. So, you see, even in Muskegon Commercial College there were
lessons to be learned.

For my own part, I cared very little whether I lost or won at a game so
random, so complex, and so dull; but it was sorry news to write to my
poor father, and I employed all the resources of my eloquence. I told
him (what was the truth) that the successful boys had none of the
education; so that, if he wished me to learn, he should rejoice at my
misfortune. I went on (not very consistently) to beg him to set me up
again, when I would solemnly promise to do a safe business in reliable
railroads. Lastly (becoming somewhat carried away), I assured him I was
totally unfit for business, and implored him to take me away from this
abominable place, and let me go to Paris to study art. He answered
briefly, gently, and sadly, telling me the vacation was near at hand,
when we could talk things over.

When the time came, he met me at the depot, and I was shocked to see him
looking older. He seemed to have no thought but to console me and
restore (what he supposed I had lost) my courage. I must not be
down-hearted; many of the best men had made a failure in the beginning.
I told him I had no head for business, and his kind face darkened. "You
must not say that, Loudon," he replied; "I will never believe my son to
be a coward."

"But I don't like it," I pleaded. "It hasn't got any interest for me,
and art has. I know I could do more in art," and I reminded him that a
successful painter gains large sums; that a picture of Meissonier's
would sell for many thousand dollars.

"And do you think, Loudon," he replied, "that a man who can paint a
thousand-dollar picture has not grit enough to keep his end up in the
stock market? No, sir; this Mason (of whom you speak) or our own
American Bierstadt--if you were to put them down in a wheat-pit
to-morrow, they would show their mettle. Come, Loudon, my dear; Heaven
knows I have no thought but your own good, and I will offer you a
bargain. I start you again next term with ten thousand dollars; show
yourself a man, and double it, and then (if you still wish to go to
Paris, which I know you won't) I'll let you go. But to let you run away
as if you were whipped, is what I am too proud to do."

My heart leaped at this proposal, and then sank again. It seemed easier
to paint a Meissonier on the spot than to win ten thousand dollars on
that mimic stock exchange. Nor could I help reflecting on the
singularity of