d him that it was useless to put forth effort, unless he
had wind and tide in his favor. Consequently, his life was spent in
waiting for encouragement from the forces of nature,--encouragement
which never came; so that at last he gave up the struggle, and sat by
the chimney-corner all winter, as contentedly as he sat on the stern
of his boat all summer, ready to move if circumstances favored, but
serene under all conditions. His silence was as marked as his
serenity. On occasions, he could be moved to smiles, but seldom to
speech. He sat quiet and unmoved amid the family hubbub, his long
limbs twisted together, his arms folded above his somewhat hollow
chest, and his protruding tusks of teeth firmly fastened over his
nether lip, as if constraining it to silence.

Tommy might lift off the cover of the beehive, and rush into the house
shrieking with wrath and terror over the result; Maggie might upset
the milk, and John drag the kitten about the room by its tail,--no
matter! the father of the family continued to sit unmoved as Brahma.
But when Leonard entered the door, some appearance of life began to
show itself in Michael. He untwisted his legs, moved a little to make
room on the settle, and even went so far as to make an entering wedge
of conversation with a "Well, Leon!"

Leonard Davitt was a boy to warm any father's heart,--stout and
strong, hearty and frank, cheerful as the day was long, with the smile
and jest of his race ready for any chance comer. This light-heartedness
had made him a favorite not only in his own family, but among all the
youth and maidens who dwelt in the outlying farmhouses around South
East; but of late an unaccountable change had come over the lad. This
merry, careless happiness had deserted him. He had taken to going
about with hair unbrushed, and a "dejected 'havior of his visage."

The noisy mirth of his little brothers and sisters irritated him, and
their noisier quarrels exasperated him. He kept away from them as much
as he could, and when he was not off in his boat, he sat on the fence
under the maples as taciturn as Michael himself. The children wondered
at him, and gradually began to draw away at his approach, instead of
rushing toward him as of old. Maggie, who was fifteen now, and worked
in the factory, suspected the cause of his trouble, and once ventured
to rally him on "the girl that was so cool she'd give a man the mitten
in summer;" but her pleasantry was ill-received. Leonar