him--to develop all the
sleeping possibilities of his young nature.

Ward Glazier had not been as prosperous in his worldly affairs as his
patriotism and honesty deserved, and things at the old "Homestead"
looked rather gloomy. Poverty is a fearful darkener of child-life, and
while its shadow rarely fell on Willard, who was always at school or
roving the woods and fields with his uncle Henry, to his sisters and
brothers it frequently presented its dark face and whispered unpleasant
prophesies of the future.

Of course it was not that abject kind of poverty which stints the supply
of food and fire in a house. It did not still the prattle of the
children, or banish childish mirth from the dwelling. It was not the
wolf at the door, but the wolf in the dim possible distance when the
poor father, bent with age, would perhaps be unable to keep his little
flock together. But the boy had never thought of such a possible time.
_His_ visions of the future were of sights to be seen in the great
world--of a time when he would be large enough and free enough to
accompany his uncle Henry upon some of his wild adventures among
civilized or savage races, and of the delights of unlimited books to be
read upon subjects most congenial to his mind. He therefore made no
allowance for his father's gloomy face and short words, and often
thought him stern when he was only sad.

A slight incident, however, changed all this and compelled him to face
life not as a dream but as a reality. One evening Willard's father came
home very tired and somewhat dispirited by some adverse circumstances,
such as occur in every man's business life at times, and of course he
was not in the most pleasant frame of mind to encounter the petty
annoyances of a household. Something that Willard said or did, capped
the climax of his irritability and he called the boy a fool. It was a
very unusual thing for Ward Glazier to speak with even apparent
harshness to his children, and the lad felt it, therefore, all the more
keenly. He became very thoughtful and silent, and crept off to bed
earlier than usual only to lie awake most of the night brooding over the
insult, and debating within himself what to do in order to vindicate his
outraged dignity. The conclusion at which he finally arrived was that
when the morning came, he would run away from home and seek his fortune
in the great world. The fact is he had been reading "Robinson Crusoe"
but a day or two previous, and t