voyage," said the captain. "It is
time to think of making men of them. They have been poring over books
long enough to have a holiday; and, by the living Jove, they shall have
it. It is the ruin of boys to be tied to their mother's apron strings
after they are twelve years old. They are fit for nothing but peddlers
or colporteurs."

Gabriel clapped his hands exultingly; but Henry drew closer to his
mother's side.

"My hero, my young brave," cried the captain, slapping his favorite boy
on the shoulder, "you are worth a dozen such girl-boys as your brother.
Let him be a kitten and cry mew, if he will, while you climb the
topgallant-mast and make ladders of the clouds."

"I am as brave as he is," said Henry, straightening his youthful figure,
and looking at his father with a kindling eye. "I am not afraid of the
water; but who will protect my mother, if I go away with you?"

"Bravo! There is some spirit in the boy after all," exclaimed the
captain, who loved his wife with the devotion and constancy of a sailor.
"He has chosen an honorable post, and by heaven I will not force him to
leave it. I see that nature, when she gave us twins, intended we should
go shares in our boys. It is just. Gabriel shall go with me, but the
silver cup of fortune may after all find its way in Henry's sack."

Thus at twelve years of age the twin brothers separated, and from that
era their life-paths diverged into a constantly widening angle.

The captain discovered too late the error he had committed in
cultivating the roving propensities of his son, to the exclusion of
steady, nobler pursuits. He had intended merely to give him a holiday,
and a taste of a seafaring life; but after revelling in the joys of
freedom, he found it impossible to bind him down to the restraints of
scholastic life. He wanted him to go to college, but the young rover
bravely refused obedience to parental authority, saying, that one genius
in a family was enough; and the father, gazing with pride on the wild,
handsome, and dauntless boy, said there was no use in twisting the vine
the wrong way, and yielded to his will. Henry, imbosomed in classic
shades, gathered the fruits of science and the flowers of literature,
while his genius as an artist, though apparently dormant, waited the
Ithuriel touch of opportunity to wake into life and action.

Captain St. James had prospered in his enterprises and acquired a
handsome fortune, so that his sons would not be dependen