, sewed tightly all around, and suspended from
his neck by a string.

"In this," he said, "is a pretty bracelet that my mother always wore on
her arm. Father Jack took it off after she died, to keep for me. He said
I must never open it until I found my father, and that I must wear it so
around my neck, that it might be safe."

"A bracelet, did you say?" exclaimed the colonel, "let me have it--I
must see it at once!"

With both his small hands clasped around it, the little boy stood
looking into Colonel B.'s face; then, slipping the string from over his
head, he silently placed it in his hand. To rip open the canvas was but
the work of a moment.

"I think I know this bracelet," stammered Colonel B. "If it be as I hope
and believe, within the locket we will find two names,--_Wilhelmina and
Carleton; date, May 26, 1849"_

[Illustration: "_He silently placed it in his hand_."]

There were the names as he said. Colonel B. clasped the boy to his
heart, crying brokenly, "My son! my son!"

I must now go back in my story. In the first year of his married life,
Colonel B. and his lovely young wife sailed for Europe, expecting to
remain several years in Southern Europe, on account of the delicate
health of his wife. He was engaged in merchandise in the city of
Baltimore. The sudden death of his business partner compelled his return
to America, leaving his wife with her mother in Italy.

Soon after he left, his mother-in-law died. Mrs. B. then prepared to
return to Baltimore at once, and took passage on the ill-fated steamer
which was lost. Vainly he made inquiries; no tidings came of her. At
last he gave her up as dead; he almost lost his reason from grief and
doubt.

Fourteen years had passed; he did not know that God in his mercy had
spared to him a precious link with the young life so lost and mourned.
Restless, and almost aimless, he removed to Michigan. When the war broke
out, he was among the first to join the army.

There stood the boy, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Father," he said,
"you have found me at last, just as Father Jack said. You are a great
gentleman, while I am only a poor drummer boy. But I have been an honest
boy, and tried my best to do what was right. You won't be ashamed of me,
father?"

"I am proud to call you my son, and thank God for bringing you to me
just as you are."

My little hero is now a grown man; and as the boy was so is the man.
"Stand by the ship," the motto which served h