nd
was called "Sinton," instead of "Ned," his fighting days were over. No
man in his senses would have ventured to attack that strapping youth
with the soft blue eyes, the fair hair, the prominent nose, and the firm
but smiling lips, or, if he had, he would have had to count on an hour's
extremely hard work, whether the fortune of war went for or against him.

When Ned had been three years at college, his uncle hinted that it was
time to think of a profession, and suggested that as he was a first-rate
mathematician, and had been fond of mechanics from his childhood, he
should turn an engineer. Ned would probably have agreed to this
cheerfully, had not a thirst for adventure been created by the stirring
accounts which had begun to arrive at this time from the
recently-discovered gold-fields of California. His enthusiastic spirit
was stirred, not so much by the prospect of making a large fortune
suddenly by the finding of a huge nugget--although that was a very
pleasant idea--as by the hope of meeting with wild adventures in that
imperfectly-known and distant land. And the effect of such dreams was
to render the idea of sitting down to an engineer's desk, or in a
mercantile counting-room, extremely distasteful.

Thus it came to pass that Edward Sinton felt indisposed to business, and
disposed to indulge in golden visions.

When he entered the breakfast-parlour, his mind was still full of his
curious dream.

"Come along, my lad," cried Mr Shirley, laying down the Bible, and
removing his spectacles from a pair of eyes that usually twinkled with a
sort of grave humour, but in which there was now an expression of
perplexity; "set to work and get the edge off your appetite, and then
I'll read Moxton's letter."

When Mr Shirley had finished breakfast, Ned was about half done, having
just commenced his third slice of toast. So the old gentleman
complimented his nephew on the strength of his appetite, put on his
spectacles, drew a letter from his pocket, and leaned back in his chair.

"Now, lad, open your ears and consider what I am about to read."

"Go on, uncle, I'm all attention," said Ned, attacking slice number
four.

"This is Moxton's letter. It runs thus--

"`Dear Sir,--I beg to acknowledge receipt of yours of the 5th inst. I
shall be happy to take your nephew on trial, and, if I find him steady,
shall enter into an engagement with him, I need not add that unremitting
application to business is the only r