work again, and strained her dimmed eyes over
it.

"Here's a letter for you at last, Mother Peyton," said the well-known
voice of the postman, breaking in upon her just at this moment. "That
boy of yours don't write home as often as he used to."

"A letter from Henry! Oh, that is pleasant! Dear boy! he doesn't forget
his mother."

"No, one would think not," muttered the postman, as he walked away,
"considering how often he writes to her."

With trembling hands, Mrs. Peyton broke the seal; a bank-bill crumpled
in her fingers as she opened the letter. A portion of its contents was:

"DEAR MOTHER--I have had some very serious thoughts of late about my
way of living. You know I never liked to be considered mean; this led
me to be, what seemed to everybody, very generous. Everybody was
pleased to eat, and drink, and ride at my expense; but no one seemed
inclined to let me do the same at his expense. I have been getting a
good salary for six or seven years, and, for a part of that time, as
much as a thousand dollars. I am ashamed to say that I have not a
farthing laid by; nay, what is worse, I owe a good many little bills.
But, dear mother, I think I have come fairly to my senses. I have come
to a resolution not to spend a dollar foolishly; thus far I have been
able to keep my promise to myself, and, by the help of heaven, I mean
to keep it to the end. My first thought, on seeing my folly, was of my
shameful disregard to my mother's condition. In this letter are ten
dollars. Every month you will receive from me a like sum--more, if you
need it. As soon as I can lay by a couple of thousand dollars, I will
look around for some means of entering into business, and, as soon
after as possible, make provision for you, that your last days may be
spent in ease and comfort."

"God bless the dear boy!" exclaimed Mrs. Peyton, dropping the letter,
while the tears gushed from her eyes. The happy mother wept long for
joy. With her trembling hand she wrote a reply, and urged him, by the
tenderest and most sacred considerations, to keep to his good
resolutions.

At the end of a year Peyton examined his affairs, and found himself
freed from debt; but there were nearly one hundred dollars for which he
could not account. He puzzled over it for one or two evenings, and made
out over fifty dollars spent foolishly.

"No doubt the rest of it will have to be passed to that account," said
he, at last, half angry with himself. "I'll hav