mpathetically, she knew he loved
his school immensely.

"You will only have to be at the office from nine till five, and, if
you are diligent, you shall be able to study a few hours every day,"
she said.

"Yes," said the boy reluctantly.

In less than a week after this, Frank had left school and was
settled in Mr. Baker's employment.

The winter was beginning to make itself felt, and the days were
growing shorter and shorter. Ah! how Frank liked these winter
evenings. He took his books, and, drawing his chair near a small
table close to the fire, he kept plodding on, evening after evening,
educating himself constantly.

At the age of nineteen, he obtained a situation as clerk in a bank.
He possessed a good knowledge of English and French. He was also
acquainted with German, Latin and Mathematics.

He had learnt unaided two systems of shorthand: one English and one
French.

Neither was he ignorant of other useful sciences, of which he had
striven to acquire at least a few elements.

Thus armed for the world's battle, he thought himself almost
invulnerable. "I am bound to succeed," he sometimes said to himself.
"I have done all that I possibly could do towards that end. I don't
believe in chance. 'What a man soweth, that shall he also reap.'"

If ever a youth deserved to succeed, it certainly was Frank Mathers.
He had sacrificed many pleasures for the sake of better fitting
himself for life's struggle. Often, when his companions invited him
to spend an evening in questionable pleasures; "No, he would answer,
I have no time for that." At last, they ceased to torment him.

He liked these evenings spent at home, quietly, near the fire, alone
with his mother, who sometimes lifted her eyes from her knitting or
sewing, and affectionately gazed for a few moments upon her son.

They were nearly always alone, mother and son; for the father, who
was a carpenter, spent his evenings in the workshop.

As her son neared his twentieth birthday, Mrs. Mathers felt that she
would never live to see it. She was very anxious for her son's
future. After all, would he always keep in the path in which he was
now walking?

One evening when she felt worse than usual, her anxiousness for her
son's welfare rose to such a pitch that she ventured to speak a few
words to him.

"Frank," she began, "you know that I am not in very good health."

"Yes, mother."

"I don't think I shall live long," continued she, "and, I should so
much