ing with some anxiety their decision in the other.

"I think they are going to take me," said Charlie; "you saw how struck they
appeared to be with the writing."

"They admired it, I know, my dear; but don't be too sanguine."

"I feel _sure_ they are going to take me," repeated he with a hopeful
countenance.

Esther made no reply, and they remained in silence until Mr. Twining
returned to the room.

After two or three preparatory ahems, he said to Esther; "I should like to
take your brother very much; but you see, in consequence of there being so
much excitement just now, relative to Abolitionism and kindred subjects,
that my partner and myself--that is, I and Mr. Western--think--or rather
feel--that just now it would be rather awkward for us to receive him. We
should like to take him; but his _colour_, miss--his complexion is a
_fatal_ objection. It grieves me to be obliged to tell you this; but I
think, under the circumstances, it would be most prudent for us to decline
to receive him. We are _very_ sorry--but our clerks are all young men, and
have a great deal of prejudice, and I am sure he would be neither
comfortable nor happy with them. If I can serve you in any other way--"

"There is nothing that you can do that I am aware of," said Esther, rising;
"I thank you, and am sorry that we have occupied so much of your time."

"Oh, don't mention it," said Mr. Twining, evidently happy to get rid of
them; and, opening the door, he bowed them out of the office.

The two departed sadly, and they walked on for some distance in silence. At
last Esther pressed his hand, and, in a choking voice, exclaimed, "Charlie,
my dear boy, I'd give my life if it would change your complexion--if it
would make you white! Poor fellow! your battle of life will be a hard one
to fight!"

"I know it, Ess; but I shouldn't care to be white if I knew I would not
have a dear old Ess like you for a sister," he answered, pressing her hand
affectionately. "I don't intend to be conquered," he continued; "I'll fight
it out to the last--this won't discourage me. I'll keep on trying," said
he, determinedly--"if one won't, perhaps another will."

For two or three days Charlie could hear of nothing that would be at all
suitable for him. At last, one morning he saw an advertisement for a youth
to learn the engraver's business--one who had some knowledge of drawing
preferred; to apply at Thomas Blatchford's, bank-note engraver. "Thomas
Blatchford,"