he would run away some day--never come back again."

The Captain's story was rapidly explained by the different members of
the family, who had followed little Sam, to repeat it to old Sylvester,
each in her own way. Miriam and Hannah Peabody, who at sound of the
commotion had come forth from an inner chamber, whither she had been
retired by herself, joined the company of lookers on.

"What all amount to," he continued, in his peculiar clipped style of
speech. "Expect to see him again, do you. Mighty fine chance--where
going to?"

The Captain could'nt tell.

"One of the Captain's fine stories--no--no--if that boy ever comes back
again, I'll--"

There was a deep silence to hear what the hard old merchant proposed.

"I'll hand over to him the management of his late father's property, he
was always hankering after, and thought he could make so much more of
than his hard-fisted old uncle."

This was a comfortable proposition, and little Sam Peabody, as though it
were a great pear or red pippin that was spoken of, running to his
mother, said,

"Mother, I'd take it."

"I do," said the widow, "and call you all to witness."

William Peabody smiled grimly on Margaret; his countenance darkened
suddenly, and he was, no doubt, on the point of retracting his confident
offer, when his wife uttered in an under tone, half entreaty, half
authority, "William," at the same time turning on her husband the side
of the countenance which wore the green shade. He stifled what he
intended to utter, and shifting uneasily in his seat, he looked toward
the city and was silent. Whatever the reason, it was clear that when
they were seated at the table, partaking of the meal, it was Captain
Saltonstall that had the best attention from every member of the
household, (and the best of the dish,) from all save old Sylvester, who
held himself erect, as usual, and impartial in the matter.

"The ways of Providence are strange," said old Sylvester. "Out of
darkness he brings marvellous light, and from the frivolous acorn he
spreads the branches wide in the air, which are a shelter, and a solace,
and a shadowy play-ground to our youth and old age. We must wait the
issue, and whatever comes, to Him must we give thanks."

With this sentiment for a benediction, the patriarch dismissed his
family to their slumbers, which to each one of the household brought its
peculiar train of speculation; to two, at least, Miriam and the widow
Margaret, they bro