minute with shining countenance.

"A gentleman and his little boy, to see Mr. ----! I have shown them into
the parlor."

Salmon was amazed. Could it be true? A pupil at last! He gave a hurried
glance at himself In the mirror, straightened his shirt-collar, gave his
hair a touch, and descended, with beating heart, to meet his visitor.

He was dignified enough, however, on entering the parlor, and so cool
you would never have suspected that he almost felt his fate depending
upon this gentleman's business.

He was a Frenchman,--polite, affable, and of a manner so gracious, you
would have said he had come to beg a favor, rather than to grant one.

"This is Mr. ----? My name is Bonfils. This is my little boy. We have
come to entreat of you the kindness to take him into your school."

"I will do so most gladly!" said Salmon, shaking the boy's hand.

"You are very good. We shall be greatly indebted to you. When does your
school commence?"

"As soon, Sir, as I shall have engaged a sufficient number of pupils."

"All! you have not a great number, then?"

"I have none," Salmon was obliged to confess.

"None? You surprise me! I have seen your advertisement, I hear good
things said of you,--why, then, no pupils?"

"I am hardly known yet. Allow me to count your son here my first, and I
have no doubt but others will soon come in."

"Assuredly! Make your compliments to Mr. ----, my son. I shall interest
myself. I think I shall send you some pupils. In mean time, my son will
wait."

And with many expressions of good-will the cheerful Monsieur Bonfils
withdrew.

This was a gleam of hope. The door of Providence had opened just a
crack.

It opened no farther, however. No more pupils came. Salmon waited. Day
after day glided by like sand under his feet. He could not afford even
to advertise now. He was getting fearfully in debt; and debt is always a
nightmare to a generous and upright mind.

"Any pupils yet?" asked Monsieur Bonfils, meeting him, one day, in the
street.

"Not one!" said Salmon, with gloomy emphasis.

"Ah, that is unfortunate!"

He expected nothing less than that the Frenchman would add,--"Then I
must place my son elsewhere." But no; he was polite as ever; he was
charming.

"You should have many before now. I have spoken for you to my friends.
But patience, my dear Sir. You will succeed. In mean time we will wait."

And with a cordial hand-shake, and a Parisian flourish, he smilingly
passed on,