l accustomed to handling
the pen. It gives me the greatest pleasure I can have in this
world when I hear that you are getting along so well -- except
I could hear one other thing of you, -- and that would be a
pleasure beyond anything in this world. Let us know everything
you want -- and we will try to send it to you, and if we can't
we will all want it together. -- We are all well -- Winifred
mourns for you all the while, in spite of trying not to do it.
What the rest of us do is no matter. I shall send a box, if I
can, before New Year, with some cakes and apples -- write us
before that, in time, all you want.

Your mother."

This double letter, being duly put in the post according to
Mr. Landholm's promise, in the course of time and the post
came safe to the Shagarack post-office; from whence it was
drawn one evening by its owner, and carried to a little upper
room where Rufus sat, or rather stood, at his books. There was
not a great deal there beside Rufus and the books; a little
iron stove looked as if it disdained to make anybody
comfortable, and hinted that much persuasion was not tried
with it; a bed was in one corner, and a deal table in the
middle of the floor, at which Winthrop sat down and read his
letters.

He was longer over them than was necessary to read them, by a
good deal. So Rufus thought, and glanced at him sundry times,
though he did not think fit to interrupt him. He lifted his
head at last and passing them over coolly to Rufus, drew _his_
book near and opened his dictionary. He did not look up while
Rufus read, nor when after reading he began to walk with
thoughtful large strides up and down the little room.

"Governor!" said Rufus suddenly and without looking at him,
"sometimes I am half tempted to think I will take Mr. Haye's
offer."

"Did he make you an offer?"

"He said what was near enough to it."

"What tempts you, Will?"

"Poverty. It is only, after all, taking a short road instead
of a long one to the same end."

"The end of what?" said Winthrop.

"Of painstaking and struggling."

There was silence, during which Rufus continued his strides
through the room, and the leaves of Winthrop's books ever and
anon turned and rustled.

"What do you think of it?"

"Nothing."

"Why?"

"I don't believe in drinking of a roiled stream because it
happens to be the first one you come to."

"Not if you are dry?"

"No, -- not unless everything else is, too."

"But merchandise