ed scarf to my mother, who, for the
first time in her life, appeared pleased with me, and said that they
were very _genteel_, and she was much obliged to me. The remainder I put
away in my room upstairs, intending to keep some for Bessy, and give the
others to Mrs. St. Felix, the doctor, and old Nanny.

I then went to the hospital and found out my father, old Anderson and
Ben. I narrated to them much more circumstantially than I did to the old
lawyer the particulars of the capture of the privateer. Anderson put a
great many inquiries to me, as to my liking my profession, and also
concerning little Bessy, whose history I communicated to him. After my
father and Ben had left, he gave me a great deal of advice, all of which
I trust that I treasured up.

"I hear," said he, "that Spicer has been talking a good deal about you,
and inquiring very often when you were expected to return. Were you very
intimate with that man?"

I replied in the negative, and then narrated the whole history of the
spy-glass, the erasure of the name by Mrs. St, Felix, and the
recognition of it by Spicer.

"You did right to leave him in his error relative to where you received
the glass from," said Peter Anderson; "there is some mystery there which
time may unravel, but do not say a word of it to any one, Tom. I am glad
that you have told me, as, in case you are away, and anything should
occur, I shall know how to act."

I must acknowledge that I now walked proudly through the streets of
Greenwich. I was no longer Poor Jack, but I was earning my livelihood
in my profession. I had reason to be still prouder when, two days
afterward, Mr. Wilson came to my mother's with the newspaper in his hand
in which there was a long account of the capture of the privateer, and
the conduct of Bramble and of me spoken of in the highest terms. This he
read aloud to my mother and Virginia. I watched my sister. The tears
filled her eyes as she listened, and when Mr. Wilson had done her arms
were round my neck, and her smiles were mixed with her tears, and
sometimes she would laugh as she cried. Oh! how I loved her then, for I
felt how dearly she loved me; even my mother appeared gratified,
although she said nothing, but continued to repair the lace veil upon
which she had been employed. That evening I went with Virginia to call
upon Mrs, St. Felix, taking with me the presents I had laid aside for
her. She welcomed me as usual, and accepted what I brought for her