as fast asleep.

Salmon went to bed, too; but did he sleep?

Do not think, after all this, that he gave way to weak despondency.
Something within him seemed to say, "What you have you must obtain
through earnest struggle and endeavor. It is only commonplace people and
weaklings who find the hinges of life all smoothly oiled. Great doors do
not open so easily. Be brave, be strong, be great." It was the voice of
Faith speaking within him.

The next morning he arose, more a man than he had ever felt before. This
long and severe trial had been necessary to develop what was in him. His
self-reliance, his strength of character, his faith in God's
providence,--these were tried, and not found wanting.

Still the veil of the future remained impenetrable. Not a gleam of light
shone through its sable folds. He could only watch for its uplifting,
and sit still.

"A bad beginning makes a good ending," said Williams, one evening, to
comfort him.

"Yes,--and a good beginning sometimes makes a bad ending. I had a lesson
on that subject once. When I was about eleven years old, I started from
Keene, with one of my sisters, to go and visit another sister, who was
married and living at Hookset Falls, over on the Merrimac. It was in
winter, and we set out in a sleigh with one horse. I was driver. My idea
of sleighing was bells and fast driving; and I put the poor beast up to
all he knew. We intended to reach a friend's house, at Peterborough,
before night; but I found I had used up our horse-power before we had
made much more than half the journey. Then came on a violent
snow-squall, which obliterated the track. It grew dark; we were blinded
by the storm; we got into drifts, and finally quite lost our way. Not a
house was in sight, and the horse was tired out. The prospect of a night
in the storm, and only a winding-sheet of snow to cover us, made me
bitterly regret the foolish ambition with which I had set out. At last
my sister, whose eyes were better than mine, saw a light. We went
wallowing through the drifts towards it, and discovered a house. Here we
got a boy to guide us; and so at last reached our friend's, in as sad a
plight as ever two such mortals were in. Since which time," added
Salmon, "I have rather inclined to the opinion that slow beginnings,
with steady progress, are best."

"That's first-rate philosophy!" said Williams, secretly congratulating
himself, however, on having made what he considered a brisk start in
l