would, he could not banish from his
mind the curious incidents of that remarkable golden dream.

CHAPTER TWO.

OUR HERO.

We have entered thus minutely into the details of our hero's dream,
because it was the climax to a long series of day-dreams, in which he
had indulged ever since the discovery of gold in California.

Edward Sinton was a youth of eighteen at the time of which we write, and
an orphan. He was tall, strong, broad-shouldered, fair-haired,
blue-eyed, Roman-nosed, and gentle as a lamb. This last statement may
perhaps appear inconsistent with the fact that, during the whole course
of his school-life, he had a pitched battle every week--sometimes two or
three in the week. Ned never began a fight, and, indeed, did not like
fighting. But some big boys _will_ domineer over little ones, and Ned
would not be domineered over; consequently he had to be thrashed. He
was possessed, even in boyhood, of an amount of physical courage that
would have sufficed for any two ordinary men. He did not boast. He did
not quarrel. He never struck the first blow, but, if twenty boys had
attacked him, he would have tried to fight them all. He never
tyrannised over small boys. It was not his nature to do so; but he was
not perfect, any more than you are, dear reader. He sometimes punched
small boys' heads when they worried him, though he never did so without
repenting of it, and doing them a kindness afterwards in order to make
up. He was very thoughtless, too, and very careless; nevertheless he
was fond of books--specially of books of adventure--and studied these
like a hero--as he was.

Boys of his own size, or even a good deal bigger, never fought with Ned
Sinton. They knew better than that; but they adored him, in some cases
envied him, and in all cases trusted and followed him. It was only
_very_ big boys who fought with him, and all they got by it was a good
deal of hard pummelling before they floored their little adversary, and
a good deal of jeering from their comrades for fighting a small boy.
From one cause or another, Ned's visage was generally scratched, often
cut, frequently swelled, and almost always black and blue.

But as Ned grew older, the occasions for fighting became less frequent;
his naturally amiable disposition improved, (partly owing, no doubt, to
the care of his uncle, who was, in every sense of the term, a good old
man,) and when he attained the age of fifteen and went to college, a