nd eventually obtained the farm for Bramble for two hundred pounds less
than he expected to give for it, and, very handsomely, only charged him
for the stamps of the conveyance. When we arrived at Deal we found Mrs.
Maddox quite recovered, and sitting with little Bessy in the parlor
below.

After Mrs. Maddox and Bessy went upstairs to bed, Bramble said to me, as
he knocked the ashes out of his pipe, "Tom, I've got this farm for Bessy
for two hundred pounds less than I expected to give for it. Now, I've
been thinking about this two hundred pounds, which I consider in a
manner as her property, and what d'ye think I mean to do with it? I'll
tell you. I'll give her education as well as money. This sum will keep
her at a good school for a matter of four years, and I've made up my
mind that she shall go. I don't like to part with her, that's certain;
but it's for her good, so all's right. Don't you think so?"

"I do, indeed, father," replied I. "I shall miss her as much as you do;
but, as you say, it's all right, and I'm very glad that you have so
decided."

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

In which there is a Hop, Skip, and a Jump.

Life has often, and with great truth, been compared to a river. In
infancy a little rill, gradually increasing to the pure and limpid
brook, which winds through flowery meads, "giving a gentle kiss to every
ridge it overtaketh in its pilgrimage." Next it increases in its volume
and its power, now rushing rapidly, now moving along in deep and
tranquil water, until it swells into a bold stream, coursing its way
over the shallows, dashing through the impeding rocks, descending in
rapids swift as thought, or pouring its boiling water over the cataract.
And thus does it vary its velocity, its appearance, and its course,
until it swells into a broad expanse, gradually checking its career as
it approaches, and at last mingles with the ocean of Eternity. I have
been led into this somewhat trite metaphor, to account to the reader for
the contents of this chapter. As in the river, after many miles of
checkered and boisterous career, you will find that its waters will for
some time flow in a smooth and tranquil course as almost to render you
unconscious of the never-ceasing stream; so in the life of man, after an
eventful and adventurous career, it will be found that for a time he is
permitted to glide gently and quietly along, as if a respite were given
to his feelings preparatory to fresh scenes of e