s friend's
silence, and made the action truly noble.

"I can never repay you, dear Walter, nor your kind father; I shall
ever be your grateful debtor," he wrote; "but I will try to employ the
talents you have cultivated, so as not, at all events, to disgrace
your friendship."

Though railways made the continent open to travellers, and the desire
to see his friend Walter never languished, yet years went by and it
was not realized. Some tidings there were of reverse of fortune
through a lawsuit, and of journeyings to different places. The last
that Sidney heard of his friend was in a letter from Madeira, where
his father was lingering on in too weak a state to bear removal.

The desultory, unsettled life that the family had led seemed to have
prevented Walter from making much progress as a sculptor,--a
profession he had thought of while in Italy,--and his letters were
somewhat vague and unsatisfactory as to his future plans.

Then came a long interval with no tidings, and afterwards a returned
letter with the one word DEAD, written under the name of Walter's
father on the superscription.

So, like a pleasant morning that ends in clouds and gloom, the
friendship seemed to end which had so gladdened the youth of Sidney,
and even blended with all the fondest memories of his boyhood. Many
were the prayers he breathed, that one who had been as a brother might
not be entirely lost to him.

As years went on great changes occurred in the firm that Sidney
served. He had risen in the confidence of his employers. They had a
business in Australia, under the care of a partner, who was also a
relative. He died, and as there was a sudden increase of business
facilities at Melbourne, Sidney was sent out, and a share in the
concern was given him. His surname did not appear. He was announced,
as many a junior partner is, by the little word "Co." appended to the
principal name of the firm.

Sidney had been in the colony some three years, and was now a stalwart
young man of twenty-seven, when one day, riding on horseback towards a
suburb of the rapidly growing city of Melbourne, called Brighton, he
noticed a gang of young men working on the road. He knew that many
respectable emigrants had come over during the first excitement of the
gold discoveries. Clerks used only to the pen, students, unsuccessful
professional men, all in the first delirium fever-fit of the gold
fever, had come in the expectation that hands unused to hard toil