n to aid you in rising."

"Even the _memory_ of an illustrious uncle is sometimes a
stepping-stone," remarked Charlie Bolton. "The late Emperor Louis
Napoleon is an example--lucky fellow; his uncle's name and fame got him
a throne--with the help of considerable cheating."

"Not so lucky, if you look at his end," said John. "But from other and
quite disinterested motives, I intend to keep as close to _my_ uncle as
he. I shall very soon begin to subscribe myself John Wyndham, Junior,
and I am determined to be like you, uncle--as like as your own shadow."

"Then you will be an illustrious example of failure, my boy--for my
shadow, although always near me, is generally cast down, which I never
am--and it always looks away from the sunny side, you know, which I
don't do. Besides, a shadow has no particular character: any one's
shadow would suit me as well as my own."

"I intend to be an original, for my part!" cried Cornelia, laughing. "I
won't be cast in anybody's mould, as if I were a bullet--not I!"

"That's right, my dear original!" said her uncle, pinching her rosy,
dimpled, laughter-loving cheek. "The grave world always wants a pert
little Cornelia to tease it out of its peculiarities: people in old
times kept their jesters, and you're nearly as good!"

"Why, uncle! you insult me! you've quite mistaken my character; I intend
to be the dignified Miss Wyndham!"

"Oh, pray, spare us that infliction!" replied her uncle, laughingly,
jumping into the carriage.

Mr. Wyndham met with good success. He arrived at Mr. Roscoe's door at
the moment that gentleman was about to leave home. Alice Bolton, who was
an especial favorite of his, introduced her uncle; and when he
understood that they had private business with him, he led them up to
his library, where, hanging over the mantle-piece, Mr. Wyndham
immediately saw a portrait, the counterpart of the one in his
possession, although evidently taken some years before the miniature.
Involuntarily, he stopped before it, and gazed earnestly. Mr. Roscoe
sighed. "Here is all that remains," said he, "of a dear and only
brother. I value this picture more than any thing else in my house,
except its living furniture." "Had your brother no family, sir? no wife
or child?" rejoined Mr. Wyndham. "That is rather a tender subject, my
dear sir," answered Mr. Roscoe: "one that has caused me much sorrow, and
some self-reproach. He left a wife and child, indeed, who were to join
me in America.