ecomes the son of him who fought
Big Ben: if I can't succeed, and am driven to the worst, it is but
dying--"

"What do you mean by dying?"

"Leaving the world; my loss would scarcely be felt. I have never held
life in much value, and every one has a right to dispose as he thinks
best of that which is his own."

"Ah! now I understand you; and well I know how and where you imbibed that
horrible doctrine, and many similar ones which I have heard from your
mouth; but I wish not to reproach you--I view in your conduct a
punishment for my own sins, and I bow to the will of God. Few and evil
have been my days upon the earth; little have I done to which I can look
back with satisfaction. It is true I have served my king fifty years,
and I have fought with--Heaven forgive me, what was I about to say!--but
you mentioned the man's name, and our minds willingly recall our ancient
follies. Few and evil have been my days upon earth, I may say with Jacob
of old, though I do not mean to say that my case is so hard as his; he
had many undutiful children, whilst I have only--; but I will not
reproach you. I have also like him a son to whom I can look with hope,
who may yet preserve my name when I am gone, so let me be thankful;
perhaps, after all, I have not lived in vain. Boy, when I am gone, look
up to your brother, and may God bless you both. There, don't weep; but
take the Bible, and read me something about the old man and his
children."

My brother had now been absent for the space of three years. At first
his letters had been frequent, and from them it appeared that he was
following his profession in London with industry; they then became rather
rare, and my father did not always communicate their contents. His last
letter, however, had filled him and our whole little family with joy; it
was dated from Paris, and the writer was evidently in high spirits.
After describing in eloquent terms the beauties and gaieties of the
French capital, he informed us how he had plenty of money, having copied
a celebrated picture of one of the Italian masters for a Hungarian
nobleman, for which he had received a large sum. "He wishes me to go
with him to Italy," added he; "but I am fond of independence, and, if
ever I visit old Rome, I will have no patrons near me to distract my
attention." But six months had now elapsed from the date of this letter,
and we had heard no farther intelligence of my brother. My father's
complaint incr