ch? How much is required?"

"Three thousand dollars."

"And you have but two?"

"That is all--though a friend did offer to get me five hundred more.
But twenty-five hundred is not sufficient. There must be three
thousand."

Mrs. Peyton made no reply. She sat a few minutes, and then arose and
went up-stairs. In about ten minutes she came down, and approaching her
son, with a warm glow of pleasure upon her face, placed a small roll in
his hands, saying as she did so--

"There is all you need, my son. The money you sent me so regularly for
the last five years, I have kept untouched for some such moment as
this. I did not feel that I needed it. Take it back, and start fairly
in the world. In a few more years I may need rest, as life draws nearer
to a close. Then I trust you will be in circumstances so good that I
needn't feel myself a burden to you."

"A burden? Dear mother! Do not speak of ever being a burden to me,"
said the young man, embracing his parent with tearful emotion.
"No--no," and he pushed back her hand; "I cannot take that money. It is
yours. I will not risk in business the little treasure you have saved
up so carefully. I may not succeed. No--no!" and he still pushed back
his mother's hand--"it is of no use--I cannot--I _will_ not take it!"

The roll of money fell to the floor.

"It is yours, Henry, not mine," urged the mother. "I did not stand in
need of it."

"Your son owed you much more than that. He was wrong that he did not
double the amount to you, in order to make up for former years of
neglect. No--no--I tell you, mother, I cannot take your money. Nothing
would tempt me to do it. I will wait a little longer. Other
opportunities will soon offer."

It was in vain that Mrs. Peyton urged her son, until her distress of
mind became so great that he was almost forced to receive the money she
pushed upon him--although, in doing so, it was with the intention of
leaving it behind him when he returned to the city. But the deep
satisfaction evinced by his mother, on his consenting to take it, was
of a kind that he did not feel it would be right for him to do violence
to. When he did return to the city, he could not find it in his heart
to leave the money, just six hundred dollars, on the table in the
little room where he slept, as he had at first resolved to do. He took
it with him; but with the intention of investing it for her in some
safe security.

When he again met Merwin, he was urged so str