was able to see its painful features, the more did his heart
shrink from encountering a disaster that would involve all his
worldly affairs in hopeless ruin.

In this strait, the mind of Mr. Howland kept turning, involuntarily,
toward his son Edward, as toward the only resource left him on the
earth; but ever as it turned thus, something in him revolted at the
idea, and he strove to push it from his thoughts. He could not do
this, however, for it was the straw on the surface of the waters in
which he felt himself sinking.

Painfully, and with a sense of deep humiliation, did Mr. Howland at
length bring himself up to the point of writing again to his son. As
everything depended on the effect of this second letter, he went
down into a still lower deep of humiliation, and after representing
in the most vivid colors the extremity to which he was reduced,
begged him, if a spark of humanity remained in his bosom, to send
him the aid he needed.

With a trembling hope did the father wait, day after day, for an
answer to this letter. Time passed on, and the ninth day since its
transmission came and yet there was no reply.

Nervously anxious was Mr. Howland on the morning of the tenth day,
for if no help came then, it was all over with him. His note for
fifteen hundred dollars fell due, and must be lifted ere the stroke
of three, or the end with him had come.

A few mouthfuls of food were taken at breakfast, and then Mr.
Howland hurried away to the Post Office, his heart fluttering with
fear and expectation. A few moments, and he would know his fate. As
he came in sight of the long row of boxes, his eyes glanced eagerly
toward the one in which his letters were filed up. There was
something in it. In a tone of forced composure, he called out the
number of his box, and received from the clerk two letters. He
glanced at the post-mark of one, and read--"New York," and at the
other, and saw--"Boston." For a moment or two his breath was
suspended, and his knees smote together. Then he moved away, slowly,
with such a pressure on his feelings that the weight was reproduced
on his physical system, and he walked with difficulty.

The letters were from business correspondents, and in no way
affected the position of extremity he occupied. For a greater part
of the morning Mr. Howland sat musing at his d