e lady bold;
His heart was richer than e'er before,
As she bore the prize from the chamber door.
Ye who would know how much ye can win,
Give, when the money is rolling in.

CONTENTMENT BETTER THAN WEALTH.

"IT is vain, to urge, Brother Robert. Out into the world I must go. The
impulse is on me. I should die of inaction here."

"You need not be inactive. There is work to do. I shall never be idle."

"And such work! Delving in, and grovelling close to the ground. And for
what? Oh no Robert. My ambition soars beyond your 'quiet cottage in a
sheltered vale.' My appetite craves something more than simple herbs,
and water from the brook. I have set my heart on attaining wealth; and
where there is a will there is always a way."

"Contentment is better than wealth."

"A proverb for drones."

"No, William, it is a proverb for the wise."

"Be it for the wise or simple, as commonly, understood, it is no proverb
for me. As poor plodder along the way of life, it were impossible for
me to know content. So urge no farther, Robert. I am going out into the
world a wealth-seeker, and not until wealth is gained do I purpose to
return."

"What of Ellen, Robert?"

The young man turned quickly towards his brother, visibly disturbed, and
fixed his eyes upon him with an earnest expression.

"I love her as my life," he said, with a strong emphasis on his words.

"Do you love wealth more than life, William?"

"Robert!"

"If you love Ellen as your life, and leave her for the sake of getting
riches, then you must love money more than life."

"Don't talk to me after this fashion. I love her tenderly and truly. I
am going forth as well for her sake as my own. In all the good fortune
that comes as a meed of effort, she will be the sharer."

"You will see her before you leave us?"

"No; I will neither pain her nor myself by a parting interview. Send her
this letter and this ring."

A few hours later, and there brothers stood with tightly-grasped hands,
gazing into each other's faces.

"Farewell, Robert."

"Farewell, William. Think of the old homestead as still your home.
Though it is mine, in the division of our patrimony, let your heart come
back to it as yours. Think of it as home; and, should Fortune cheat you
with the apples of Sodom, return to it again. Its doors will ever be
open, and its hearth-fire bright for you as of old. Farewell!"

And they turned from each other, one going out into