penses, until I get
one or two thousand dollars ahead, which shall be in five years. Then I
will look out for a golden opportunity, such as Mervin has found. This
agreement with myself I solemnly enter into in the sight of heaven, and
nothing shall tempt me to violate it."

"Are you going to ride out this afternoon, Peyton?" inquired a young
friend, breaking in upon him at this moment.

"Yes, if you'll hire the buggy," was promptly returned.

"I can't afford that."

"Nor I either. How much is your salary?"

"Only a thousand."

"Just what mine is. If you can't, I am sure I cannot."

"Of course, you ought to be the best judge. I knew you rode out almost
every afternoon, and liked company."

"Yes, I have done so; but that's past. I have been a 'fine, generous
fellow,' long enough to get in debt and mar my prospects for life,
perhaps; but I am going to assume a new character. No doubt the very
ones who have had so many rides, oyster suppers, and theatre tickets at
my expense, will all at once discover that I am as mean and selfish as
Mervin; but it's no great odds. I only wish I had been as truly noble
and generous in the right quarters as he has been."

"You are in a strange humour to-day."

"I am in a changed humour. That it is so very strange, I do not
see--unless for me to think wisely is strange, and perhaps it is."

"Well, all I have to say is, that I, for one, do not blame you, even if
I do lose a fine ride into the country now and then," was the frank
response.

Peyton went to work in the matter of reform in right good earnest, but
he found it hard work; old habits and inclinations were very strong.
Still he had some strength of mind, and he brought this into as
vigorous exercise as it was possible for him to do, mainly with
success, but sometimes with gentle lapses into self-indulgence.

His mother lived in a neighbouring town, and was in humble
circumstances. She supported herself by keeping a shop for the sale of
various little articles. The old lady sat behind her counter, one
afternoon, sewing, and thinking of her only son.

"Ah, me!" she sighed, letting her hands fall wearily in her lap, "I
thought Henry would have done something for himself long before this;
but he is a wild, free-hearted boy, and I suppose spends every thing as
he goes along, just as his father did. I'm afraid he will never do any
thing for himself. It is a long time since he wrote home. Ah, me!"

And the mother lifted her