never to engage in it;" and Captain Sedley walked off towards his
house.

"Father, I want to go up to the widow Weston's a little while," said
Frank.

"Very well; but you must be back so as to go to bed and get up in
season for your excursion to the city to-morrow."

"Come, Charley, I guess we won't go up on the raft," said Frank with a
pleasant laugh.

"I guess not;" and the two boys walked towards the rude cottage of the
widow Weston.

It was situated near the lake, about half a mile from Captain Sedley's.
Mrs. Weston was the widow of a poor laboring man who had died about a
year before our story opens. She was the mother of four
children,--three sons and a daughter. Her eldest son, who was now
twenty-two years old, had been in California nearly two years, having
left his home a year before the death of his father. She had received
one letter from him on his arrival at San Francisco, since which she
had heard nothing of him, and had given up all hopes of ever seeing him
again. She had not a doubt but that he had found a grave in the golden
soil of that far-off land. She mourned him as dead, and all the earthly
hopes of the poor mother were concentrated in her remaining children.

Anthony, the next son, whom everybody called Tony, was now thirteen
years old. He was an active, industrious boy; and all the neighbors
were willing to employ him on their farms and about their houses, so
that he was able to do a great deal towards supporting the family. He
was a good boy, so honest and truthful, so kind-hearted, and so devoted
to his poor mother, that he was a great favorite in the vicinity; and
some of the richer folks, when they really had no work for him, would
find something for him to do, for he was so proud and high-spirited
that he would not take money he had not earned.

Mary Weston, the daughter, was eleven years of age. Like her brother,
she had a sweet and gentle disposition, and did all she could to assist
her poor mother in the strait of her poverty. But Mrs. Weston, though
she had a hard struggle to get along, sent her daughter to school
winter and summer, preferring to deprive herself of many of the
comforts of life, rather than have her daughter forego the advantages
of a tolerable education. Mary, though her little hands were too feeble
to work much, felt that she was a burden to her toiling, self-denying
parent; and though she could not persuade her to let her stay at home
and help her, used all he