tion for your
kindness in thinking of me thus," returned Mr. Archer, warmly, at the
same time resuming his seat.

"The story I have to tell you came under my immediate observation. I
was quite well acquainted with the principal character.

"Very many years ago, and not far distant from this city, lived an
orphan boy, scarce fifteen years of age--bereaved, at one cruel blow,
by a prevailing epidemic, of both parents, and left to the care of an
uncle (his father's brother), a hard, cruel man.

"A few hundred dollars, quite sufficient, however, to support and
continue the boy's studies, for a few years, was left in the hands of
the uncle. But of this there was no proof--no will or last testament
was left.

"Death came so swiftly there was little time for aught save an
appealing look from son to brother, and the pleading voice murmured:

"'Be a father to my boy, Oh! deal justly, kindly towards him!'

"In a very few days the sensitive mind of the poor boy too truly
perceived that he was not a welcome inmate. Before a month had passed
he was withdrawn from school; his love of study was discouraged; in
fact, made a source of ridicule; and his time so completely taken up
with hard work on the farm, there was no chance for aught else.

"On one occasion George (we will call him) ventured a remonstrance
with his uncle--alluding to the money in his possession to be used for
George's education and support. Judge of his amazement and indignation
when the bad man denied having one dollar in trust for him, and ended
by calling him a pauper, and saying he would have to work for his
bread.

"The future, there, was very plain to George; a life of
ignorance--nothing higher than a mere farm drudge. His mind was
determined against that. Privation, suffering, death, even, were
preferable. The next day found him a fugitive from injustice and
dishonesty--a lonely traveler on the path of life. Seeking Fortune, to
find and be treated by that whimsical goddess with good or ill. To be
smiled or frowned upon, to be mounted upon the triumphing waves,
rising higher and higher, until he had reached the pinnacle of Fame,
or drifted about, sinking lower and lower in the dark waters, at last
reaching the pool of Dishonesty, Despair, Death!

"Ah! who could tell which fate would be his?

"Oh, how I can sympathize with all such! looking back on my own
pathway to manhood; remembering the dangers, temptations and
numberless snares that youths have