FRED LAWRENCE 
 
 OR, 
 
 BY 
 
 MARGARET E. TELLER. 
 
 in SparUu who*!, bird U-MOIU tad a roa^h discipline 
 
 NEW YORK. 
 
 DODD, ilEAD & COMPANY 
 
 Pur, i.i s HERS.
 
 TO MY BROTHEES, 
 
 WITH THE HOPE 
 THAT FOR THEM THE DISCIPLINE OF 
 
 PRODUCE THE HIGHEST DEVElOPMSHl 
 OF MIND AND HEART, 
 Efcta lUtle Sfcttcf) 
 
 If AFFECTIOXATELY DEDIOATWJ. 
 
 2133274
 
 FRED LAWRENCE, 
 
 OB, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " He whose ardor brightly burneth 
 With a purpose true and strong, 
 In the end a laurel earneth 
 Nobler than the highest song." 
 
 " I TELL you, Fred, it is a great shame you 
 don't go to college. You deserve it better 
 than any other one in the academy. Here 
 am I, poor dog ! at the foot of all my classes, 
 and destined, for aught I see, to remain so 
 to the end of my course ; and there are you 
 at the head, smarter than all the rest of ua 
 put together, and loving study as a fish loves 
 water, obliged to quit all your favorite em- 
 ployments to bury yourself in a dusty count- 
 ing-room, over stupid ledgers. For me it 
 1* W
 
 6 FEED LAWRENCE. 
 
 would be a good enough punishment for 
 ray laziness at school, but for you, I say it 
 is a shame.'' 
 
 " Oh, well, Charley, the matter is all set 
 tied now, and there is no use crying about it. 
 I should like a collegiate education very 
 much, of course. I used to think there was 
 no such thing as living without it ; but I 
 begin to think that, after all, it isn't the 
 chief end of man to go through college." 
 
 " What is, then ? to grow hump-backed 
 over account-books?" 
 
 " Not exactly ; but to do one's duty, what- 
 ever disagreeable consequences it may in- 
 volve." 
 
 The two boys were sauntering slowly home 
 from school, on the summer afternoon that 
 closed their academic year. 
 ' Fred Lawrence and Charley Mason had 
 been boon companions -during the years in 
 which they had been thrown together as 
 schoolmates. They were not yet of an age 
 when wealth and social position interpose
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 7 
 
 tlieir barriers between those whom God hath 
 joined together by congeniality of tempera- 
 ment : and though Charles was the petted 
 diild of luxury, while Frederic was reared 
 .n poverty, and accustomed to toil and pri- 
 vation, there had sprung up between them 
 an attachment of unusual strength and purity. 
 
 " I can tell you a reason, Charley," said 
 Fred, " that will explain why I give up the 
 hope of a liberal education so easily. It is 
 my own choice. I had the offer of a colle- 
 giate course, and, after thinking it over, con- 
 cluded to decline." 
 
 You decline I" 
 
 " Yes, for though I valued the noble gener- 
 osity of the proposal, I was not willing to be 
 dependent for so great a favor. And, be- 
 sides, Charley, you must know that, as tho 
 only son, I have a sort of pride in the hopo 
 of furnishing a support to my mother and 
 sister. I think it would be rather selfish 
 don't you? tc take six or seven years 
 now for my own improvement, and leave all
 
 8 FRED LAWRENCfi. 
 
 the burden of their maintenance upon iny 
 mother." 
 
 " You are quite right, Fred, as you always 
 are. I had no idea that you had so strong 
 reasons for going into business." 
 
 " I wanted you to know all about it ; 
 though I suppose it isn't exactly the fashion 
 to talk about such affairs. We have been 
 pretty good friends, haven't we, Charley, all 
 these years? We shall never be so much 
 together again." 
 
 " That's half that makes me wish you were 
 going to college, or that I could stay at 
 home. I always had a passion for going to 
 new places, and seeing new things ; but now 
 it seems that I am losing a great deal in 
 making the change. Next Monday I go into 
 the country, and as soon as I come back, off 
 for New Haven." 
 
 " And next Monday, I go to business." 
 
 "You're a noble fellow, Fred, and I'm 
 mistaken if you don't turn up something bet- 
 ter than the whole crew of college boys, after
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 9 
 
 ill. And yet, with a mind like yours, you 
 ought to be educated." 
 
 " And I will be educated," said Frederic, 
 proudly. " The world is my university, Char- 
 ley, and it is as large a one as most persons 
 have to study in." 
 
 " Well, Fred, success to you ! I always 
 said you were a genius, and you will prove 
 my sagacity one of these days." 
 
 They stood at the door of Mr. Mason's 
 beautiful mansion : a hearty shake of the 
 hand, a promise to meet again to-morrow, 
 and the schoolmates had separated. 
 
 As Fred Lawrence walked briskly on, in 
 the direction of his own home, some painful 
 thoughts, in spite of his resolution, disturbed 
 the usual serenity of his mind. " The end of 
 anything is painful," some one has said 
 There is truth in the remark, for even the 
 rudest circumstances with which we come in 
 contact, afford some support to the clinging 
 tendrils of affection. But a school relation, 
 enlisting as it does the best energies of tha
 
 10 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 young mind, calling forth toward teachers 
 and fellow-pupils the most generous emotions 
 of the heart, cannot fail to maintain a strong 
 hold upon the interest and affections, and 
 make itself felt even amid the rude warfare 
 of life which effaces all lighter impressions. 
 We envy not that scholar who can leave the 
 scene of his earlier mental efforts without 
 regret, in whose heart the memories of school 
 associations are not ensnrmeu amid the in- 
 cense of grateful affection. 
 
 Fred felt as if the ship that had carried 
 him thus far on his life-voyage, had suddenly 
 cast him overboard, and he was left to strug- 
 gle by his own unaided strength against the 
 cold, dark waves of early experience. Behind 
 him were the honors of boyish achievement, 
 the pleasure of mental exertion, the approval 
 of teachers, the pleasant companionship of 
 schoolmates. Before him was labor, often 
 exhausting ; circumscription in his favorite 
 pursuits ; and a daily routine of tiresome and 
 uninteresting employments.
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 11 
 
 Yet, to yield to despondency was the last 
 tiling he would have thought of. What boy 
 of fifteen was ever ready to sink down in 
 discouragement at any view of life? What 
 young heart, once started in the career of 
 honorable enterprise, feels not that within 
 itself which is superior to every difficulty, 
 and capable of unlimited achievement? There 
 is no obstacle to a determined spirit ; no 
 duty can be burdensome when attracted by 
 the magnetic power of a ready will.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 " Ah 1 how skilful grows .he hand 
 That obeyeth love's command I 
 It is the heart, and net the brain, 
 That to the highest doth attain." 
 
 "AFTER all," said Fred to himself, as he 
 stood upon the doorsteps of the quiet cottage 
 he called his home, "If Charley Mason's 
 house is ever so splendid, I had rather have 
 my own dear little home any day. Mine it 
 is, and it shall be retained by my own exer- 
 tions." 
 
 He felt every inch a man as the new 
 responsibility dawned upon him. The 
 noblest impulse that can dwell in the human 
 breast animated his soul ; the resolution to 
 protect and support the weaker ones depend- 
 ent upon him. Mother and sister should be 
 relieved of care ; Addie should be educated 
 better than ever he had been : she was only 
 twelve so there was time enough yet, Fred 
 (12)
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 13 
 
 thought. In fact, he began to consider him- 
 self as quite the head of the family, in its 
 financial relations. 
 
 It was late before he slept that night. 
 The new hope and courage brought joy, but 
 not peace as yet. There were so many 
 thoughts and schemes to be revolved, that he 
 worked himself into quite a mental excite- 
 ment ; and, when he slept, it was only to 
 carry on in his dreams the same train of 
 ideas, only curiously exaggerated and dis- 
 torted. 
 
 First, ho was a great giant, like Christo- 
 pher of old, and a flood was rising over the 
 city, up to the very windows of their little 
 parlor. Our hero took his mother in one 
 arm, and Addie in the other, and carried 
 them away through the dashing waters, on 
 to a high mountain, where they all three 
 stood looking down upon the waves roaring 
 beneath them, but unable to approach their 
 resting-place. 
 
 Then he was a knight-errant, wandering 
 2
 
 14 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 about the world in quest of adventures. In 
 some waste howling wilderness he found his 
 sister Addie, about to be eaten up by a 
 dragon. He put his spear in rest, and 
 charged furiously upon the beast, which 
 yielded, as these storied monsters were 
 bound to do, to knightly valor. Then, as he 
 turned to reassure Addie after her fright 
 lo ! it was no longer his own little sister, but 
 a beautiful princees, clothed in velvet, and 
 gold, and ermine, whom he must escort, with 
 chivalrous courtesy, to her palace, amid the 
 acclamations of all spectators, and receive 
 the unbounded gratitude of the aged king, 
 her father. 
 
 After the requisite preliminaries, which 
 are more quickly dispatched in dream-life 
 than in the actual, he was to espouse the 
 princess, and receive with her hand the 
 dominion of her paternal realm. There was 
 infinite rejoicing in the capital, the populace 
 shouted, the cannon were fired, (in the days 
 of chivaliyj a dreamy anachronism,) and
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 15 
 
 the )*ells sent forth their merry peal, long 
 and Joud, upon the bright morning air ; 
 quite too long and loud, for our hero was 
 startled from his romantic dreams to hear 
 Addie ringing the breakfast-bell at the foot 
 of the stairs. 
 
 Monday morning came, and Frederic Law- 
 rence was installed in his situation at Smith, 
 Brown & Co.'s"; the said situation being an 
 elected seat in front of a desk, containing 
 a TJ amber of leather-bound ledgers. The 
 apartment entitled " counting-room," like 
 most places uninvaded by feminine neatness 
 and taste, had a forlorn and dingy appearance, 
 which presented to our schoolboy rather a 
 cheerless contrast with the neat little sitting- 
 room at home, or the airy and spacious halls 
 of the academy. The ponderous day-book, 
 in which he was to enter the uninteresting 
 items of debit and credit, was a poor sub- 
 stitute for the beloved school-books over 
 which he used t ) bend with delight and 
 enthusiasm.
 
 16 FEED LAWRENCE. 
 
 Nevertheless, Fred's heart was luminous 
 with hope and enterprise, so that he needed 
 little light reflected from surrounding objects. 
 Visions of mother and home lent a cheer 
 even to his dark corner by the desk, nerved 
 his hand when the pen seemed to have growr 
 into its stiffened muscles, and concentrated < 
 whele day full of happiness into the twilight 
 hour when the day's task was finished, and 
 he commenced the homeward walk. There 
 is a magic in the power of association. 
 The most uncongenial employments, when 
 prompted by the heart's best affections, seem 
 to absorb into themselves the beauty and 
 reflect the lustre of those affections. Thus 
 Frederic, after selecting a vocation inher- 
 ently distasteful to him in duty to his mother, 
 and performing its services faithfully from a 
 sense of right, soon conceived quite a liking 
 for the vocation itself. 
 
 Smith, Brown & Co. presently discovered 
 a wonderful aptitude for business in their 
 assistant book-koeoer. The whole force of
 
 FEED LAWRENCE. 17 
 
 fiis mind was concentrated upon his work 
 until the thousand details of trade and ac- 
 counts seemed intuitively familiar to him ; 
 and every duty was performed with such 
 hearty good-will, that he soon stood bejond 
 most of his fellow-clerks both in real knowl- 
 edge of the business and in the esteem of his 
 employers. 
 
 In the mean time, his favorite studies had 
 not been abandoned. Though the long 
 golden hours of the day were demanded by 
 other employments, the morning and evening 
 were his own ; and the time saved from sleep 
 or amusement was made to yield rich returns 
 of improvement. Habits of severe mental 
 application are not speedily formed, but 
 when once established, they amply repay 
 the effort required. 
 2*
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 u No man wadeth In learning or contemplation thoroughly, bul wlU 
 lod that printed in his heart : Iknow nothing." BACON. 
 
 " Knowledge dwells 
 
 In heads replete with thoughts of other men, 
 Wisdom in minds attentive to their own. 
 Knowledge is proud that he has learned so much, 
 Wisdom is humble that he knows no more." 
 
 COWPEK. 
 
 " OH, FRED ! how you frighten me !" Addie 
 exclaimed, as she met him on the stairs one 
 winter morning. Very charmingly she look- 
 ed, Fred thought, as she stood with the 
 lamp in her hand, her little morning wrapper 
 falling around her feet, the golden curls 
 floating carelessly over her shoulders, and 
 her blue eyes wide open with amazement. 
 
 " What can you be doing so early m the 
 morning ?" she continued. * 
 
 " Oh, 1 am about my business," he replied, 
 smiling. 
 
 " I should think business required enough 
 (18)
 
 FRED LAWEENCB. 19 
 
 time from sunrise to supper-time, without 
 calling you up at this hour." 
 
 " I meant my own personal interests : 
 namely, the improvement of my mind. If I 
 attend to Smith & Brown's affairs all day, 
 there is no objection to a care of my own 
 before breakfast, I suppose." 
 
 " Not a bit, but I never saw you about so 
 early before." 
 
 " Whose laziness do you ascribe that to V 
 said Fred, laughing. "But what are you 
 doing, little puss, mousing around the house 
 before daylight?" 
 
 " I'm going to kindle the fire, and get 
 breakfast before mother wakes ; so, don't 
 you make a breath of noise." 
 
 " But you are 'shaking with the cold. RUD 
 back to bed, and I will make the fire foi 
 you." 
 
 " Oh, pshaw ! no : do you think I am afraid 
 of the cold ? I wouldn't allow such a waste 
 of your valuable time. You know I can 
 study all day. So go about your business,
 
 20 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 Mr. Book-keeper, and I will attend to mine," 
 said Addie, tripping lightly down the stairs. 
 
 It was not long before the little house- 
 keeper had a bright fire burning in the cook- 
 ing stove, and proceeded to the manufacture 
 of the biscuits ; while her brother established 
 his lexicon and Cicero at the other end of 
 the table, by the east window, in order to 
 catch the first rays of the daylight. 
 
 Though Addie continued her notable 
 practice of early rising through the winter, 
 she had no more fires to kindle. At what- 
 ever hour she entered the kitchen, a cheerful 
 blaze greeted her arrival, and the student, 
 with his books, was occupying the same 
 corner by the east window. 
 
 Stolen waters are sweet ; and who can 
 deny that two hours of study thus snatched 
 from all-engrossing toil, have a richer zest, 
 and impart to the mind more of athletic 
 glow and strength, than weeks under the 
 enforced routine of instruction ? 
 
 " Mother," said Fred, as he sat on a loif
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 21 
 
 footstool at her feet that evening, " are you 
 very sony that I did not go to college?" 
 
 " I have not allowed myself to think much 
 of it lately, my son. We decided the ques- 
 tion as wisely as we were able, and it would 
 be a weakness now to indulge in vain 
 regrets." 
 
 " But I mean, mother, do you think I shall 
 lose very much? I am studying at home, 
 you know, and mean, if I live, to take every 
 study that is useful or desirable to be 
 acquainted with though, of course, it will 
 take some years to go through with my 
 plan." 
 
 " In some respects it may possibly be 
 better for you. Beside the knowledge 
 gained, you will acquire strength and deci- 
 sion of character, by the very effort required 
 to accomplish your plan without any coer- 
 cion but that of your own will." 
 
 " I had a letter to-day from Charley 
 Mason. He is tired and sick of college life, 
 which he calls a mere slavery to rules. He
 
 22 FEED LAWRENCE. 
 
 seems to have no respect for tutors w pro 
 fessors ; and all these studies that I am so 
 much interested in are only disagreeable 
 tasks to him." 
 
 " I hardly think you would find it so if 
 you were in college. Charley, you know, 
 has never been subject to much constraint, 
 and the necessary rules of such an institu- 
 tion would weigh more heavily upon him." 
 
 "I don't think there is so much use, after 
 all, in a collegiate course. If a fellow has a 
 will to study, there are books enough, and 
 there's no need of his being a dunce." 
 
 " Certainly, if accumulation of ideas was 
 the only object, hermit-life might be better 
 than college, and one's own quiet home, in the 
 intervals of business, quite as well as either. 
 But there are some evils to be guarded 
 against, in a solitary course of study. Yon 
 are more liable to acquire one-sided and 
 narrow views ; and, having little oppor- 
 tunity of comparing them with those of 
 others, they easily settle into dogmatism and
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 23 
 
 obstinacy. Being fully persuaded in your 
 own mind of the truth of your opinion, you 
 may not treat with sufficient respect those of 
 other people, which perhaps res-t on stronger 
 foundations, and have been more carefully 
 formed than your own." 
 
 " Is this the fault only of those who are 
 self-educated ?" asked Fred. 
 
 " Certainly not, though it is a very com- 
 mon perhaps unjust reproach of ' self- 
 made men.' It belongs to a low degree of 
 knowledge, however gained. The chief ad- 
 vantage of a course of study in a large 
 institution is, that you come in contact with 
 other minds, many of which will be stronger 
 and better cultivated than your own ; 
 remember, too, that education means far 
 more than the accumulation of ideas. The 
 development of all our powers is a life-work, 
 and four years of collegiate study is but a 
 small part of this work. He only is truly 
 educated who knows how to embody in life 
 the ideas he tas acquired ; to act more
 
 24 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 wisely, to live more nobly, from the knowl 
 edge gained. And lie who enters earnestly 
 on the pursuit of this highest good, will fir.d 
 the field so vast as to leave little oppor- 
 tunity for pride." 
 
 " There isn't much hope of ever being 
 satisfied with one's own attainments." said 
 Fred, " if we judge by those who have been 
 most successful. The greatest of scholars 
 seem to have been usually the humblest of 
 men." 
 
 " At least when their manhood was in any 
 due proportion to their scholarship. There 
 is no more pitiable object than a mind 
 loaded down with great and varied erudi- 
 tion, without moral vitality to use and 
 dignify the possession. There have been 
 misers of knowledge as well as of gold. A 
 true and worthy ambition desires wisdom in 
 the use, as well as success, in the attainment 
 of either of these means of influence. And 
 those who have true wisdom will know how 
 to estimate rightly their acquisitions so that
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 25 
 
 they are saved from the dangers of conceit. 
 Do you remember the anecdote of Sir Isaac 
 Newton, when he was congratulated, just 
 before his death, on his vast attainments in 
 physical science? He said he seemed to him- 
 self like a little child playing on the shores 
 of a boundless ocean. He had gathered a 
 few shells and pebbles from the beach, but 
 the whole expanse of knowledge lay unex- 
 plored before him. 
 
 Frederic was silent : a limitless horizon 
 seemed outspread before him. His pride 
 was humbled, and ambition sobered by the 
 vastness of the field ; but aspiration burned 
 with a stronger and clearer flame, because 
 freed from the fumes of vanity and conceit. 
 
 Into the kingdom of knowledge, as into 
 the kingdom of heaven, one must enter as a 
 little child. He whose earnest aspiration ia 
 tempered by a childlike humility, is doubly 
 furnished to the search for truth.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ' Friendly love perfectcth mankind." 
 
 BAOOH. 
 
 PERHAPS Fred may best be allowed to tell 
 his own story of his course of self-instruction 
 in a letter to Charles Mason. But let ua 
 first look over his shoulder at the letter he is 
 about to answer. 
 
 " DEAR FRED : 
 
 " I have a sort of idea that I promised 
 you a letter, as soon as I became fairly settled 
 in college life. Whether I did or not, I am 
 just in the mood for a talk with you tin 
 evening, to help shake off a fit of homesick- 
 ness. 
 
 il Now don't laugh at me for being home- 
 sick, until I have described my position. You 
 don' 4 know how st ipid it is to be subject to 
 (26)
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 27 
 
 such horrible rules. The first thing you hear, 
 after you go to sleep at night, is, a tremen- 
 dous bell dinging in your ears, which says 
 "Get up." There is no resisting the com 
 mand ; so you rub open your eyes, hustle on 
 your clothes, and are off in the raw morning 
 air to exercises at the chapel. These are 
 stupid enough in the circumstances, you may 
 well believe. After shivering half an hour 
 in a cold room, you are dismissed for an 
 hour's study. 
 
 " Well, I believe I will not inflict upon you 
 the whole routine ; but I do say, going to 
 college is not as grand an affair as it is said 
 to be. I declare, Fred, much as I hate busi- 
 ness, I would rather spend the hours of the 
 day over a ledger, and be my own master 
 the rest of the time, than be a slave night and 
 day to that confounded bell ; tied down to 
 mathematics and all such stupid stuff all the 
 time, with disgrace in reversion in case of 
 the slightest negligence. Laziness altvaya 
 was my besetting sin, you know, anl now
 
 28 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 Tutor Jones is determined to pursue it with 
 a whip of scorpions. 
 
 " Disagreeable as the whole thing is, I am 
 determined, if possible, to do myself justice, 
 and not make my friends ashamed of me. 
 That is one of my troubles ; if I had no am- 
 bition in the case, I could get along more 
 easily. 
 
 " We do have some fun now and then, tak- 
 ing off the professors, and playing jokes on 
 " old Prex." One soon gets tired of such 
 jokes, however, though we are bound to con- 
 sider them remarkably brilliant at the 
 time. 
 
 " By the way, Fred, how do you like that 
 'world-college' you were to enter? If it 
 gives you as hard work as these of the smaller 
 sort, I pity you. Deliver me from a world 
 full of such drudgery as this. 
 
 " Do tell me what you are doing, and all 
 about your plans. If anybody in this world 
 can put any good into me, it is you. I wish 
 you were here fo push me along, if not for
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 29 
 
 your own sake. For yourself. I suppose 
 there is no need of it, for you arc bound to 
 succeed wherever you are. 
 
 " Please write often, and give me, if you 
 can, the secret of your good luck. 
 " Yours, forever, 
 
 " CHARLES MASON." 
 
 4 DEAR CHARLEY : 
 
 " I was very glad to receive your 
 letter last Friday, for it seemed like one of 
 our old schoolboy talks. Those were pleas- 
 ant times that we used to have at the old 
 academy, weren't they ? Pleasant, especially 
 to look back upon, though I should not care 
 to have had them last forever. Indeed, I 
 believe I am better contented now than I was 
 at school, much as I disliked to leave. Now 
 my whole time is occupied, and I am pretty 
 sure that I am doing all I can. 
 
 " It may be the world-college is as good as 
 a smaller one after all, for I have not got 
 tired of it yet. The course of study grows
 
 30 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 upon mo, though ; and I am afraid I shall 
 hardly get through in a lifetime. 
 
 " I am sorry you are homesick, Charley 
 but I think you will get over it before long 
 That is all the consolation I can offer. A 
 little of the 'tincture of time/ is the best 
 prescription, as I)r. H. says. Freshman year 
 is always said to be the most disagreeable 
 of the four ; so don't get discouraged in the 
 first six months. 
 
 " Since you ask what I am doing, I will 
 give you a little account of my studies. I 
 am attending chiefly to Latin and Greek this 
 winter, as I was more afraid of losing in 
 those what I had gained at school. 
 
 " As I am obliged to be at the store at 
 half-past eight, I can seldom get more than 
 an hour and a half, these short mornings, for 
 study, beside breakfast and the walk. In 
 those hours, I have read all of Cicero's Ora- 
 tions since leaving school, and am now study- 
 ing Horace. The Greek grammar I repeat 
 to myself on the walk orer to the store which
 
 FRED LAWRENCE, 31 
 
 takes a half-hour of morning time too valua- 
 ble to be wasted. 
 
 " I have an excellent chance to practise in 
 French, as we have a French clerk who 
 lives over here ; so I walk home with him 
 every night, and we chatter all the way. 
 This is good amusement ; and besides, when 
 I go to Europe, as I mean to, some day, it 
 will be of use to me. I shall learn German 
 in the same way by-and-by. , 
 
 " In the evening I read Xenophon. 1 en- 
 joy studying grandly so far ; partly, I sup- 
 pose, because I choose my own tasks, and 
 take it instead of play. There is no room 
 for complaint or insubordination, since I am 
 ' Prof.,' ' Prex,' and Tutor, as well as student. 
 It is remarkable what excellent discipline 
 can be maintained in such an institution. 
 
 "But remember, Charley, you are in the 
 world-college as well as I ; only you happen 
 to be gentleman commoner, and I sizar, as 
 they say in Engknd. I don't care a fig foi 
 the difference now for I like the idea of
 
 32 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 fairly earning everything I learn. With so 
 few hours for study, I cannot expect to ad- 
 rance quite as fast as you will, with all your 
 time at your command ; but I shall do what 
 1 can, so take care that with a fair start you 
 don't get beaten. 
 
 " Write to me often, do ; and tell me next 
 time that you have buried home-sickness and 
 laziness, as you soon will Euclid, and are 
 going to work like a good fellow as you arc 
 " Yours truly, as ever, 
 
 " FRED LAWRENCF."
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 " A manly spirit of cr nteut, 
 
 Feeling that life is wisi-st spent 
 Where the strong working hand makes strong the tforkr.ag brain. 
 
 ON returning from business one night, 
 Fred was pleasantly surprised to find his 
 mother's brother, Lieutenant Stanton, who 
 had just returned from a three years' cruise 
 in the Chinese seas. This uncle had been 
 the hero of Fred's childish fancy. Ilis 
 stirring tales of adventure among the perils 
 of the sea had given him a place among the 
 knights and warriors of chivalrous romance ; 
 and his frequent protracted absences on the 
 duties of his profession had lent to his move- 
 ments that charm of mystery which only 
 serves to feed the sentiment of hero-worship. 
 
 To the admiring view of Fred, the three 
 letters " U. S. N." formed the proudest 
 escutcheon ever claimed by gallant knight, 
 
 (83)
 
 34 FRED LAWKENCfc. 
 
 or ombroiuercd by "ladie faire." Though 
 llio dark ages of childish romance had passed, 
 lie still regarded his sailor uncle with all the 
 deference that an active, enterprising boy 
 can feel, for one whose whole life is passed 
 amid scenes of peril and adventure. While 
 his father lived, his highest ambition had been 
 to enter the same profession, and win his 
 way under his country's flag to renown and 
 high command. Like other childish dreams,! 
 this had faded away in the broad daylight 
 of actual life. But, unknown to him, his 
 uncle had, during this absence, been maturing 
 a similar plan for him, and had already taken 
 the initial steps toward procuring for him a 
 midshipman's warrant under his own com- 
 mand. 
 
 " Well, Fred, my boy, are you ready to go 
 to sea with me ?" said Uncle James, after a 
 hearty sailor's grip and the first words of 
 salutation. " I have proposed it to your 
 mother, and she leaves the matter to your 
 decision."
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 35 
 
 " The question is decided already, uncle, 
 My duty seems to be in the land service." 
 
 ' ho ! so you have given up your liking 
 for salt water, and foreign travel, and hair- 
 breadth 'scapes, and are willing to settle 
 down for a landsman all your days. I 
 thought better of you, Fred.'' 
 
 Fred did not choose to enter into all his 
 reasonings in the presence of his mother and 
 sister ; so after some raillery the subject was 
 dropped. 
 
 It was renewed, however, by Licutcnan 
 Stantou, as he walked with Fred to his place 
 of business the next morning. 
 
 " Now, tell me plainly," said he, " whether 
 you really do not wish to enter the navy, or 
 have you only ceased thinking of it nt all ?" 
 
 " I have thought it all over, uncle, and 
 decided to give up all idea of it. I could 
 not engage in any calling that would take 
 me away from my mother and sister, or pre- 
 vent me for even a year from contributing 
 to their support."
 
 6 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 " It is an honorable purpose, my Loy, but 
 I tliink we can provide for them and you too. 
 I have something laid aside, and no one to 
 need it, which I will gladly place at your 
 mother's disposal. I tliink it will be for 
 your interest to enter the navy. I have 
 some influence with the Department, I be- 
 lieve, and if you do well, as of course you 
 will, a few years will bring you promotion 
 to a station worth having." 
 
 They walked on in silence a few minutes. 
 At last Fred said 
 
 " I hope, uncle, you will not think that I 
 undervalue your kindness ; but it seems very 
 plain to me that my duty is at home. It 
 would seem like deserting my post to leave 
 my mother and sister so alone." 
 
 " You are satisfied, then, to stay on land, 
 and be a book-keeper all your days !" said 
 Lieutenant Stan ton, with an air of disap- 
 pointment and almost of disgust. 
 
 " I hope I shall be satisfied with doing my 
 duty, uncle, wherever it takes me or keeps
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 37 
 
 me," said Fred, in a voice tliat tried to be 
 firm. 
 
 " Oh, well ! my boy, if you view it in that 
 light, your decision is a right and noble one. 
 But tell me truly, would you have chosen 
 your present employment if your choice had 
 been perfectly free uninfluenced, I mean, by 
 any of these motives ?" 
 
 "Frankly, uncle, I should not. I have 
 always had a passion for travelling, and I 
 never see a ship bound for anywhere, but I 
 wish I was on board." 
 
 " There is some sailor in him, after all," 
 said Uncle James, in delight. 
 
 " Then, if I were to remain on land, I 
 should prefer some rnore^ stirring employ- 
 ment that would keep me in the open air, for 
 I never had any great fancy for sitting still 
 from morning to night." 
 
 " Mere slavery ! slavery !" ejaculated Uncle 
 James. 
 
 " But I thought it all carefully over," 
 continued Fred. " It was time I should do
 
 38 FEED LAWRENCE. 
 
 something, aud this seemed on the whole the 
 best thing I could do ; so now the matter is 
 decided, I think no more about it. And 
 indeed, I have been quite happy and con- 
 tented since I have been in business. I sup- 
 posed, whatever profession I entered, there 
 must be a certain amount of drudgery at the 
 beginning, so I made up my mind to that. 
 Then, I am thinking, that after a few years, 
 when I get rich, you know, I can still have 
 time to travel about and see the world, as I 
 always wished to do." 
 
 " Well, success to you, my boy," said Uncle 
 James, as they parted at the door of the 
 store. " I should be glad to help you along 
 in my own profession ; but do your duty 
 wherever you are, as bravely as you have 
 begun, and you wfl not fail to make a man 
 'in the end."
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 " But deem not helm or harness 
 
 The sign of valor true ; 
 Peace hath higher tests of manhood 
 Than battle ever kuew." 
 
 Vfsmnai. 
 
 "WHAT conclusion did you and Uncle 
 
 James arrive at this morning ?" inquired 
 Mrs. Lawrence, as Fred entered the cozy 
 little sitting-room, on his return that even- 
 ing. 
 
 " The conclusion was arrived at before this 
 morning, mother ; I have no thought of spend- 
 ing my life on the water." 
 
 " You used to have quite a fondness for 
 Bailor life and adventures when you were 
 younger. I did not know but it might be a 
 trial to you even now to decline Uncle James' 
 proposal." 
 
 " Trial or not. mother, you know I had 
 but one thing to say. Of course I should 
 
 (39)
 
 40 FEED LAWRENCE. 
 
 not think twice whether I would leave you 
 and Addie here alone, while I go off wander- 
 ing ovor the world." 
 
 " I am sorry your plans for life must be 
 limited for our sakes, my son." 
 
 " Oh, don't think it was a disappointment, 
 for really I had given up all thought of it 
 long ago. If any one is disappointed, it is 
 Addie there ; for ever since she heard Uncle 
 James' plan, she has been building air-castles 
 for me ; I see it in her eyes. It would be a 
 grand thing, wouldn't it, Addie, if I could 
 perform some splendid exploit for which all 
 the world should delight to honor me. Such 
 a brother would be worth having. I am not 
 sure that you would not send me on an 
 Arctic exploration without mercy, only to 
 accomplish that most laudable purpose." 
 
 " I sJiould like to be as proud of you for a 
 brother, as I am of Dr. Kane for a country 
 man." 
 
 " Your mother will be as proud of you, ray 
 boy, if you do your duty faithfully wherever
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 41 
 
 Providence places you, as if you went to win 
 laurels under the poles." 
 
 " But Addie has a great idea of hero-wor- 
 ship and all such fancies. She has admitted 
 a uew hero into her pantheon lately, by the 
 side of Napoleon and all the rest, and just 
 now I suppose she thinks that if I were once 
 in the naval service I should be a full-grown 
 Hercules all of a sudden." 
 
 " Forgetting, perhaps, that you would have 
 to go through long years of uninteresting 
 toil, more tedious than your present duties." 
 
 " I would not decline the service, though, 
 "on account of the drudgery." 
 
 " No, certainly," replied his mother, " but 
 we do well to make up our minds at the be- 
 ginning, that a really honorable distinction 
 is only to be earned in any course by patient 
 and long-continued exertion. In reading 
 such accounts as we have lately done, of al- 
 most superhuman exploits and endurance, 
 our admiration for one heroic ican is rather 
 naturally extended to the profession to which
 
 42 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 he belongs, aud we are inclined to think that 
 the same circumstances would of necessity 
 produce the same character. But the truth 
 is, a great soul will find room to exert itself 
 in the lowest arid narrowest station, while a 
 small one is not elevated into greatness by 
 mere position. Now let us compare notes. 
 What have you admired most, my son, in the 
 narrative of the Arctic expedition ?" 
 
 " I hardly know, I like it all so much ; I 
 think it was a splendid mind that could plan 
 and execute that escape from the icebound 
 ship. Think how bravely the poor fellows 
 worked through those long weeks, their jour, 
 ney of thirteen hundred miles, among crush- 
 ing, floating icebergs, in open boats, just 
 ready to fall in pieces beneath them. But it 
 was the one master-mind that inspired them 
 -all." 
 
 " And what do you like, Addie ?" 
 " The whole, of course ; but just now I have 
 be\3n thinking how delightful it was to be in 
 the midst of such strange and splendid natu-
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 43 
 
 ral phenomena, and to learn so many things 
 that had never been known before. One 
 would have so much to remember, his whole 
 life would be the richer for such scenes 
 passed through. But, mother, you have 
 not told us what you admire most in the 
 story." 
 
 " I think the noblest thing in the whole 
 narration, is that which after all does not 
 distinguish it from the record of any truly 
 noble life. I mean the gelf-forgeifulness 
 with which a mind so capable of the highest 
 achievements, gave itself up to the most 
 menial services, when the necessities of others 
 required it ; spending time and strength in 
 the midst of wonders which, as an ardent 
 student of nature, he longed to explore, in 
 ministering to the common wants of those 
 committed to his care." 
 
 " That seems to me," said Addie, " the sad- 
 dest thing in the whole stpry. So much waa 
 lost, which the world can never regain." 
 
 " It is no small thing," replied her mother,
 
 44 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 " to have given so noble an example of self 
 sacrifice. The world is not destitute of 
 strong and cultivated minds, and the results 
 of tlieir labors are constantly increasing the 
 treasures of science. But of these higher 
 moral traits, we have few models. And what 
 most interests us is, that this kind of heroism 
 is not confined to any profession or circum- 
 stances in life. The same degree of self-sac- 
 rifice for the general good, would be equally 
 noble in the most obscure station, though it 
 might not become equally known and honor- 
 ed. There may be more heroism in perform- 
 ing faithfully the humblest duties of life, than 
 in maintaining command of men, or battling 
 with the elements of nature." 
 
 " Could every one be as great as those we 
 read of?" said Addie, musingly. 
 
 " Every one could, if every one had the will 
 to be," replied her mother. " One thing is 
 certain, there can be no cheating in this mat- 
 ter ; a strong and efficient cl aracter is not to 
 be obtained for less than its just equivalent
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 45 
 
 in years of effort. And after all, it is the 
 being great, and not the distinction it may 
 confer, that should be the object of our desire. 
 We must learn to act rightly and nobly, 
 without listening for the echo of our actions 
 in the applause of men "
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 * Direct not him whose way himself w,ll choose." 
 
 " WHERE going, Lawrence ?" exclaimed 
 two of his companions, taking either arm, aa 
 they emerged from the store. 
 
 " Home," said Fred. 
 
 " ' Home/ as usual, but what for just now ? :> 
 
 " Supper," said Fred, smiling. 
 
 " Oh, plio ! Isn't there supper enough to 
 be had this side the river ? Come, go witli 
 us this evening, and we will have rare spore. 
 We'll go to Delmonico's for a stew, and ther. 
 to Wallack's." 
 
 " Thank you," said Fred, " I would rathe, 
 not go to-night. I never go to the theatre 
 and it lias no great attractions for me." 
 
 " Oli ! you are afraid it isn't right, pej 
 haps," said Jones, with a sneer. 
 
 " I have not yet mentioned my reasons for 
 not going," said Fred, "but, .since ^ju wish 
 
 (46)
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 47 
 
 to know them, I ^ ill tell you that I have 
 better employment for my evenings, and so it 
 would be a waste of time to spend them in 
 that way." 
 
 " Wonderfully economical !" said Jones. 
 (; How much does time bring per hour ?" 
 
 "But I have a better reason than that,' 
 continued Fred ; " I think it positively wrong, 
 at least, whatever it may be for others, it 
 would certainly be wrong for me." 
 
 "Pshaw! hear the fellow!" said Jones; "he 
 is wise as Solomon, and preaches like a par- 
 son. But I see the reason of it all. He is a 
 mother-boy, and afraid to be out till twelve 
 o'clock at night." 
 
 " Come, don't be a fool, Fred," said the other 
 clerk, persuasively ; " you don't know what 
 you lose by being so particular. Those that 
 ought to know, say that the drama is an 
 important means of instruction, and you 
 can't understand the beauties of a play till 
 you have seen it well acted." 
 
 "I am not literary enough yet," said
 
 48 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 Fred, ' to need the drama. When I have 
 read more I may perhaps consider the sub- 
 ject. At present I am really afraid I should 
 not be qualified to appreciate it." 
 
 "Now, don't be making reflections." said 
 Jones, maliciously. " Everybody knows, you 
 set up to be a great deal wiser than your 
 neighbors." 
 
 " But don't you know," said the other 
 clerk, more pleasantly, that there are many 
 good people ministers, too, among the rest-- 
 who think it is right and profitable to attend 
 the theatre ? Now, I don't see any use in 
 being more strict than ministers themselves." 
 
 " I think a very great majority of ministers 
 and good people are of the contrary opinion," 
 Fred replied. " But if it were not so, minis- 
 ters are only men, and may possibly be mis- 
 taken, as well as others." 
 
 " Well," said Willis, persuasively, " if you 
 don't go to be profited, go for the sake of 
 being like other people for once in your 
 life."
 
 PEED LAWRENCE. 49 
 
 " I am as much obliged for your invitation, 
 Willis, as if I accepted it," replied Fred, 
 " but really I prefer not to go. I know of 
 no very good reason for doing everything 
 that other people do. I see a thousand 
 things done every day that I don't feel 
 obliged to mimic, and this is one." 
 
 " Oh, you are a great deal better than 
 your neighbors," said Jones, contemptuously. 
 " I am sorry we have offended your saint- 
 ship I wish you a safe journey home, and 
 hope you will find ma and sister well." 
 
 " I have not compared myself with my 
 neighbors," said Frederic, without deigning 
 to notice Jones' last remark. " A pleasant 
 evening to you." 
 
 5
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 1 Desire not to live ong, but to live well 
 How long we live, not years, but actions tell." 
 
 THREE years had passed away with but 
 few remarkable incidents in the life of our 
 young man of business. Without becoming 
 a slave to his daily employments, their* 
 routine had become so habitual that it was 
 no longer a burden, and his mind was re- 
 deemed from the stupefying effects of a 
 monotonous round of business, by his en- 
 thusiasm for intellectual pursuits. As he 
 advanced year by year in his salary, he 
 assumed more and more of the maintenance 
 of the family, so that he began to feel in 
 reality, what he had long aspired to in 
 fancy, the solid satisfaction of being a stay 
 and support to his mother. 
 
 " What makes you so sober lately, Fred?" 
 asked Addie, Ifying hei head upon his 
 
 (60)
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 51 
 
 shoulder, one evening, as they sat together 
 on the sofa. " Have ' we' failed, or what 
 has happened ?" 
 
 " What little bird has revealed to you a 
 secret that is not known yet in Wall street?" 
 said Fred, with an attempt at a smile. 
 
 "Can it be I was right? do tell me, 
 Fred." 
 
 "Well, I suppose it must be generally 
 known to-morrow, so I may as well mention 
 it now. Our firm is on the verge of bank- 
 ruptcy ; the confidential clerk has left, this 
 week, in circumstances that now begin to look 
 suspicious. To-day there came in a demand 
 from the bank where we deposit the most, 
 for an enormous sum, which I more than sus- 
 pect he must have drawn in the name of the 
 firm. Just in the present state of things 
 there is no help or delay for it ; they must 
 break." 
 
 "How will this effect you?" inquired 
 Addie, anxiously, after a pause. 
 
 " Just in this way ; that I am thrown out
 
 52 FEED LAWRENCE. 
 
 of employment at a time when more than 
 half the firms are retrenching operations on 
 account of scarcity in the money-market. I 
 know several clerks that have been dismissed 
 lately from situations where they were giving 
 perfect satisfaction ; so you can imagine the 
 chances are very small for my forming a 
 new engagement." 
 
 "Ah, well! there is nothing to do but 
 '"trust and try/" said Addie, hopefully. 
 " I was going to ask you another thing, Fred, 
 or rather, tell you, for my mind is made up, 
 and I shall not ask your consent. I want to 
 begin teaching this spring." 
 
 ' Oh ! so you are growing too wise for a 
 scholar, and must begin to impart your sur- 
 plus wisdom." 
 
 " Now, don't laugh at me, Fred. I think 
 i am old enough to teach, and Charley 
 Mason says I have grown wonderfully dig- 
 nified of late." 
 
 " Indeed ! H&s Charley Mason come in 
 sollis'on wit/i your dignity, pray ? "
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 53 
 
 " Of course not, you silly boy ! But 1 
 took it as an encouragement, you kaow, and 
 really I think I could sustain very well the 
 dignity of a teacher. Mr. Seymour has 
 offered me the charge of his primary depart- 
 ment, and I have told him that I will com- 
 mence with the next term." 
 
 " But I cannot bear to have you give up 
 your studies now. When I had to leave 
 school myself, I resolved that you should 
 stay as long as you wanted to, at least if 
 any efforts of mine could bring it about." 
 
 " You are a dear, good brother. But, 
 suppose I have stayed as long as I want to ? 
 You know yourself, Fred, that it is not 
 necessary to give up study when one leaves 
 school. If you could accomplish as much as 
 you have done, occupied the whole day ia 
 the store, you shall not think me so stupid 
 that I cannot make some improvement be- 
 side teaching five hours a day." 
 
 " Well, have it as you will, since you are 
 of those who are born to command. There
 
 54 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 is one thing. we can study together and help 
 each other along." 
 
 " Yes, I doubt not we shall ' help each 
 ether along,' as the fly said to the loco- 
 motive. That reminds me, Fred, I want 
 you to teach me Greek." 
 
 " Certainly, I should love to have you 
 learn it, and then we can read it together." 
 
 " There, I am glad there is one sensible 
 brother in the world. I should have studied 
 Greek before this at school, but when I pro- 
 posed it, Mr. Seymour looked as quizzical as 
 if I had asked for a cardinal's hat. Then 
 the girls laughed at me, as if I was medi- 
 tating the most eccentric thing in the world ; 
 so I was discouraged." 
 
 " You must not be frightened, sorellina, at 
 the laugh of any one, from doing what your 
 own good sense tells you it is perfectly 
 right and proper for you to do. For my 
 part, I can see no objection to any man or 
 woman learning anything they pleabe ; espe- 
 cially a splen lid language like the Greek.''
 
 FRED IAWRENCE. 55 
 
 " I know I shall love it," exclaimed Addie, 
 with enthusiasm. " But, Fred, why is it 
 considered so oul of the way for ladies to 
 learn Greek ? It seems to me fully as use- 
 ful as half the studies that are deemed essen- 
 tial to a finished education." 
 
 " Yes, and more so than many of them/' 
 said Fred, " for it assists us greatly in the 
 study of the Bible ; and anything that will 
 render the meaning of that deeper or clearer 
 to us, should take the precedence of mere 
 secular knowledge. Besides, it is no more 
 difficult than many things that almost every 
 body studies." 
 
 " It will be delightful to study at home 
 with you," said Addie. " I shall enjoy it far 
 more than I have at school, for now I shall 
 feel that I am helping you and mother a 
 little." 
 
 ' It has been my ambition for these three 
 years," said Fred, " to earn enough for our 
 entire support, so that you and mother would 
 not need to work '
 
 C6 FEED LAWRENCE. 
 
 " And it is mine," Addie replied, " to work 
 and help you, so tliat mother can rest. There 
 is no reason why I should be a consumer 
 and not a producer, as the political econo- 
 mists say." 
 
 " Only," said Fred, half unconsciously, as 
 he stroked her sunny curls, " that it seems 
 as if you were made like birds and flowers, 
 not to toil and spin, but to live and be beau- 
 tiful." 
 
 " And be a lazy drone, while the others 
 work and are useful. For shame ! Mr. Flat- 
 terer, to teach me such a lesson. No, no ! 
 you have given me a good example all these 
 years, now you must help me to follow it. 
 I will be a worker as well as you, and our 
 mother shall be the queen bee to preside in 
 our hive."
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A SHOCK, sudden as that of an earthquake, 
 had arrested the movement of the company 
 by which Lawrence was employed. It fell 
 like at hunderbolt upon Mr. Brown, the chief 
 active member of the firm. Remarkable for 
 caution in his commercial operations, failure 
 had been deemed for him utterly impossible ; 
 but the defalcation of his head clerk, and a 
 combination of circumstances beyond his own 
 control, had involved his affairs in hopeless 
 confusion, and the wealth accumulated in a 
 whole lifetime was swept from his grasp in 
 an hour. 
 
 The calamity was too great for his physi- 
 cal energies. Riches had been the hope, 
 the treasure, the idol of his soul, and these 
 gone, life was stripped of all its attractions. 
 A violent fever prd strated him during several 
 (57)
 
 58 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 weeks, and the settlement must be effected 
 without his assistance. The other partners 
 in the firm had not for years held an active 
 part in the business, nor could they easily 
 take up and unravel the tangled web of 
 affairs at their present crisis. The only 
 clerk perfectly acquainted with the condition 
 of things was just then a resident of " parts 
 unknown ;" so that the weight of duty fell 
 on Lawrence. Though young, he had al- 
 ready proved himself both faithful and com- 
 petent ; and his employers were not now 
 disappointed in the confidence they reposed 
 in him. 
 
 Five weeks, more crowded than ever with 
 intense application, weighed heavily upon the 
 energies of the young clerk, while the uncer- 
 tainty of obtaining another situation when 
 this should fail, presented not the brightest 
 prospect to his anticipations. 
 
 But " there's a divinity that shapes our 
 ends," and in following earnestly and patient 
 ly the path of duty, we need not to see the
 
 PEED LAWRENCE. 59 
 
 way before us. That path is sure to " lead us 
 out into a large place, set our feet on a rock, 
 and establish our goings." 
 
 " Who is that young man who is balancing 
 the accounts of Smith, Brown & Co. ?" asked 
 Mr. Silver, of his son and partner. Silver 
 & Sons were among the principal creditors 
 of the insolvent firm, and had kept a shrewd 
 lookout during the settlement of affairs. 
 
 " Lawrence, I believe his name is," replied 
 the son ;, " very young, isn't he ?" 
 
 " Hardly twenty I should think, but I tell 
 you he lias a wise head on young shoulders. 
 He has been their principal book-keeper, they 
 tell me, for more than a year back, and I cer- 
 tainly never saw books better kept." 
 
 "Answer our turn, when Warren leaves?'' 
 
 " Precisely, I think ; I have watched his 
 movements more 'than he is aware of, and it 
 is my opinion that we should look far to find 
 a better one," 
 
 " We don't need him for a month yet." 
 
 "No, but we had better secure him at
 
 60 
 
 once," said Silver, senior, with a sudden fit 
 of liberality. " We had better not lose him, 
 and we can find employment for him as soon 
 as he has finished his present business." 
 
 As the result of this dialogue, Frederic 
 Lawrence received an offer of the situation 
 as book-keeper in Silver & Sons' large estab- 
 lishment, with an increased salary. The 
 offer was far more eligible than he could 
 even have hoped in the circumstances, and 
 had great effect in raising his spirits and re- 
 moving the transient solicitude which had 
 weighed upon his mind. 
 
 Mr. Silver the father was recognized on 
 'Change as a " large importer." His mag- 
 nitude certainly was not physical, for he was 
 a short, spare little figure, that looked as if 
 it had shrivelled up as mummies do, even 
 from its original diminutive proportions. 
 The most noticeable feature of his face was a 
 remarkably acuminated nose. This is said 
 to be a token of business capacity ; whether 
 serving as a wedge to penetrate through the
 
 FRED ^AWAENCE. 61 
 
 pressure of affairs, or for some other purpose, 
 physiological science does not inform us. 
 
 Nor could magnitude of soul have been as- 
 cribed to the importer, for no philosopher from 
 Socrates to Spurzheim would have found evi- 
 dence in conduct or cranium of a redundan- 
 cy of that quality. The largeness intended 
 must have been a commercial figure of speech, 
 applying to the man a term that belonged only 
 to his boxes and bales and importation lists. 
 It was not so great a mistake after all, for 
 these were his treasures, and on these was 
 his heart also. 
 
 Mr. Silver, the father, was not only the 
 oldest partner, but decidedly the moving 
 spirit in the firm. His sons performed their 
 stipulated share in the business, received 
 their dividends, and thanked their stars that 
 the senior partner had force enough to move 
 the whole machinery without interference 
 from them : looking forward with quite as 
 much satisfaction as regret, to the time when a 
 general dividend should be made of all the 

 
 62 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 hoarded accumulations of the old man's life. 
 To our Fred, the change was in many re- 
 spects a favorable one. He became ac- 
 quainted with business on a larger scale, and 
 his general intelligence proportionally in- 
 creased. The rigid exactness which was re- 
 quired in the performance of all his duties, 
 had already become a habit, and agreed well 
 with the rule which he had proposed to him- 
 self from the beginning. 
 
 The standard of integrity in the external 
 dealings of the firm, was not indeed quite as 
 high as that which he had been led from 
 early instruction to adopt ; for the golden 
 rule of commerce seems to be, " Do unto 
 others as you expect them to do to you,' ? not 
 " as you would have them do." Still, in the 
 discharge of his own duties, the two rules of 
 conduct seldom came in collision, for, how 
 ever men may disregard the higher law of 
 God in their own actions, few would dis- 
 pense with the observance of it in those who 
 have dealings with them.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 " Ay, sir; to be honest, as this world goes, 
 Is to be one picked out of ten thousand." 
 
 FREDERIC had been but a few mcnths in 
 nis new situation, when Mr. Silver said to 
 him, one morning 
 
 " Smith is sick and off duty, Lawrence ; 
 you will therefore have to go down to the 
 custom-house and certify this invoice." 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Frederic, promptly, taking 
 the bill and glancing over it. But in a 
 moment he added, with some surprise 
 
 " There is a mistake here, Mr. Silver ; I 
 credited, yesterday, three hundred pieces of 
 black silk, and there are but two hundred 
 and fifty on the invoice." 
 
 "Well, what then?" 
 
 " I will rectify it, shall I not ? 7 
 
 " No, sir, no ; it is all right, you will pass 
 't just as it is." 
 
 (63)
 
 64 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 " But I cannot understand how it is right, 
 sir," said Frederic, respectfully. " We cer- 
 tainly owe duties on all the goods imported; 
 and either the firm in Lyons have over- 
 charged, or this copy of the invoice is incor- 
 rect." 
 
 " That is my business, sir ; yours is to 
 obey orders." 
 
 " But not to disobey my conscience, Mr. 
 Silver," replied Frederic, beginning to per- 
 ceive the truth of the matter. 
 
 " Your conscience has nothing to do in the 
 case," said the merchant, whose cracked 
 voice betrayed the rising of angry passions. 
 " The business is mine : if you are not pre- 
 pared to perform the service required, there 
 is but one alternative. Will you go ?" 
 
 "Not to swear to an untruth, sir," said 
 Frederic, firmly. 
 
 " Very well, you know the consequence." 
 
 Fred returned to his desk with a heavy 
 heart. Must he {gain be thrown out of 
 employment, when Hs cherished plans were
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 65 
 
 apparently so near fulfilment? Though he 
 applied himself more closely than ever to his 
 task, troublesome questions were continually 
 passing through his mind. Had he not, after 
 all, been too conscientious? Was it his 
 business to question the honesty of an act, 
 performed merely for the interest oi 
 another ? If he was employed as an 
 instrument in doing a wrong thing, was the 
 fault in the instrument, or in the person who 
 employed it? "In both," conscience replied, 
 " since the instrument has a will of its own, 
 and is capable of discriminating right from 
 wrong." " I will not be anybody's tool for 
 wrong-doing," added self-respect. " I am 
 not a slave, to be bought for five hundred 
 a-year, subject, body and soul, mind and 
 strength, to the use of another. For a just 
 equivalent, I will sell a certain amount oi 
 time and energy, but not my conscience. 
 No, I have learned to be poor, and I am 
 little afraid of poverty, but I dare not walk 
 God's earth with the brand of perjury upon 
 6*
 
 66 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 me." He worked on with more than usual 
 diligence, to bring up some little arrears, 
 and leave his accounts exactly balanced with 
 that Saturday night. 
 
 When the clerks received their week's 
 wages, Mr. Silver, senior, had left the store, 
 and nothing was said by his son of Law- 
 rence's dismission. Not knowing whether 
 the incident of the morning was known to 
 him, Frederic took no other leave than a 
 polite ' Good evening.' 
 
 He had resolved not to disturb the Sab- 
 bath tranquillity at home by anxiety about 
 his own affairs, and therefore forebore to 
 mention to his mother and sister what had 
 happened. Whatever uneasiness might have 
 remained upon his mind passed away with 
 the quiet cheerfulness of the Sabbath, and 
 the encouragement its instructions afforded. 
 Worldly troubles lost their power to annoy ; 
 the peace of a quiet conscience seemed more 
 valuable than the highest earthly pros 
 perity ; the conflict of principles was ended.
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. G1 
 
 On Monday morning Frederic went a 
 little later than usual to his place of busi- 
 ness. 
 
 " I have called, Mr. Silver," said he, ap- 
 proaching the desk where that gentleman 
 was already seated, " to inquire if you have 
 any further need of my services." 
 _ Whether the influences of the Sabbath had 
 aroused a higher moral sense, or whether, 
 when the momentary irritation had subsided, 
 his judgment had suggested that conscience 
 was not, after all, the worst quality that 
 could be possessed by a confidential clerk, 
 the mind of Mr. Silver was in quite a differ- 
 ent state this morning from that in which it 
 nad been two days before. 
 
 " As much need as usual," he replied 
 briefly, but with a smile that was almost 
 benevolent. 
 
 " From your remarks on Saturday morn- 
 ing," said Frederic, "I inferred that you 
 intended making a change of book-keepers." 
 
 " You were mistaken then, Lawrence. I
 
 68 FRED LAWEENCE. 
 
 desire that you will retain your situation, 
 and continue to discharge its duties as faith- 
 fully as you have done hitherto." 
 
 Mr. Silver was far enough from being 
 addicted to flattery ; and if rarity is any test 
 of value, a word of praise from him was well 
 worth a two hours' eulogy from a more com- 
 municative person. From that day Frederic 
 Lawrence advanced rapidly in the esteem 
 and confidence of his employers. His in- 
 tegrity, severely tried, and not found want- 
 ing, in a case evidently contrary to his own 
 interests, had proved him worthy of the 
 most unbounded trust
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Walking his round of duty 
 
 Serenely day by day ; 
 With a strong man's arm of labor 
 
 And childhood's heart of play." 
 
 WHnrre*. 
 
 As he advanced in business, our hero had 
 not lost his interest, nor remitted his dili- 
 gence in study. In the four years after 
 leaving school he had read many of the 
 Greek and Latin authors included in the 
 ordinary collegiate course ; and this not as 
 a self-imposed task, but from a real love of 
 those noble languages, and a cordial appre- 
 ciation of their beauties. He was not in 
 that social position which demands a show 
 of refined taste, with or without the reality ; 
 and therefore his enjoyment of the riches of 
 literature had a freshness and strength un- 
 tainted by affectation. The influence of such 
 studies, pursued witl hcirty interest, could
 
 70 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 not but be felt in liberalizing and enriching 
 the mind. 
 
 He had studied several of the natural 
 fcciences, one after another, and during the 
 warmer months employed many a pleasant 
 half holiday, earned by extra diligence, in 
 long walks into the country for the collection 
 of specimens ; thus by the same means gain- 
 ing three important ends : health, amuse- 
 ment, and instruction. 
 
 As his mind thus grew and strengthened, 
 by its appropriate food, he found many things 
 to minister to his happiness ; life seemed 
 larger, and more full of interest ; in his soul 
 there was that fulness of conscious life and 
 energy which alone is capable of realizing 
 the truth, " To be living, is sublime." 
 
 Those persons cannot be conscious of the 
 loss they sustain who expend the energies of 
 life upon empty amusements, which con- 
 tribute nothing to the growth of the mental 
 powers. Seeking happiness only, they cramp 
 and restrain those very faculties in them
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 71 
 
 which are most capable of happiness, and 
 thus disappoint themselves. 
 
 One day in July it was one month more 
 than four years since Fred had left school 
 he- received an unexpected call from his old 
 friend and classmate, Charles Mason. Their 
 friendship had not been interrupted through 
 the years that had . separated them ; the col- 
 lege vacation had always brought them 
 together ; and a frequent and familiar 
 correspondence had kept each quite well 
 acquainted with the other's affairs. 
 
 " So you have got through college at last, 
 Charley. Graduated as well as you ex- 
 pected ?" 
 
 " Yes, because I did not expect very much. 
 I can tell you, Fred. I am mortally glad to 
 be out of the scrape." 
 
 " Well, what will you do next?" 
 
 " Travel, I suppose. Father wants me to 
 go to Europe for a few months. He thinks 
 it will improve my mind, and be good for 
 my health, and all that sort of thing. Father
 
 72 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 goes on business to England in the next 
 steamer, and I suppose I shall go too. He 
 will go with me as far as Paris, and then 
 leave me to pursue my journey alone." 
 
 " It will be splendid. I half envy you, 
 Charley." 
 
 " How I wish you were going with me, 
 Fred. That is all that's lacking to make 
 me want to go." 
 
 " Well, my time will come by and by. 
 Perhaps we will go together some day, after 
 all. I should like it grandly, of course, but 
 I have learned to do without some of the 
 pleasant things." 
 
 "That you have, Fred, and nobly, too. 
 But it must be confessed you get along 
 wonderfully well without these 'pleasant 
 things,' as you call them. You are more of a 
 man now, after your four years of work and 
 study, mixed together, than I am with all 
 the means of improvement that old Yale 
 could afford." 
 
 " You are altogether too subject to the
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 73 
 
 blues, Charley. You never will value your 
 privileges as I have been trying to make 
 you do for the last four years. Whatever 
 you may say, looking on the dark side, as 
 you do now, it is, and must be, a great 
 advantage to devote four of your best years, 
 uninterrupted by business cares, to the work 
 of preparing yourself for life. I could make 
 out a ' shady side/ too, rather darker than 
 yours ; only I don't fancy it quite so well aa 
 the bright one." 
 
 "It would be strange to hear you com 
 plaining of anything, Fred." 
 
 " I don't mean to complain, but you can 
 see there is a great deal lost by going 
 through life in such a hurry as I am obliged 
 to be in. It seems to me I have come into 
 the world of action, and am going through 
 it like a ball out of a cannon." 
 
 " You do more execution, at all events, 
 Fred, than if you rolled through life like a 
 ten-pin ball, one that had lost its way at 
 that. But I have not inquired after your
 
 74 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 mother and sister are they well, as usual? 
 I may call and see you all, mayn't I, before 
 I go?" 
 
 " Happy to see you any time, Charley 
 We are all well at home."
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 There's a divinity that shapes our ends." 
 
 HAITI it. 
 
 IT was not many weeks after the above 
 Conversation that Frederic Lawrence was 
 summoned to a special conference with his 
 employer. This was no unusual tiling, for 
 the old man was becoming unusually com 
 raunicative as age increased upon him. Per- 
 haps he wished that Frederic should become 
 acquainted with all his plans for the manage- 
 ment of the business, before he was obliged 
 to leave his earthly employments ; at all 
 events he found in him a more intelligent 
 listener than in either of his sons. For them 
 it was enough if affairs moved on with 
 the usual results to themselves : they took 
 little interest in the details. But this time 
 Mr. Silver had a more definite object in 
 
 (75)
 
 76 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 " I wish to make a proposition," said he, 
 as Frederic entered the office. " Have you 
 any objection to a trip to Europe ?" 
 
 " Not the slightest, sir," replied Fred ; with 
 a quiet smile. 
 
 "I am too old to make the journey 
 myself," continued the merchant, " and 
 neither of my sons feels inclined to go this 
 time ; but I think you can transact the busi- 
 ness as well as any one else. You speak 
 French, I believe ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 "Le Brun tells me yon speak it like a 
 native ; and though he would like the trip 
 for himself, I suppose, I am much more 
 inclined to intrust the affair to you. The 
 business is this : The firm in Paris of whom 
 we have imported all our shawls, have 
 failed, and arrangements are to be made 
 with a new one. I have not decided between 
 two or three houses ; I leave that to your 
 discretion. Then I wish to arrange for a 
 larger importation of silk fabrics next year.
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 77 
 
 which must come partly from Lyons and 
 partly from Leghorn. You had better go 
 direct to Paris, from there south, and return 
 oy the Leghorn steamer. Allowing three 
 or four weeks in Europe, which will be 
 enough to transact all the business, you need 
 not be absent more than six or eight weeks. 
 How soon can you be ready to start ?" 
 
 " The Havre steamer sails day after to- 
 morrow. I can be ready then, sir." 
 
 " That's right that's right ! Be always 
 prompt and ready, and you are sure to suc- 
 ceed in life." 
 
 Frederic bowed and withdrew. He felt 
 very much like swinging his hat and shouting 
 " Hurrah," as he hastened home to announce 
 his departure. He should see Europe, after 
 all ! the object of his boyish drtams, the 
 scene of so many fancied adventures. To 
 be sure, this was only a business trip ; but 
 all of life seemed very like a hurried business 
 journey to him; and yet he had contrived 
 to pick up some improvement and Diversion 
 7*
 
 78 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 by the way, and so he meant tc do for the 
 future. Hurrah for the Old World ! 
 
 " What are you at home for at this timo 
 of day ? " asked Addie, as her brother entered 
 the front door early in the afternoon. 
 
 " Only because I was sent." 
 
 " Received your dismission then, have you ? 
 Another case of conscience ? " 
 
 " A case of inclination, rather. Where do 
 you suppose they are going to send me ?" < 
 
 "Send you? To Halifax, I suppose, for 
 bad conduct." 
 
 " Well, you are not so very wrong there," 
 said Fred, laughing ; " only you should have 
 guessed a little farther off than Halifax." 
 
 " Jericho, then, perhaps." 
 
 " Not quite, but another big city across 
 the water." 
 
 " What, you are not going to sea !" 
 
 " Oh, yes, I expect to see a great many 
 things." 
 
 " Well, do talk plain English for once, so 
 that a body can understand you. Have
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. . 79 
 
 yon concluded to go into the country with 
 me?" 
 
 " No, but I am going out of it, without 
 you, unfortunately." 
 
 " There, that will do for nonsense. Now, 
 tell me, you old Tease, what you are going 
 to do." 
 
 " "Well, what do you think of a voyage to 
 Europe ?" 
 
 "I think it would be a very fine thing, 
 rather finer than a voyage to the moon, per- 
 haps." 
 
 " But a great deal more possible. The 
 fact is, I sail for Havre by the next steamer." 
 
 "Fred Lawrence, what are you talking 
 about ? You are not in earnest." 
 
 "But I am, though. It is a sober fact, 
 Addie, and what is more, the steamer goea 
 Saturday morning. So, if you have any dis- 
 patches for Europe, be preparing them." 
 
 " Mother, what do you suppose it means?" 
 exclaimed Addie, dragging the culprit after 
 her into the parlor. " This Fred, here, saya
 
 80 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 he is going to start for France next Saturday 
 morning." 
 
 " Fred can tell us what it means, I sup- 
 pose," said Mrs. Lawrence. 
 
 " Addie is very incredulous. I was trying 
 to make her understand that I am sent on 
 some business of the firm to Paris, and from 
 there to Lyons and Leghorn." 
 
 " It is a long journey. Had they no one 
 to send but you ? " 
 
 " I presume they could find a thousand 
 that would be glad to make the tour of 
 Europe, with their expenses paid ; but it 
 seems they choose to confer the favor on me."' 
 
 " The favor, with the hazard. It is rather 
 hard to let you go so suddenly, my son." 
 
 " Oh, mother, it is nothing to go to Europe, 
 when there are thousands coming and going 
 every day !" 
 
 " Well, I will try and not think of the 
 danger. But I do not see how you can pos, 
 sibly be ready for so long a .journey in a da^ 
 and a hall:"
 
 PRED LAWRENCE. 81 
 
 "Don't trouble yourself about tlie prepa- 
 ration. I shall want no baggage but my 
 valise, and I can pack tliat in less than an 
 hour." 
 
 ' ! The easiest thing in the world," said 
 Addie ; " only to shoulder your pack and 
 march off. I never saw a man yet who had 
 the slightest idea of what is needed in pre- 
 paring for a journey." 
 
 " And I never saw a woman who did not 
 give herself the most unreasonable amount 
 of trouble in getting ready to go fifty miles. 
 It is the old story of " big trunk, little trunk, 
 bandbox and bundle ;" the last two articles 
 generally multiplied to a dozen or more. 
 But excuse me, Addic, I won't quarrel any 
 more. Only don't worry yourself about my 
 clothing." 
 
 Nevertheless, the next day was one of 
 great bustle and preparation. Addie could 
 not think of having her brother go on his 
 European travels without every article of 
 apparel in the Quest order.
 
 82 FRED LAWRENCE 
 
 " It seems so strange that these will be 
 opened in Paris," said she, as she tucked a 
 handkerchief into the last remaining crevice 
 of the valise. 
 
 " Shall I tie that handkerchief around the 
 neck of Napoleon's bust in the Hotel des 
 Invalides, and bring it to you for a keep- 
 Bake ?" 
 
 " Yes, do if it won't be considered an 
 indignity to the great Emperor. I wish I 
 were going with you, Fred." 
 
 " So do I, but you know I shall be rich 
 by and by, and then we will all make a tour 
 together." 
 
 " Well, then, as the next best thing, you 
 must look twice at every thing, once for me 
 and once for yourself, so that I may see a 
 little through your eyes." 
 
 " I shall not have time to write very long 
 letters, but I will keep notes of everything by 
 the way, and my note-book shall be at yonr 
 service when I get home." 
 
 Saturday morning came ; the preparations
 
 FRED LAWEENCE. 83 
 
 were completed, and nothing remained but 
 the leave-taking the hardest part, perhaps, 
 of all the antecedents to a voyage. 
 
 " It is ten o'clock, mother, and I must go, 
 as I have to call at the store. It would not 
 do to miss the steamer." 
 
 " Good-bye, my son, take all possible care 
 of yourself, and God keep you !" 
 
 " Good-bye, dear mother. Don't be anxious. 
 You know I am always sure to turn up safe 
 in the end." 
 
 "My trust is higher than in your good 
 fortunes. But be careful, my son, and do 
 not let that love of adventure lead you into 
 needless dangers." 
 
 " Good-bye, Addie, what shall I bring you ?' 
 
 " Yourself in good order, Fred ; it is all I 
 will ask." 
 
 " Well, good-bye au revoir in six weeks. 
 Remember, mother, don't have any fears on 
 my account. I will be careful."
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 'In the darkness as in daylight, 
 
 On the water as cm land, 
 God's eye is looking on us, 
 And beneath us is his hand 1" 
 
 WHITTIER. 
 
 "A LIFE on the ocean wave," Fred 
 whistled to himself, as he paced the deck, 
 while the noble steamer plowed her way 
 through the Narrows, and began to roll and 
 swing with the heavy swell from the open 
 sea. He felt as if he had been living in a 
 nutshell all his life, shut up between close 
 walls in a crowded city. And even in the 
 country, where he had always felt free as a 
 bird let loose, there were trees and fences 
 and houses always in sight. He had really 
 been twenty years a prisoner, and fancied 
 himself free. 
 
 Now, for the first time, he had room to 
 breath' , and think, and live. He gazed upon 
 (84)
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 85 
 
 the boundless expa ise, with the distant ho- 
 rizon for its walls, the sky its only ceiling, 
 and the fathomless depths of the ocean ita 
 foundation ; and his mind seemed to grow 
 as it stretched to take in the largeness of tho 
 idea. 
 
 As the ship emerged into the ocean, be- 
 yond the protection of the harbor, most of the 
 passengers yielded to the effects of the swell, 
 and began to disappear below. Fred held 
 out manfully. " I shall forfeit Uncle James' 
 diploma of sailorship," said he to himself, 
 " if I give way to the first attack." 
 
 He stayed on deck in the cool fresh air, 
 all the evening, watching the stars as they 
 came out in the clear sky, and were reflected 
 in the blue waters. His thoughts went back 
 and lingered lovingly in the little home-cir 
 cle where he knew two anxious ones wero 
 thinking, perhaps talking of him. He wished 
 he could inspire them with half the hope and 
 enthusiasm he felt in view of the voyage, 
 then it would not seem to tliem so terrible a 
 3
 
 6 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 thing to cross the ocean and be thousands 
 of miles from home. 
 
 While Fred was leaning over the railing 
 gazing into the water, but with his thoughts 
 on land, a hand was laid familiarly on his 
 arm. He started from his reverie, and look- 
 ed up, when the stranger said 
 
 " Pardon the intrusion ; your name is Law- 
 rence, I believe ?" 
 
 The speaker was a young man of about his 
 own age, whom Frederic remembered to have 
 noticed as he came on board, but afterwards 
 lost among the crowd. 
 
 " You are right," he replied, " but I can- 
 not at this moment recall your name, if, in 
 deed, I have before had the pleasure of your 
 acquaintance." 
 
 " My name is Miller," said the other. " I 
 eaw yours on the captain's book, and felt 
 sure that you must be a friend of a classmate 
 of mine, Charles Mason. I had so often 
 heard him speak of you, that I considered 
 myself almost a friend at second hand."
 
 FRED LAWKENCE. 87 
 
 "I shall be most happy to renew the 
 friendship in person," said Lawrence, with a 
 cordial grasp of the hand. (i I have heard 
 of you very frequently through Mason, dur- 
 ing the last four years." 
 
 " He was my chum during nearly all that 
 time, and more intimately allied with me 
 than with almost any one else ; excepting 
 always his friend Lawrence, whom he seemed 
 lo consider somewhere between a brother and 
 a patron saint. You had a sort of squat- 
 ter's right in his regards, it must be con- 
 fessed." 
 
 " Yes, but by no means an exclusive one," 
 replied Frederic, with a smile. " We almost 
 grew up together in school ; and knowing 
 Charley Mason as you do, you will easily 
 believe I became much attached to him. He 
 is in Europe just now, you know." 
 
 " Yes ; I hope to meet him in Paris, and 
 then we shall travel together for several 
 months, I suppose. You go to Paris, do you 
 not ? It would be a curious chance if we
 
 88 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 should all meet there. He does not expect 
 me, so it will be a double surprise." 
 
 " Paris is my first stopping-place ; but I 
 am only on a business trip, and though I go 
 as far south as Leghorn, I expect to be at 
 home in less than two months." 
 
 " Perhaps we can arrange it to go so far 
 together ; that is, if you will like it." 
 
 " Nothing could give me greater pleasure,'' 
 replied Lawrence. 
 
 The new acquaintanceship was very soon 
 consolidated into a friendship. Twelve days 
 on shipboard are worth more than as many 
 months on land for forming an intimacy, if 
 there is any congeniality of feeling at the 
 commencement. 
 
 Miller was contemplating a rambling tour 
 of Europe as a further preparation for the 
 literary pursuits to which he intended devot- 
 ing his life. It was a valuable acquaintance 
 to Lawrence. He was well qualified to ap- 
 preciate in another, though he had only to a 
 limited degree attained, himself, that elegant
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 89 
 
 culture which literature bestows upon the 
 mind. Miller had a hearty interest in all 
 that is beautiful or wonderful in nature and 
 art ; but it was the interest of a healthy and 
 active mind in the natural supply of its 
 tastes and desires. He was far enough from 
 that sickly sentimentalism which sometimes 
 seems to characterize incipient genius. He 
 did not effect long hair and negligence 
 of apparel, 
 
 " Nor a la Byron wear his collar down." 
 
 Nor did he scribble sonnets on the railings, 
 or on the fly-leaves in the ship's library. In 
 short, the poetical character was proved in 
 him, not so much by any outward badge, as 
 by the evidence of a strong mind, a refined 
 imagination, and a conscientious desire to 
 serve mankind by contributing to the do- 
 niands of the same faculties in others. 
 
 Twelve days upon the ocean passed very 
 quickly to our young adventurers. They 
 were quite free from the ennui which those 
 8*
 
 90 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 endured who could only change from state 
 room to cabin, and back again from cabin to 
 state-room, anticipating and retrospecting 
 Mie four great events of the day, breakfast, 
 luncheon, dinner, and supper. To them, on 
 the contrary, every object presented some 
 point of interest. The various parts of the 
 ship, the working of its ponderous machinery, 
 even the routine, novel to them, of shipboard 
 life, all attracted their notice, and added to 
 their stock of information. 
 
 On the eleventh day, the white cliffs of 
 Dover were visible above the blue waters ; 
 and our travellers gazed long and earnestly 
 at their first view of the land of their 
 fathers. It was with a feeling of regret 
 that Lawrence saw them disappear as if sink- 
 ing into the waves. It was tantalizing to 
 be so near, and not even to set his foot upon 
 English soil. But he was rapidly approach- 
 ing the end of the voyage, and his mind was 
 soon occupied with anticipations of scenes in 
 foreign lands.
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 91 
 
 The next morning, as they readied the 
 deck, the old town of Havre, with its massive 
 round tower, was in full view. Our two 
 friends amused themselves with examining 
 its quaint old buildings by means of a field 
 glass, speculating upon the uses of different 
 parts of the town, and conjuring up from his- 
 tory the distinguished characters that had 
 acted a part within its walls. 
 
 The custom-house officer, with his curious 
 medley of French and English, first reminded 
 them that the business of life had recom- 
 menced for them, after a fortnight's vacation. 
 Very few formalities were required with 
 their light baggage, before our two travel- 
 ler? found themselves on the railway train 
 for the great capital, where they arrived 
 early in the afternoon. After examining the 
 books of several hotels, they were fortunate 
 anough to find the name of Charles Mason, 
 Jr., from New York, and the three friends 
 were very speedily established in the same 
 lodgings. Mason's joy knew no bounds at
 
 02 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 this unexpected meeting with the two per 
 sons of all the world whom he most desired 
 to see at that particular time and place. 
 
 " There, Fred," he exclaimed, in his excite- 
 ment, " I always said you were my good 
 genius, and to find you dropping down upon 
 me here, just at the time when I most needed 
 you, I really am convinced of it. I have 
 been dying of home-sickness ever since father 
 left me here, a week ago Paris has seemed 
 the dullest place in the world to me. Now 
 you two are here, I begin to think there may 
 be something in it, after all. And then, I 
 have always wanted that you should be- 
 come acquainted, and it was quite comical 
 that you should meet on the same ship com- 
 ing to my rescue. It is good enough fc r a 
 story.''
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 1 WELL, what are you going to see ic 
 I 'aris ? " Mason inquired, the next morning, 
 at breakfast. 
 
 " The Louvre, of course, and the Luxem- 
 bourg," said Miller, " and pictures and stat- 
 uary wherever they are to be found." 
 
 " Business will have to be the chief thing 
 with me," said Lawrence, " but I want to 
 see the Hotel des Invalides, and the Trium- 
 phal Arches, and the Bourse." 
 
 " Everythhig that has the name of Napo- 
 leon the First connected with it," said 
 Mason, laughing. " You haven't given up 
 hero-worship yet, Fred." 
 
 " Not quite. I think great men are too 
 few and far between not to be appreciated 
 when they do appear. Besides, I believe I 
 have a small errnnd to fulfil at the Invalides/ 
 
 (93)
 
 94 PEED LAWBSNCE. 
 
 " There is one place to which I wish to go," 
 said Miller, " anl that is the theatre where 
 Rachel is acting." 
 
 " A capital idea. Suppose we go there 
 to-night. What say you, Fred ? " 
 
 " As far as I myself am concerned, I must 
 say no, Charley. You know I never go to 
 the theatre at home." 
 
 " But it is quite a different thing here, you 
 know. The acting is of the very highest 
 order, and as everybody goes, good, bad, 
 and indifferent, there is no use in one's dis- 
 senting." 
 
 " I know there is some difference," replied 
 Lawrence, " but not quite enough to alter 
 my opinion. I have thought over the matter 
 pretty thoroughly, and decided that there 
 are fewer arguments for than against the 
 theatre ; and having come to that conclusion, 
 I shall want some very good reasons for 
 altering it." 
 
 " I know that," said Mason, laughing. 
 " You are as ' set in your ways ' as a certain
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 95 
 
 Deacon Goodman that I heard of once ; and 
 when you have taken your position, I am 
 only playing the game of Xerxes at Mount 
 Athos in attempting to move you." 
 
 "I should never attend the theatre at 
 home," said Miller, " though I have always 
 wished to hear a superior actor. There are 
 too many degrading associations connected 
 with it, and I suppose its influence is in most 
 cases injurious. But here in Paris, where, 
 there is not. a soul that knows us, our ex- 
 ample certainly cannot have any effect. I 
 think we may go to hear the first tragedienne 
 of the age, with profit to ourselves, and no 
 harm to any one else." 
 
 "We are not always so sure of that," 
 replied Lawrence. " I knew a distinguished 
 professor of elocution, in one of our home 
 colleges, who, on a visit to a distant city, 
 went to hear and see a celebrated actor. He 
 thought himself entirely unknown, so that 
 his influence would be nothing, and went, aa 
 you go, I suppose, only to study a good
 
 90 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 model of oratory. He was rather mortifiec^ 
 then, to find himself seated next to a fellow- 
 townsman, and the very person of all the 
 world whom he least desired to meet in 
 those circumstances ; a man of no moral 
 principle, with whom he had held frequent 
 discussions on questions of conduct, and who 
 would greatly rejoice to detect any want 
 of consistency in one who professed te be 
 governed by conscience." 
 
 " But we are neither ministers nor profes- 
 sors," replied Miller ; " and then, here it is so 
 common, I am sure no one would look twice 
 at the phenomenon of three young men going 
 to a theatre. And if they did, what is the 
 example of three in a million ? " 
 
 " This, at least," said Lawrence, " that the 
 million will never be right until the particu- 
 lar ones that compose the million do their 
 duty." 
 
 " Certainly ; but if one begins, how is he 
 to be sure that nine hundred and ninety-nine 
 thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine wiU
 
 FEED LAWRENCE. 
 
 do their part, so that his plan of general 
 improvement will not fall through at last, 
 for want of support." 
 
 " If one does his own duty," said Law- 
 rence, " I think lie need not take the bur- 
 den of the rest of the million upon him- 
 self." 
 
 " But we were speaking of influence," said 
 Miller. " If my example is not of the 
 slightest force either way, and the thing to 
 be done is innoc'ent to me, I see no reason 
 for refraining from it, because it might be 
 injurious to others. After all, this whole 
 argument about individual influence seems 
 to me fallacious. Since the days of Archi- 
 medes I think no man has attempted to move 
 the world." 
 
 " But, since Archimedes never attained the 
 position he wanted," replied Lawrence, "I 
 imagine the world, if moved at all, will have 
 to be moved by multitudes of smaller levers, 
 used by different hands. 'Hie direction of 
 the whole is not entrusted to any human 
 9
 
 98 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 mind, but still tlicir working may not be aa 
 disconnected as it might appear." 
 
 " Well, you have the best of the argument, 
 apparently," said Miller, " but still I believe 
 I shall risk the effect of my single influence 
 and hear Rachel, if she appears to-night"
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 "True to the kindred points of heaven and hone 
 
 "WHAT will you do with yourself this 
 evening, Fred?" inquired Mason, as they 
 rose from dinner ; " I arn sure you need some 
 recreation more than we do ; for you have 
 been attending to your business all day, 
 while we have been wandering about the 
 city, or lounging upon the Boulevards, and 
 skipping stones into the Seine." 
 
 " I must write letters home to-night," said 
 Lawrence, " for the steamer goes out to-mor- 
 row, and the mail leaves here early in the 
 morning." 
 
 " That's true," exclaimed Miller" I had 
 forgotten it entirely. I shall have to write 
 after we return, just to announce my arrival. 
 It will be so much the greater proof of 
 
 (99)
 
 100 FEED LAWEBNCE. 
 
 remembrance if I sit up into the small hours 
 to accomplish the feat." 
 
 The classmates soon went their way, 
 leaving Fred to solitude and his writing 
 case. Perhaps we may be forgiven if we 
 look into the letter he is writing : 
 
 " DEAR ADDIB : 
 
 " I doubt not you are waiting 
 impatiently for your first letter from foreign 
 lands, and perhaps also for the assurance of 
 my safe arrival. Do not blame me, however, 
 for the delay ; this will go by the first New 
 York mail since I came here. There is 
 something majestic in the movements of 
 these ocean steamers ; they will not hurry 
 for anybody's impatience. 
 
 " I had a very pleasant passage, only not 
 quite enough variety ; the weather was 
 beautiful all the time, and the ocean com- 
 paratively calm. I suppose you think that 
 the very best weather possible for a voyage ; 
 but I should like to have seen a storm -just
 
 FRED LAWBENCE. 101 
 
 a very small one, you know for the sake of 
 curiosity. I had no time for sea-sickness, 
 because I wanted to make the most of all 
 the time for seeing and learning ; so after a 
 few wry faces the first day or two, I was 
 quite free from it. It was rather comical, 
 though, to watch the unfortunate ones who 
 were victims to the mcd de mer. That waa 
 not very good-natured, you think. 
 
 " I found on board an intimate friend and 
 classmate of Charley Mason's. He is really 
 a very pleasant acquaintance, and has made 
 the journey much more interesting to me. 
 We found Charley, too, in Paris, yesterday ; 
 so we are all three together. 
 
 " Well, what of Paris ? you are asking. 
 I cannot tell you much about it yet. Did 
 you ever hear of a man who 
 
 1 Couldn't see the town, 
 There were so many houses ' f 
 
 9 
 
 " That is just my condition here. The dust, 
 and noise, and confusion, are much the same
 
 102 FEED LAWRENCE. 
 
 as iii any other city, and that is the most 1 
 have seen or heard, as yet. Business will 
 occupy me quite as closely as ever during 
 the few days I can remain, so I have not 
 much time to realize that I am in the greai 
 capital of civilization. 
 
 " I have seen the Bourse, however, and 
 several of the fine public squares ; and shall 
 find time, in the chinks of business, to visit 
 most of the buildings and monumonts that 
 we have heard so much about. 
 
 " You must be contented with rather a 
 short letter to-night, as I have i*> write 
 another, and am tired with such a day of 
 business and sight-seeing. I will *eA you 
 the whole story when I get home. 
 "Ever yor.r affectionate
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 " i rly hath life's mighty question 
 
 Dressed upon thy heart of youth, 
 W Ih a deep and strong heseeching, 
 What and where is truth?' " 
 
 ' HE is a strange fellow, that friend of 
 yours," said Miller, as the two classmate? 
 walked arm in arm down the street, on their 
 way to the theatre. " I like him vasilv : he 
 is the very soul of honor, and goodness, and 
 all that sort of thing, but just a little bit too 
 puritanical don't you think so ? " 
 
 " Well, yes perhaps," said Mason ; " either 
 he is too much so, or you and I too little ; I 
 hardly know which." 
 
 " Now, let me confess," said Miller, " that 
 I came out to-night from mere mulishness, 
 because I would not seem to be convinced 
 bj his arguments ; for really I lost all desire 
 -f going to the theatre while we were talk-
 
 104 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 ing. There is something in his quiet way 
 that brings back all my home feeling, and I 
 felt as if my mother were speaking to mo 
 through him." 
 
 " We are not in danger of too much home' 
 feeling or mother-influence, tossed about here 
 as we are, like chips on a mill-race," said 
 Mason, musingly. " After all, Miller, there's 
 no need of our going to the theatre, though 
 we have come into the street, and I don't 
 care to go to-night. Let us go into this 
 cafe and read the papers, and listen to tho 
 talk to improve our French. Lawrence will 
 have written his letter and be asleep by ten 
 o'clock ; so we can go back to our rooms in 
 good season, and he be none the wiser." 
 
 " I don't know, Mason, that I care about 
 dodging in that way. Lawrence may as 
 well have the credit of his victory. Besides 
 I really ought to spend the evening in writ- 
 ing letters, and nothing would have pre- 
 vented my doing so, but the mulishnflss 1 
 told you of."
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 105 
 
 " And of which, on my part, I ani heartily 
 ashamed," said Mason. "No, you're right, 
 Miller, there's no use sneaking home in that 
 way. Fred is the most generous fellow in 
 Jie world, and never seems conscious of any 
 advantage he has gained. But then, he is 
 so unalterably good ; it sometimes exasper- 
 ates me to think of it, in my unruly moods." 
 
 " What good domestic hours your Parisian 
 theatres keep," said Fred, looking up with a 
 quiet smile, from the letter he was just fold- 
 ing, as the two entered the room at nine 
 o'clock. " I shall be ready to acknowledge, 
 Charley, that they are vastly more innocent 
 than those at home." 
 
 " If they never do more harm than they 
 have done us this evening, I think so, too," 
 said Miller. " To tell the truth, I thought 
 it would sound strangely, if told in the home- 
 circle that Alf went to hear Rachel in pref- 
 erence to writing home." 
 
 " Well, I suppose Rachel will do as well 
 another time."
 
 106 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 "I am quite sure she will.'' 
 
 'Now, tell me frankly, Lawrence." said 
 Miller, as both were putting aside their writ- 
 ing implements, " if you do not find it bur- 
 densome to maintain the same strict rules of 
 conduct here, that you would at home. Let 
 me tell you how it is with me. I despise 
 that rowdyish cant that would ridicule the 
 being governed by maternal influence, and I 
 glory in declaring that I would not do any- 
 thing, even the least, to give my mother pain, 
 or incur her displeasure. When I am at 
 home, with all my movements known to her, 
 I feel in a great measure bound by her rule 
 of duty, though her judgment is on many 
 points more rigid than my own ; and there 
 it is no burden, because the desire of pleas- 
 ing her is stronger than any other. But 
 here, wandering around the world, unknown, 
 I feel as if I were responsible to no one, and 
 ain driven like a leaf before the wind, where- 
 ever my impulses take me." 
 
 "In one thing, I quite agree with you, n
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 107 
 
 replied Lawrence. " Regard for my mother's 
 wishes would keep me from doing anything 
 which she disapproved, even though my own 
 judgment did not condemn it. But I think 
 our principles of conduct should rest on 
 stronger grounds than the opinion of an- 
 other, even though that were almost sacred 
 to us. Our own settled convictions of right 
 are good for all latitudes, and will guide us 
 when all other considerations fail." 
 
 " But if one has no very settled convic- 
 t.'ons of right," said Miller. " You seem to 
 ha\e your opinions all completed, sealed, and 
 labelled, like a lawyer's briefs, ready to be 
 referred to in any case of emergency. Now, 
 for my part, I don't half know what I do 
 believe about many of these things." 
 
 " I have found it best," said Lawrence 
 "when a question comes up, to gain all 
 needed "nformation on the subject, and settle 
 it at OT cc. Then it never troubles me again, 
 unlev, there appears sufficient reason for 
 r Yjj*> deration and amendment."
 
 108 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 "And so you go on from one thing to 
 another, constructing your theory of ethics," 
 said Miller. " Really, Lawrence, you are 
 more of a philosopher than one often finds 
 under twenty -one. There is more logic re- 
 quired in ordering a life wisely than in 
 elaborating a system." 
 
 " Miller is rapidly becoming your devoted 
 admirer and humble disciple," said Mason. 
 " It is equal to Socrates and Plato." 
 
 '* On a small scale," said Miller. " But, 
 really, Lawrence, I should be thankful for 
 some of the data on which you have founded 
 your ideas of the theatre. The chief reason 
 why I have never been to it is, that the class 
 of persons who attend are often not such as 
 one would wish to mingle with. But it 
 seems to me that the sin is not in the thing 
 itself, but in its accidents." 
 
 "It makes very little difference in what 
 the sin consists," said Lawrence ; " so long 
 as the whole thing has been found to be 
 injurious. It may be a question for meta-
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 109 
 
 physicians whether the sin is essential or 
 accidental; but the only practical question 
 is, ' Does it do good, or, does it do evil ?' 
 If its results are evil, the thing itself is 
 unsafe and wrong." 
 
 " Well, then, is the influence of the theatre 
 always and necessarily bad?" said Miller. 
 " The people of Athens were, as a mass, 
 more intelligent than many nations of the 
 present day, and they owed most of it to 
 their drama." 
 
 " And the people of earlier Greece wero 
 thoroughly instructed in their national kis- 
 tory by minstrels who wandered about with 
 their harps ; but it would be a roundabout 
 way of instructing the masses nowadays, 
 to assemble them together to hear a blind 
 old man chant stories in doggerel rhymes, 
 I think the race has outgrown its nursery 
 rhymes and picture-books, and is to be in- 
 structed now by different means." 
 
 " But that only proves the unimportance of 
 tho theatre as a medium of instruction, which, 
 10
 
 110 FEED LAWRENCE. 
 
 in the present age, I am willing to admit. 1 
 do not see why as a form of amusement it 
 may not be harmless, and thus answer some 
 good purpose." 
 
 " You judge of this thing in the abstract, 
 Miller. You have n ot mingled in the actual 
 current of city life, and seen the many mo- 
 tives that go to support an institution which, 
 from a distance, may appear even beneficial. 
 I have been in the very midst of it, and I 
 tell you, that of thousands who frequent 
 the theatre in New York, not one in five 
 hundred goes for any higher inducement 
 than the excitement of gas-light and crowds, 
 while many, we know, are led by still lower 
 motives." 
 
 " Do you mean to say that none go from a 
 pure literary interest in the drama ?" 
 
 " A few go for that reason, undoubtedly, 
 but they are the exception and not the rule. 
 We overrate their number, because they are 
 those from whom we hear through the press, 
 by their comment? and criticisms, while of
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. Ill 
 
 flie great mass who crowd the theatres, we 
 know nothing individually." 
 
 " But after all," said Miller, " why must I 
 be responsible for other people's motives? 
 Am I to be debarred from instruction and 
 intellectual enjoyment, because a thousand 
 silly fools, who cannot taste that enjoyment, 
 seeking the same amusement from un- 
 worthy motives, are injured by it? This 
 does not seem to me like freedom. It is 
 being in bondage to other people's imhecili- 
 ty." 
 
 " It is a very small degree of instruction 
 or enjoyment you would lose ; and with all 
 the other means of improvement at }otir 
 command, you would hardly miss it. But 
 yet, Miller, if I thought that by my g^ing 
 once or twice, and that from the purest mo 
 tives, a feather's weight would be withdrawn 
 from the barriers that prevent others from 
 habitual attendance ; or, if a single on^ by 
 my example should be induced to enter upon 
 that course which, pursued, is sure to QD$ m
 
 112 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 dissipation and moral ruin, I would rather 
 wear fetter? and live in a dungeon all my 
 days, than use my freedom thus for the d 
 strucvioii of others,"
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 WITHIN the next week our three travellers 
 Cook their leave of the great capital by the 
 train for Lyons. Mason and Miller were 
 to make their tour through Italy, accom- 
 panying Lawrence as far as Leghorn, where 
 he would embark for home ; while they, 
 after a pedestrian ramble through Switzer- 
 land and southern France, were to return to 
 Paris, to complete their study of its won- 
 ders. 
 
 Nothing could exceed the interest and 
 amusement of the railroad journey. The 
 bracing air of a clear September morning, 
 the excitement of new scenes and manners 
 and language, the sense of rapid motion that 
 always arouses the spirits of youth and 
 enterprise, all lent their influence to excite 
 10*
 
 114 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 merriment, and make the hours of the jour- 
 ney pass rapidly away. 
 
 The three amused themselves with study- 
 ing the different faces, and comparing their 
 impressions as to the character and social 
 condition therein displayed. At a way-sta- 
 tion, near Paris, a woman with two young 
 children entered the car. With the genuine 
 politeness native to Frenchmen, half a dozen 
 seats were immediately placed at her dis- 
 posal, though all had been previously filled ; 
 of which she took one nearly opposite our 
 three friends, so as to fall unconsciously 
 under their perfectly good-natured, though 
 hardly civil observation. 
 
 More fastidious critics would hardly have 
 awarded to her the title of lady, for her dress, 
 though the model of neatness and simple 
 taste, bore evident marks of superannuation. 
 There was, however, an air of gentleness and 
 refinement about the wearer, which, together 
 with the pensive and almost sorrowful ex- 
 pression of her countenance, hushed all dis-
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 115 
 
 position to satirical remark, and our young 
 observers-general soon turned to more 
 amusing subjects of criticism. 
 
 As the train stopped in the depot at Lyons, 
 and the passengers were dispersing, with 
 much less bustle than an American ' station' 
 presents on similar occasions, their atten- 
 tion was again attracted to their neighbor 
 on the opposite side, who was trying in vain 
 to make herself understood by the conductor. 
 French evidently was not her native lan- 
 guage ; and an occasional word or accent 
 soon convinced Lawrence that she was Eng- 
 lish. 
 
 "You speak English, Madam," said he, 
 advancing respectfully toward where she 
 stood ; " could I be of any service to you as 
 an interpreter ?" 
 
 ' Thank you," said the stranger, with a 
 smile of relief at the sound of her native 
 language. " I am quite unaccustomed to the 
 use of the French. My husband was to meet 
 me here, but I fear he must have failed to
 
 116 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 receive my loiter. Perhaps the conductor 
 could find him if he is in the depot." 
 
 " Let me show you first to the Ladies' 
 Room," said Frederic. <: He will be more 
 likely to look for you there. If we do 
 not meet him, I will find a directory and as- 
 certain, if possible, his address, so that you 
 can send a message." 
 
 " I am really giving you too much trouble," 
 said the woman. 
 
 " Not the least it is only a pleasure," 
 replied Frederic, as he assumed the charge 
 of several carpet-bags and bundles, while 
 the stranger, carrying one child and leading 
 the other, followed on the way to the sitting- 
 room. 
 
 " Do let me assist you, Fred, in your new- 
 found responsibilities," whispered Mason, 
 seizing one of the satchels. 
 
 " Be careful she can understand you," 
 Lawrence replied, in French ; " but if you 
 wint to make yourself useful, you may go 
 and inquire if a Mr. John Ingham Smith has
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. Ill 
 
 been here looking for any one of the passen- 
 gers." 
 
 " I presume such an article might be found," 
 replied Mason, still in French. 
 
 " Oh, well, remember you are in a place 
 now, where even a John Smith may be a 
 rarity." 
 
 Woman, children, and baggage were soon 
 deposited in the sitting-room, and their 
 young conductor departed in search of the 
 missing husband. He soon after made his 
 appearance, having mistaken the time of ar- 
 rival by half an hour. Receiving many ac- 
 knowledgments for their small service, Law- 
 rence and his companions departed in quest 
 of lodgings for themselves. 
 
 " Acting Don Quixote yet, Fred," said Ma- 
 son ; " you really are a model of gallantry 
 worthy of study." 
 
 " I regard it as nothing more nor less than 
 a duty, Charley, to assist a woman who needs 
 such a service. Sh } was a perfect stranger 
 in a strange placo and bewildered by her
 
 118 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 ignorance of the language. You would b 
 ready to fight with any man, I know, -who 
 neglected to help your mother or sisters in 
 such an emergency ; and that, I believe, is 
 the standard for doing unto others." 
 
 " You are right, as usual, pattern of 
 perfection, and I am the impolitest fellow in 
 existence ; but really, trudging along under 
 your bundles, you looked so like those little 
 beasts of burden that earn a sixpence by 
 carrying a carpet-bag in New York, that it 
 struck upon any ludicrous vein, just as every- 
 thing does to-day."
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 FIYE days sufficed to complete the business 
 in Lyons, and our travellers were on their 
 way to Marseilles, where they took the 
 steamer for Leghorn. 
 
 " Who would have thought, a year ago," 
 said Mason, as they sat on the deck of the 
 little steamer, " that we three should be to 
 gether at this time on the Mediterranean ? 
 Things do turn up rather nicely sometimes, 
 after all." 
 
 "After all what?" said Lawrence. "I 
 think we do quite as well to take it for the 
 rule, and not the exception, that every thing 
 will ' turn up' about right. There are very 
 few things in the world worth having,, that 1 
 donH expect to enjoy if I live long enough." 
 
 " Nor I/' said Miller, " but it is because 1 
 take every thing as it comes, and squeeze the 
 
 (119)
 
 120 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 greatest possible amount of enjoyment out ol 
 every hour and every circumstance. There 
 is nothing so good that it seems beyond 
 my reach, and nothing so bad that it may 
 not have some grains of good in it. If I 
 were so fastidious as to pick up only the un- 
 mixed and unexceptionable nuggets of gold, 
 I should despair of ever completing my for- 
 tunes. As it is, I am a sort of Epicurean, 
 and lay every thing under contribution." 
 " As a card I picked up to-day expresses 
 
 'Taught to range, with poet-vision, 
 
 Earth, and air, and sky, 
 And, o'erswept by dreams elysian 
 Of ' 
 
 " Writing bad verses," interrupted Miller. 
 " It is unmerciful of you, Lawrence, to make 
 such a reductio ad absurdum of my poetical 
 ambition." 
 
 " The very last thing I thought of. No, 
 no, I say you have a right as a poet, and no 
 less as a man and a Christian, to enjoy all 
 the good that nature, or art, or society can
 
 FRED LAWRENCE 121 
 
 offer. But I suppose you are equally at lib- 
 erty to reject the poisons that may be found 
 in either. While evil remains in the world, 
 and we are as susceptible to its influences as 
 humanity is now, we can hardly save our- 
 selves the trouble of seeking the good and 
 avoiding the evil." 
 
 " Oh, well, but who wants to play the phi- 
 losopher so early in life?" said Mason, yawn- 
 ing. " You, Fred, were born with a profes- 
 sor's cap on ; so to you it conies naturally to 
 be ' always wise.' " 
 
 " No, I shall not assent to that," said Mil- 
 ler. " Lawrence is only as wise as the rest 
 of us ought to be ; and however far I fall be- 
 low his standard, I can see that he is right." 
 
 " Yes, right always, most unquestionably 
 right," replied Mason, " and I like it vastly 
 in him ; but what other mortal twenty years 
 old was ever so sagacious ? I intend to be 
 so some day, but it seems to me now the only 
 use in ever being young is, to have the free- 
 dom of the world for a little while. It 
 11
 
 1 22 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 wouldn't be becoming in my father to cut up 
 the capers I do now, and by the time I am 
 forty or forty-five I mean to settle down 
 upon my dignity and be a sober, respectable 
 citizen." 
 
 " As the world is now," said Lawrence, 
 " the freedom of it i& very much like a little 
 child having the freedom of a tropical forest, 
 for we are but children if we refuse to exer- 
 cise our faculty of discernment. One might 
 be free to pick up pebbles or lizards, to eat 
 berries or poisons, to play with pendent 
 vines or with rattle-snakes, but there would 
 be some difference in the results. However, 
 it is very fortunate, Charley, that the capers 
 you ' cut up' are rather in theory than prac- 
 tice. There is enough home-feeling about 
 you yet to prevent any great wandering for 
 the sake of ' seeing life.' Now, Miller, a 
 penny for your thoughts." 
 
 ''Perhaps they are to be worth more than 
 a penny in future," interposed Mason, mis- 
 chiev mslv. " Tl ii king; is one of the learned
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 123 
 
 professions, you know, so don't make too 
 large demands for its gratuitous exercise." 
 
 " Perfectly at your service," said Miller. 
 " I was contrasting the white outline of the 
 coast with this 'summer heaven's delicious 
 blue,' and then I thought how much more in- 
 spiration there is to joy and to fancy ip these 
 fresh and child-like influences of nature, than 
 in all the false excitements that men call 
 pleasure." 
 
 Many such discussions took place during 
 the journey, in perfect good humor on all 
 sides, affording exercise to thought, and in 
 some degree elevating the standard of prin- 
 ciple in all tile youthful casuists. Frederic 
 Lawrence, without the slightest assumption 
 of superior wisdom, was more settled in his 
 convictions of truth and duty than either of 
 his companions." 
 
 He had long since pondered the weight of 
 that command : " Let every man be fully per- 
 suaded in his own mind," and he perceived 
 that upon it rested the equity of the law that
 
 124 FEED LAWRENCE. 
 
 " every one shall give account of himself to 
 God." Without presumptuously setting aside 
 the opinions of others, he knew that no ono 
 could bear for him the responsibility of a 
 right guidance of his own conduct. 
 
 Seeking therefore all the light which rea- 
 son and revelation could furnish, he had en- 
 deavored honestly and carefully to solve 
 every practical question that presented itself 
 in the course of his life ; and the result was, 
 that though his decisions might not be infal- 
 lible in wisdom, he was yet enabled in their 
 strength to go on cheerfully with a clear and 
 quiet conscience. 
 
 If sincere, earnest, patient thought were 
 not so much an object of dread ; if the mind 
 would but seriously consider the truths of 
 its own existence, how much uneasiness 
 would be spared ; how many joys would be 
 brightened and divested of their sting ; how 
 peaceful and how happy might our life be- 
 come ! But nothing do we avoid so much as 
 simple reflect! m upon the facts of our own
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 125 
 
 being ; and so we wander on in darkness, 
 and complain of the many perplexities and 
 uncertainties of life, unmindful of the light 
 within that would dispel the darkness, and 
 render the path plain and easy before us. 
 
 a*
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 'HAVE you been to the post-office?" in 
 quired the two, in one breath, of Lawrence, 
 as he entered their room at the hotel, on the 
 evening of their arrival at Leghorn. 
 
 " Yes, but with no results to any one but 
 myself. I have two letters, and you none." 
 
 " The selfish wretch ! to absorb all the 
 news for his own private consumption. But 
 you will perhaps let us share in it, at least if 
 you have anything of a general character." 
 
 " One of my letters is from home, and the 
 other from Mr. Silver, which somewhat 
 alters my plan of operations. There it is. 
 It is short enough : read it." 
 
 Mason read as follows : 
 
 ".N. X., Aug. 15. 
 " MR. F. LAWRENCE : 
 
 " Since y'r leaving N. T. 
 news has been rec'd of the failure of A , 
 
 (1X6)
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 127 
 
 B & Co., cotton manufacturers, in 
 
 Manchester, Eng'd, who were indebted to us 
 in the sum of $4,500. I desire that you will 
 proceed thither, after finishing your business 
 in Leghorn, if possible in time for the meet- 
 ing of creditors. Should the settlement be 
 delayed, you can leave the business in the 
 hands of some attorney in that city. 
 " Yours, 
 
 " J. R. SILVER." 
 
 " What, you don't mean to say you are 
 going to England?" said Mason, as he 
 finished the letter. 
 
 " That looks like it, don't it? Did not I 
 tell you, Charley, that everything turns out 
 ]ust right in the end ? I was quite discon- 
 tented not to stop in England, as I came ; 
 and now it seems I shall see the mother 
 country, after all." 
 
 " You are a fortunate fellow, Fred. I 
 have the most unbounded faith in your good 
 luck T shculd like to go with you. V *
 
 128 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 promised to keep you company until yon 
 Bailed for home." 
 
 " I should like it grandly, of course ; but 
 it would be absurd for you to be flying over 
 the country by steam, as we business men are 
 obliged to do." 
 
 " ' We business men !' how dignified ! I 
 declare, Fred, you will look comical, rep- 
 resenting the firm in a meeting of credi- 
 tors." 
 
 " I imagine I shall feel comically, too. I 
 shall have to borrow a grey wig and a gold- 
 headed cane." 
 
 " And stoop a little, and affect the gout," 
 said Miller. " I would recommend the study 
 of Shylock, in order to prepare yourself for 
 the mission. Perhaps you might even see it 
 played at some theatre in London." 
 
 " I shall hardly have time," replied Law- 
 rence, " to study my part so thoroughly. If 
 Mr. Silver wished to be perfectly represented 
 he should have come himself. One thing ia 
 certain, I must expedite matters here, so a*
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 to lose as little time as possible in getting 
 home." 
 
 "No doubt your worthy employer there 
 regrets very much that you could not have 
 gone to England on your outward voyage, 
 so as to lessen the expenses of the journey to 
 him." 
 
 " Well, that is right enough. I regret it, 
 too, as far as his interests are concerned, and 
 for that reason I want to accomplish all 
 these affairs as quickly as possible." 
 
 " Don't kill yourself, though, Fred ; I 
 rather think Mr. S. can afford you time 
 enough to transact his own business." 
 
 " Well, the case is just here, Charley. On 
 this trip my time is not exactly my own, and 
 I should not, of course, take a longer route, 
 or spend an hour on my own gratification 
 that should be employed in business. When 
 I make the tour of Europe for the mere 
 pleasure of it, it shall be at my own expense, 
 and I will not owe a penny to any man. 
 But since my travels are now thus neces-
 
 130 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 sarily extended, I will be thankful to Provi- 
 dence, and not to Mr. Silver, and make the 
 most of the odd minutes to see and learn 
 what I can." 
 
 The affairs in Leghorn were expedited aa 
 much as possible, and in lluvo days Lawrence 
 was ready for his northward journey. The 
 only regret was in leaving the two friends 
 whose pleasant companionship had increased 
 tenfold the interest of his travels thus far.^ 
 In a day or two he had traversed France 
 from south to north, and, crossing the narrow 
 channel, stood for the first time on English 
 soil. It was almost like a return home, to 
 hear once more his native language, and to 
 be in the midst of places so intimately 
 associated with the history of our fore- 
 fathers. 
 
 With regret he hastened from London, 
 leaving behind him its treasures of instruc- 
 tion, among which months r light easily be 
 spent without exhausting them. As he 
 passed, with the speed of steam, through the
 
 FRED LAWRENCE, 131 
 
 richly cultivated country that surrounds the 
 great metropolis, objects that it had been hi a 
 life-long wish to visit, seemed to vanish from 
 his sight like the visions of a dream. 
 
 One week our traveller was detained in 
 Manchester a busy, bustling city, but with 
 much less to awaken a stranger's interest 
 than most of its sister cities Of the same 
 
 kingdom. The affairs with A , B & 
 
 Co. were at length brought to a satisfactory 
 conclusion, and the first Saturday in October 
 found our traveller in Liverpool, with pas- 
 sage engaged in one of those grai d ocean 
 steamers that form the pride of our country 
 and of the age.
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Oh I 'tis hame, 'tis batuc, 'tis bame wad I be I" 
 
 IP the enthusiasm that attends the com 
 menceraent of a voyage had partly died 
 away in the fatigues of a long journey, it 
 was not with the less happiness that Frederic 
 found himself once more upon the deck of 
 the steamer, with the broad expanse of sky 
 and water spread out before him. Distance 
 has some of the attributes of time, and the 
 six weeks spent, tho-usands of miles from 
 home, surrounded by language and social 
 customs entirely foreign, seemed longer than 
 many a year of unvaried routine. 
 
 Home and its inmates seemed like a beauti- 
 ful dream, to which distance lent even more 
 than its natural enchantment. 
 
 Ten or twelve days seemed an endless 
 time to intervene before he could see them 
 
 (132)
 
 FRED LAWREMCE. 133 
 
 again. It was tlie time for home-sickness. 
 The excitement of the trip was past, with its 
 opportunities for improvement ; the novelty 
 of a voyage was exhausted ; his mind stretch- 
 ed eagerly forward to the reunion with the 
 loved ones at home. 
 
 There was little left to examine about the 
 steamer, and the attention of our traveller 
 was occupied chiefly with his fellow-passen- 
 gers. 
 
 The company on board the steamer Agoph 
 consisted chiefly of American families re- 
 turning from a summer's tour in Europe 
 Many had evidently gone for fashion's sake, 
 or for relief from the insupportable ennui of 
 a life devoted wholly to amusement. 
 
 There were ladies who had been studiously 
 acquiring a Parisian air and accent, which, 
 together with a cargo of laces and embroider- 
 ies, were to constitute their irresistible attrac- 
 tions for the ensuing season. There were 
 gentlemen who, in importing a genuine French 
 valet, with an unlimited quantity of Lubin'a 
 12
 
 134 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 various manufactures, were adding the finish- 
 ing touch to the climax of their social perfec- 
 tions. There were matrons of the fashiona- 
 ble world, who had submitted to a European 
 voyage as a duty to themselves and to their 
 daughters, and blessed their stars for every 
 night that terminated one day of the self- 
 inflicted penance. There were persecuted 
 papas, with the visage of despair, as they 
 thought of enormous bills already presented, 
 who rued the day when their consent had 
 been obtained to such a round of foolish ex- 
 travagance. 
 
 It was rather amusing to watch the group- 
 ings of these characters as they met in the 
 familiar intercourse of sea-life. The gentle- 
 men could use up the day quite tolerably 
 with cigars on deck, or billiards in the cabin, 
 but the ladies the fashionable ones, we 
 mean avoided the open air as if it were in- 
 fectious. If the ocean was grand, as people 
 said, were their beautiful faces to be made 
 burnt sacrifices to it ?
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 135 
 
 In the midst of the little museum on board, 
 our student of the world-college, unnoticed 
 and unobtrusive, was amusing himself with 
 illustrated studies of human nature. There 
 is no machine more interesting in its compli- 
 cated workings than the human mind, and 
 he who has learned to study it intelligently 
 will never want for entertainment, even in 
 the dullest circumstances where two or three 
 are gathered together. 
 
 The passengers of the steamer were not all 
 included in the classes we have named. There 
 were some who were returning from the 
 Old World, enriched by the enjoyment of its 
 treasures of art, without having lost a 
 love for their own country, or the honest 
 simplicity of republican manners. They 
 wished, if it were possible, to transplant to 
 American soil all that the Old World has of 
 beauty and refinement, without absurdly 
 aping the details of foreign customs. 
 
 Among these were an old gentleman and 
 his daughter, who were returning to their
 
 136 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 home in New York after a year's residence 
 in Europe. From meeting him every day 
 upon deck in his morning walks, Frederic 
 gradually formed rather more than a passing 
 acquaintance with this gentleman ; and such 
 was the winning affability of his manner, 
 that from a simple ' good-morning' in answer 
 to his daily salutation, Fred soon found him- 
 self entering into long conversations, and 
 talking not only upon general subjects, but 
 of himself and his affairs, as to a familiar 
 friend. There was nothing of cold curiosi- 
 ty in Mr. Russel's manner of drawing him 
 out upon these subjects, nor yet of indiffer- 
 ence, as if he formed the acquaintance mere- 
 ly to pass away the time ; a cordial interest 
 in the welfare of others shone in every look, 
 and spoke in every word. 
 
 Mr. Russel was a merchant from New 
 York. After accumulating a princely for- 
 tune, he had withdrawn from active employ- 
 ment, devoting his old age to the promotion 
 of the happiness an I improvement of his only
 
 PRED LAWRENCE. 137 
 
 daughter whom the death of her mother had 
 left entirely to his care and attention. After 
 the completion of her course of study in a 
 seminary at home, they had travelled to- 
 gether over the most interesting portions of 
 our own country. All that nature can be- 
 stow upon a pure and aspiring mind, enlarg 
 ing its scope and elevating its aims, she had 
 sought among the vast lakes and the mighty 
 rivers, the mountains and the valleys of her 
 own land. A year in Europe had now been 
 devoted to the study of those arts and ac- 
 complishments which add happiness and re- 
 finement to the home circle. 
 
 Display was the last thing contemplated 
 in Emily Russel's education. Her father, 
 dreading lest his child should be corrupted 
 by the social influences among which his 
 wealth would naturally have placed her, 
 chose to live aloof from the gay world, at 
 least until her character should be strength- 
 ened, that she might be proof against its fas- 
 cinations. The result was, that Emily Bus 
 12*
 
 138 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 scl added to the charm of a vigorous and 
 well cultivated mind all the grace and ele- 
 gance of deportment which true refinement 
 can bestow, without that artificial polish 
 which only renders more visible the shallow- 
 ness of a mind whose highest life is in so- 
 ciety. 
 
 Our Frederic could not have been con- 
 sidered a very susceptible youth. His mind 
 had been for years too much occupied in 
 solid acquisitions to wander off in quest of 
 romance, and the names of mother and sister 
 were the only ones that had ever maintained 
 a special place in his regard. Nevertheless 
 he must not be too severely judged, if, in the 
 long unoccupied days of the homeward voy- 
 age, strange day-dreams began to sweep 
 over his thoughts like clouds over a June 
 f meadow. The more accustomed a mind has 
 been to intense activity, the more wild and 
 romantic are its musings when shut up from 
 the possibility of action. An ocean voyage 
 Is a curious interregnum in a busy life. Cut
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 139 
 
 off from one's usual scene of activity, with 
 long days to be passed away before another 
 field for exertion can open, the thoughts and 
 fancies enjoy a vacation, and are sure to 
 revenge themselves by sport and frolic, for 
 the usual restraint. 
 
 And so, as he studied the motives which 
 actuated the little world in which he wag 
 placed, and learned to distinguish the true 
 excellence and refinement from the false, 
 Fred came quite unconsciously to the con- 
 clusion that there was not, either in that 
 little world or in the larger one, another 
 being so altogether perfect as Emily Russel, 
 or another to whom he would so willingly 
 devote the service of a life. To be sure, that 
 sober judgment which had always been the 
 ruling principle of his life, pronounced these 
 fancies completely absurd ; and Frederic, 
 like a sensible youth as ho was. coincided 
 with his judgment ; but the fancies had their 
 own way, after all. 
 
 " If she -vere only poor," he said to him-
 
 140 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 self " but it shall never be said that Fred' 
 eric Lawrence became rich by a fortunate 
 match. No, no ! I will make my own for- 
 tune, I am equal to that. 1 hope, and then 
 Pshaw ! this lazy voyage life has made a fool 
 of me. Soon I shall have something to do 
 and think of, and then I shall be free from 
 these idle fancies." 
 
 Would those long dull days never come 
 to and end? It seemed as if between him 
 and his home there was a great gulf fixed. 
 Perhaps it was only distance, Avhich can be 
 indefinitely compressed but never wholly 
 annihilated by human power.
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 " Jraii an thou, man 1 as a buoble on a breaker, 
 Weak, and governed by externals, like a poor bird caught tan 
 a atorm." 
 
 THE passage had been somewhat impeded 
 by unfavorable winds, so that it was not 
 until the tenth day that the steamer ap- 
 proached the banks of Newfoundland, and 
 plunged into the region of mists and fogs 
 that hang over them. Even this least agree- 
 able part of the journey was hailed by the 
 weary passengers as one stage nearer home. 
 Yet, as the fog became denser through the 
 night, so that with the morning light an un- 
 practised eye could not distinguish an object 
 nt'half the ship's length, a spirit of gloom 
 and despondency seemed to settle over the 
 whole company. The captain was evidently 
 keeping a sharp look-out ; and some lines of 
 anxiety were visible on his usually unread- 
 
 (Hi)
 
 142 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 able countenance. The sailors went about 
 their duties without word or audible sound ; 
 and from the upper deck they looked like 
 phantoms springing from the mist and vanish- 
 ing into it again. 
 
 It was seven o'clock when Frederic came 
 on deck, though the obscurity made it appear 
 at least an hour earlier. It was a damp 
 autumnal morning, and the raw sea air sent 
 a chill along the veins not more conducive 
 to cheerfulness than comfort. 
 
 Still onward the good ship plunged through 
 the darkness, checking not one pulsation of 
 her mighty heart, beating the dark waters 
 with the firm, regular strokes of her iron 
 arm, the grandest expression of man's power 
 and pride amid the mighty works of Nature 
 The heavy tone of the bell mingled with 1h 
 sound of the machinery and the voice of many 
 waters ; but that which was meant for warn- 
 ing and protection seemed to many like the 
 knell of impending destruction. 
 
 Frederic was not subject to fear ; he
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 143 
 
 rather enjoyed a sense of danger as adding 
 variety to the feeling of life and strength. 
 Nevertheless, his nature was not so shallow 
 as to view with trifling or thoughtlessness 
 the contingencies of an hour like this. As 
 he stood upon the deck and gazed upon the 
 grey curtain of twilight which closed over 
 the narrow view, though he felt no trembling, 
 there was a deep sense of the littleness of 
 human power, and the Almightiness of Him 
 who holdetli the waters in the hollow of His 
 hand. 
 
 At eight o'clock the passengers were 
 assembled as usual, at breakfast. The cap- 
 tain spoke cheerfully of their prospects. The 
 fog was indeed much denser than usual, but 
 there was no certainty of danger. They were 
 far enough from the coast, and the steamer 
 could push on through the calm waters as 
 safely in darkness as in light. A few hours 
 at the usual rate would place them beyond 
 the misty curtain, and beneath a clear sky, 
 he hoped. They niiglU reach Halifax that
 
 144 FRED LA WHENCE. 
 
 very afternoon, and then two or three days 
 would bring them to New York. 
 
 After the morning meal, many of the pas- 
 sengers went on deck for air and exercise, 
 and Frederic returned to his post of obser- 
 yation. The fog seemed, if possible, denser 
 than before. Sea and sky were covered with 
 an impenetrable curtain of mist, which ren 
 dered the sun completely invisible, only his 
 dim diffused rays shedding a little light 
 through the obscurity. The company of 
 promenaders on deck seemed to feel the 
 natural influence of the scene. The gay con- 
 versation which had been commenced on 
 deck, as if by an effort, gradually assumed a 
 more subdued tone, and died away into 
 silence. 
 
 Suddenly a deafening crash, and a violent 
 shock made the mighty ship tremble in every 
 timber. A moment of awful silence fol- 
 lowed, in which some looked into each other's 
 faces with pale dismay, or clung instinctively 
 to the nearest support. A dark apparition
 
 FRED LAWEENCE. 145 
 
 like a phantom ship was visible a moment at 
 the bows, and then disappeared into the 
 darkness. Then there was the faint sound 
 of a human voice attempting to hail from 
 the stranger vessel, but the rushing waters 
 prevented words from being distinguished, 
 and the two ships were borne quickly apart 
 by the action of the waves. 
 
 Then came the buzz of inquiry ; and con- 
 fusion took the place of the momentary still- 
 ness. There was hurrying to and fro, call- 
 ing for life-boats, life-preservers, etc., every 
 sound adding terror to the scene without 
 procuring relief. The hysterical cries of 
 many who lost all self-control communicated 
 the panic to others ; and those who viewed 
 the scene more calmly, were hardly to be 
 censured if they wished that the hour of 
 decision might hasten. 
 
 The captain sought to still the confusion 
 by his voice of authority, and for a moment 
 gained the attention of the excited multi- 
 tude ; as, mounted upon the wheel-house, ha 
 13
 
 146 FEED LAWRENCE. 
 
 exclaimed with his utmost strength of voice, 
 " There is no need of alarm. We have run 
 into a schooner and sustained a slight injury 
 in the bows. We are within three hours of 
 Halifax. We can undoubtedly reach that 
 port in safety." 
 
 The tumult was hushed for a moment, but 
 fears were not so easily dispelled. The ship 
 had begun to settle down toward the bows, 
 and the deck slanted at a fearful iuclina-* 
 tion. It was a group with pale faces and 
 trembling voices that assembled in the cabin. 
 Wives sought their husbands, children clung 
 closely to their parents, and some, who had 
 no earthly refuge, put their trust in a better 
 friend, the Almighty Father. 
 
 Frederic Lawrence still retained his posi- 
 tion on the upper deck. There was none in 
 all that little busy world that sought his aid, 
 or cared for his safety, or even remembered > 
 his existence. He did not believe the words 
 of the captain ; it was too evident that the 
 ship would not sustain them above the waves
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 147 
 
 another hour ; but he stood calmly awaiting 
 the moment when he must cast himself into 
 the rolling waters. He thought of mother, 
 and of home ; and with those thoughts came 
 more forcibly than ever to his mind the 
 words she had taught him there in earliest 
 childhood : " What time I am afraid, I will 
 trust in Thee." " For Thou only makest me 
 to dwell in safety." A calm and cheerful 
 trust filled the place that fear had de- 
 manded. 
 
 He looked about to see if any one needed 
 his assistance. Emily Russel was standing 
 with her father at a little distance, leaning 
 against the railing. She was wrapped 
 closely in a large shawl ; her face was pale, 
 but her eyes had an expression of hope and 
 confidence that was almost sublime. At this 
 moment her father, who had been earnestly 
 examining the lower deck, exclaimed : 
 
 "There is a life-boat that ought to be 
 launched. No one seems to have noticed it. 
 I must leave you one instant, my darling, to
 
 148 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 Bpeak to the captain, and demand a place 
 for us." 
 
 " Alono. father ?" said Emily, with quiver- 
 ing lips. 
 
 " I will not be out of sight one second 5 
 you can watch me. Mr. Lawrence," said he, 
 catching sight of Frederic, " may I ask you 
 to stand here one moment, while I am 
 gone ?" 
 
 " Certainly, sir," said Frederic, springing 
 with alacrity to his post of duty. 
 
 It was no time for words ; and even had 
 there been less danger to absorb their 
 thoughts, neither was so in bondage to the 
 laws of etiquette as to consider it necessary 
 to maintain conversation in all times and 
 places. Emily stood watching her father, 
 her eyes devouring every movement, as he 
 forced his way through the crowd on the 
 lower deck, and reached the place where the 
 captain stood. Frederic was gazing at the 
 ship, which now began to roll with a more 
 uneasy motion, as if some new advantage
 
 FI;ED LAWRENCE. 149 
 
 had beeii gained by the element of destruc- 
 tion. 
 
 Suddenly there was a violent plunge, and 
 a hollow, gurgling sound, as the water filled 
 the hold, and the ship sunk with her lower 
 deck beneath the waves. 
 
 " Father ! father !" Emily shrieked, but 
 there was no voice to answer. One by one, 
 movable articles floated up from the buried 
 deck, and among them the quick eye of 
 Frederic discerned, or he thought he did, 
 human heads striving to hold their way 
 above the force of the current. But there 
 was not a moment for waiting or observa- 
 tion. 
 
 " Let me fasten your shawl more closely," 
 paid he quickly " it will serve as a life-pre- 
 gerver." 
 
 Emily submitted without a word ; her eyea 
 were wandering anxiously over the place 
 where the deck had disappeared all con 
 sciousness of herself was merged in the 
 thought of her father. While Frederic was 
 1H*
 
 150 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 looking about for the best place from which 
 to plunge into the waves, the necessity of a 
 choice was saved them : for, with another 
 convulsive movement, the upper <?eck. their 
 resting-place, sank- beneath the surface of 
 the water. 
 
 There was a momentary shock, the sense 
 of suffocation, as the cold waves closed over 
 them ; then, almost immediately, they floated 
 to the surface. Frederic was an expert 
 swimmer ; but it required one strong arm to 
 support his almost fainting charge, while 
 with the other he directed their course out 
 from the currents and eddies around the 
 sinking ship. There was little use in swim- 
 ming, even had it been possible. The port 
 was at least ten miles distant, and the only 
 human hope was from the little fishing ves 
 els which frequent the waters in its vicinity. 
 All that could be done was to float upon the 
 surface until rescue could arrive. Frederic 
 was sensible only of strong will and desper 
 ate exertion a clinging to strength and con
 
 FEED LAWEENCE. 151 
 
 gciousness when it seemed as if both were 
 deserting him ; and weeks and months 
 seemed to have passed away while astro- 
 nomic measurements would have numbered 
 but a few hours. Then, at last, there was 
 the impression of being lifted up by human 
 hands, and laid to rest ; and, with the neces- 
 sity, the power of exertion vanished : he was 
 in a state of un consciousness^
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 GRADUALLY Frederic returned to life and 
 consciousness. Hours must have passed, for 
 it was night. He was alone in a small but 
 neat and comfortable apartment, which re- 
 minded him of the room he had occupied in 
 the hotel at Manchester. Little by little 
 the impression dawned upon him that he was 
 on land, for the motion of the ship was 
 gone ; the only sensation was that of perfect 
 rest. 
 
 Yet it was long before curiosity was ex- 
 cited as to his present condition ; the mere 
 sense of being, of the newness of life, was 
 enough to satisfy every want. Life, that 
 had, a few hours ago, been suddenly with- 
 drawn, seemed just dawning upon him anew, 
 as if he were indeed a little child. The feel- 
 ing of strength and self-reliance that had
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 153 
 
 been dominant in his mind, had given way 
 to a humble and childlike trust : and, as the 
 thought of renewed activity returned, it was 
 mingled with the resemblance of a divino 
 power that must supply the energy with 
 which to act. 
 
 The varied scenes and events of his life 
 passed in review like a panorama, while 
 half recovered from the exhaustion he lay in 
 4 dreamy state between sleeping and waking. 
 Memory only was awake, while all conscious- 
 ness or interest in the present lay dormant. 
 Realities were like dreams, and dreams as 
 solid as realities ; but in either he seemed to 
 have no personal interest except as a specta- 
 tor. At last, a vision, long forgotten, rose in 
 distinct remembrance. It was his boyhood's 
 dream, in which he had been a knight errant, 
 and rescued a beautiful princess from a de- 
 vouring moustor. In groping through the 
 past he seemed to have touched a spring that 
 answered in the present. The incident of 
 the last twelve hours began to float before
 
 154 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 him like phantoms in the misty ligh t of men* 
 ory. And then a fancied similarity between 
 the two flashed upon his mind so strangely, 
 that he awoke with a smile into a more vivid 
 consciousness. 
 
 " Where was he ? how came he there ? 
 Had Emily survived the perils of that hor- 
 rible morning ? Had her father ever risen 
 from that ill-fated deck ? Were the other 
 passengers safe ? how selfishly he had been 
 rejoicing in the consciousness of safety, re- 
 gardless of the fate of others !" 
 
 With an impulse almost of shame, Frederic 
 started up, and violently pulled the bell-rope 
 that hung within reach of his hand. A 
 waiter appeared. 
 
 " Tell me what place this is," exclaimed 
 Frederic, hastily. 
 
 "It is the Royal 'otel in 'alifax," replied 
 the waiter, with a grin. 
 
 " How long have I been here, and how did 
 I come ?" 
 
 " You was brc ught into the 'arbor, I 'eard,
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 155 
 
 by a fishing smack, from the wreck of the 
 Hagoph. An old gentleman brought you 
 'ere in a carriage this noon, with a young 
 lady that was saved by the same boat." 
 
 " They are safe, then, the old gentleman 
 and his daughter ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir, the gentleman had you Dut in 
 this room his own is close by and came 
 and staid by you till you came out of the 
 faint and went to sleep. I thought he was 
 your father, sir," continued the waiter, confi- 
 dentially. 
 
 " No," said Frederic. " How many of the 
 passengers escaped ?" 
 
 " There was near fifty brought here," said 
 the waiter, glad to find another listener to 
 his more than twice-told tale of gossip. 
 " Most all of them came to, after a while, 
 but I believe there was one or two drown- 
 ed." 
 
 " That is all I want, I believe," said Fred- 
 eric ; " you may bring me a cup of tea ; 1 
 nhall not leave my room to-night."
 
 156 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 The waiter soon returned, bringing a card 
 1 with Mr. Russel's compliments, and would 
 like to see Mr. Lawrence when it was con- 
 venient.' 
 
 " Give my respects to Mr. Russel," said 
 Frederic, " and say that I will wait upon 
 him to-morrow morning." 
 
 It was a clear October morning when 
 Frederic awoke, refreshed by the quiet re- 
 pose of the night. The dreamy fancies of 
 the previous evening had vanished, and he 
 began to look at his circumstances in a more 
 business-like manner. Some means must be 
 found for completing his journey ; by this 
 time he had hoped to be at home. 
 
 Then he recollected Mr. Russel's message ; 
 and, improving his toilette as much as the 
 scanty resources at hand would permit, he 
 went forth to ascertain the time. It wa? 
 already nine, and after a hasty breakfast he 
 presented himself at the door of that gentle 
 man's private parlor. 
 
 Emily was seated in an arm-chair, looking
 
 KED LAWRENCE. 157 
 
 pale and exhausted ; but her face lighted up 
 with a happy smile as he entered. Mr. 
 Russel met him at the door, and shook both 
 hands several minutes before he could utter 
 a word. 
 
 " You have saved my only treasure," said 
 he at last, in a broken voice ; " an old man's 
 gratitude is yours." 
 
 " I only did my duty, sir," said Fred- 
 eric. 
 
 " But you did it nobly, young man ; I must 
 know more of you in future ; I will not 
 depreciate your generous action by offering 
 service or influence or anything else as a 
 return for it ; but you must allow me at 
 least the privilege of a friend. Spend your 
 time with us, at least when it is agreeable to 
 you, and we will contrive to pass the hours 
 away pleasantly untf we can start again for 
 home." 
 
 " How long shall we probably be detained, 
 father ?" asked Emily. 
 
 " Not more than three or four days ; for 
 14
 
 158 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 the steamer of the other line is expected on 
 Saturday." 
 
 " It seems a long time to wait," said Emily, 
 with a sigh. 
 
 " I think we should make ourselves con- 
 tented, my dear, since we carry all of home 
 with us but the place. There is no one, you 
 know, to expect our arrival, or be anxious 
 at the delay. With Mr. Lawrence I believe 
 the case is different." 
 
 " My only uneasiness," said Frederic, " is, 
 lest my mother and sister may hear of the 
 wreck, and be in great suspense as to my 
 fate." 
 
 " We must telegraph immediately to re- 
 lieve their anxiety. I am going out soon 
 for a little walk, and will see to it." 
 
 " Is it not giving you too much trouble, 
 sir ? I was going ',0 the telegraph office 
 this morning." 
 
 " No, no ! I shall prescribe perfect rest for 
 you to-day. I have not so much need of it, 
 you know. So, if you young people will
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 159 
 
 amuse yourselves awhile, I will go now, that 
 no time may be lost." 
 
 Mr. Eussel soon returned to say that the 
 wires were undergoing repairs, and that no 
 messages could be sent. 
 
 " There is one comfort," said he. If no 
 dispatches are sent, of course they can 
 receive no news that will awaken anxiety. 
 I took care to put our names in full on the 
 list of the saved, so the first account of the, 
 danger will tell also of the escape."
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 Oh I when the hour to meet .again 
 
 Creeps on, and, speeding o'er the sea, 
 My heart takes up its lengthened chain, 
 
 And, link by link, draws nearer thee, 
 When port is gained, and slowly now 
 
 The old familiar paths are passed, 
 And entering, unconscious how, 
 
 I gaze upon thy face at last, 
 And feel thy tears upon my cheek, 
 
 Then, mother ! 'twill be like a dream 
 That wo were parted." 
 
 WILLIS. 
 
 THREE days passed as agreeably as would 
 be possible to travellers longing for home, 
 and thus suddenly cut off from the approach 
 to it. Mr. Russel sought every means of 
 amusement to occupy the time, and banish 
 home-sickness. When strength was suffi- 
 ciently restored, they took long rides in the 
 environs of the city, not specially interesting 
 or beautiful as compared with many other 
 cities, but furnishing a pleasant relief from 
 
 (160)
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 16l 
 
 the ennui of ship-life, and the monotony of 
 the hotel. 
 
 Nevertheless, all were rejoiced when, at 
 the end of the week, a steamer of the other 
 line arrived, on the way to New York, and 
 the passengers of the lost ship were trans- 
 ferred to her. Frederic knew what torturing 
 anxiety must be felt at home, if the intelli- 
 gence of the wreck had arrived, and the 
 utmost speed of steam could not satisfy his 
 impatience to relieve their suspense. 
 
 It was late in the evening when the 
 steamer reached the dock in New York. 
 (Jnincumbered by baggage, our traveller 
 rapidly traversed the distance that still 
 separated him from home. It was but two 
 months since he had trod the same streets, 
 after bidding farewell to mother and sister : 
 yet how strange every old familiar object 
 now seemed ! It was as if he had been on a 
 pilgrimage of years, and he felt as if great 
 changes must have taken place. 
 
 A few minutes brought him to the -well 
 14*
 
 1(52 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 known door. Addie answered his summons, 
 and fell into his arms, with a cry of joy. 
 She, poor child, had heard of the disaster, 
 and had borne the whole weight of solici- 
 tude alone, rather than communicate it to 
 her mother. The news of the .wreck had 
 arrived by a small vessel which left Halifax- 
 on the morning of the disaster, but there 
 was no report of the names or number of the 
 saved. Mrs. Lawrence seldom read the* 
 papers, depending upon her daughter for an 
 account of the news of the day ; and having 
 seen no one else recently, had heard not the 
 slightest rumor of the wreck. Addie had 
 eagerly searched every paper for the least 
 mention of the missing Agoph ; but had been 
 careful to conceal or destroy all that con- 
 tained any allusion to its wreck. 
 
 It was only when her son was restored to 
 her, in health and safety, that Mrs. Lawrence 
 learned of the perils he had encountered. 
 It was too late then for anxiet} r , but still it 
 was with a trembling joy that she listened to
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 163 
 
 the story of his adventures. Poor Addie, 
 losing all the calmness she had so bravely 
 assumed during 1 those days of suspense, could 
 only cling sobbing to her brother, fearing 
 lest the happy dream might vanish. Every 
 incident of peril and escape was lived over 
 again by the eager listeners : and earnest 
 thanksgivings arose that night from the 
 happy little household. 
 
 A few days later, during Frederic's absence 
 at business, his mother received a call from 
 Mr. Russel. His heart was still overflow- 
 ing with gratitude for the preservation of 
 his child ; and no words seemed enough to 
 express his admiration of the courage and 
 presence of mind displayed in the rescue. 
 
 " You have reason, madam, to be proud of 
 uch a son. Never have I found, in one of 
 his age, so exalted a sense of honor, with 
 such unaffected modesty. He really did not 
 seem to be conscious that his noble deed was 
 in any way remarkable, or worthy of praise , 
 while I am sure that very few young per-
 
 164 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 eons, alone, in circumstances of sucn fearful 
 danger, would have thought of anything 
 more than their own escape. I had left my 
 daughter for one moment to speak to the 
 captain, upon the lower deck, at the very 
 instant when the ship sunk. As it went 
 down I received a blow upon the head from 
 some movable article, which rendered me 
 insensible for several minutes ; while my 
 poor child, orphaned for the time being, 
 would have been left to the mercy of the 
 waves, but for your son's generous efforts. 
 
 " I had fallen by chance, it seemed, or 
 rather, providentially upon the life-boat, 
 which had at that moment been lowered on 
 to the deck. When I recovered from the 
 temporary lapse, no trace could be found of 
 my child, though we searched the spot where 
 the wreck had disappeared. We were soon 
 perceived, however, by a little fishing vessel, 
 which was on the search for persons from 
 the lost ship ; and on going on board I bad 
 the joy of finding my lost treasure uninjure4,
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 165 
 
 while her brave deliverer, his strength com- 
 pletely exhausted, had fallen apparently life- 
 less. Thank God, that rest, and the buoy- 
 ancy of a youthful constitution, have restored 
 him to us and to you again ! Excuse it, if I 
 have wearied you with this narration, the 
 main incidents of which you already know ; 
 but I feared your son's humility would not 
 permit him to do himself justice." 
 
 " It is never wearisome, I believe, to a 
 mother, to hear of her son's right actions," 
 said Mrs. Lawrence, with a smile of maternal 
 pride. " But what you have mentioned, sir, 
 as an act of heroism, was still, I think, 
 nothing more than the performance of a 
 duty ; and I should, indeed, be disappointed 
 if my son were found wanting to the claims 
 of duty in such an emergency." 
 
 " Few, persons, madam, have so elevated a 
 standard of duty. Among strangers, espe- 
 cially in travelling, selfishness seems to be 
 the rule, and benevolence the exception. 
 Disinterestedness, if it exists, seldom extends
 
 166 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 beyond the merest trifles. I wish more of 
 our young people could be educated as your 
 son has been, to this noble spirit of self- 
 sacrifice. But you will allow me, I trust, in 
 some inquiries as to the manner of his edu- 
 cation. If I trespass beyond the privilege 
 of an almost stranger, it is not from imper- 
 tinent curiosity. Our common peril, and 
 my debt of gratitude, have drawn us very 
 near together ; and as I watched over his 
 bedside, awaiting anxiously the first sign of 
 life, you will not wonder that my feeling 
 was rather that of a father for a son, than 
 stranger for stranger. But I was speaking 
 of education. I have derived a singular 
 pleasure from the acquaintance I formed 
 with him during the few days of our resi- 
 dence 'together ; and I have been scarcely 
 less surprised at the extent of his acquire- 
 ments than at his courage and generosity. 
 Yet he informs me that he has never been at 
 college." 
 " He has not, though it was a cherished
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 167 
 
 plan during his childhood, that he should 
 receive a liberal education. It was quite a 
 disappointment to him when it was decided 
 that he must give up his hopes of study, and 
 devote his life to business." 
 
 " And yet, apparently, he has not lost very 
 seriously by the disappointment. Among 
 the graduates of our colleges you seldom 
 find greater mental cultivation, while in real 
 force of mind and general intelligence there 
 are few who equal him. But he has surely 
 pursued some systematic course of study and 
 self-discipline ? " 
 
 " He fully determined, on leaving school, 
 four or five years ago, that he would not 
 remain uneducated, though deprived of the 
 ordinary means of instruction. This reso- 
 lution, whether expressed in writing, I know 
 not, has evidently had a forming influence 
 upon his whole life. Of course, studying 
 only in the intervals of business, he has 
 labored under some difficulties in the eifort 
 to concentrate his attention ; but I think
 
 168 FRED LAW11ENCE. 
 
 the effort has itself been of service to 
 him." 
 
 "It must have been, for his mind has 
 acquired strength in the attempt to over- 
 come obstacles. For my own part, while I 
 am far from undervaluing our institutions of 
 learning, I believe there is more in the duties 
 and emergencies of life to develop the real 
 energies of the mind, than in a mere scho- 
 lastic discipline. One that is willing and 
 prepared to profit by the teaching of events, 
 will not want intelligence or real mental 
 power."
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 " Ah ! if our souls but poise and swing 
 Like a compass in its brazen ring, 
 Ever level and ever true 
 To the toil and the task we have to do, 
 The sights we see and the sounds we hear 
 Will be those of joy and not of fear." 
 
 LONGFELLOW. 
 
 MR RUSSEL might well be selected as a 
 model of a man of wealth. He enjoyed suc- 
 cess in commercial life, without the narrow- 
 ing effect which it often lias upon the char- 
 acter. The desire of wealth which had 
 prompted his early efforts, was not the mere 
 selfish instinct of avarice, but the wish to 
 wield a power for the good and happiness 
 of his fellow-men in a ^ide circle, and to 
 gratify the noblest tastes of a refined and 
 cultivated mind. His riches had been the 
 source of bounty and blessing to all within 
 the sphere of his influence. His sympathies 
 15 (">
 
 170 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 were universal, and there were none within 
 his knowledge who, through misfortune or 
 incapacity, suffered the evils of poverty, who 
 did not receive in some delicate and unosten- 
 tatious manner the material expression of 
 that sympathy. While the public and whole- 
 sale charities of the day received his hearty 
 support, it was in these less known and 
 more personal deeds of kindness that he 
 found the greatest delight. 
 
 Especially to those who were commencing 
 their career in life, his sympathy and encour- 
 agement were always cordially extended. 
 His friendship for them, when once estab- 
 lished, had all the enthusiastic warmth of 
 youth, with the firmness and judicious coun- 
 sel of later age. He entered into all their 
 plans with disinterested zeal, encouraged 
 every high aim and generous effort, and, by 
 every means in his power, assisted them 
 toward success. He seemed to value the 
 station he had attained, only for the sake of 
 lifting others to the same level; and both
 
 FRED LAWREXCE. Ill 
 
 money and influence were freely devoted to 
 this end. 
 
 For Frederic Lawience, Mr. Russel had 
 conceived an almost fatherly interest. He 
 resolved that if his wealth or influence could 
 produce any effect, that young man should 
 succeed as well as he deserved in life ; for, 
 without doubting in the least that an all- 
 arranging Providence is sure to reward dili- 
 gence and moral worth, Mr. Russel con- 
 sidered it a privilege to be the special agent 
 of that Providence. 
 
 As a first step, he proposed to Lawrence 
 a situation in the large publishing establish- 
 ment in which he was partner. 
 
 " I want you under my own eye," said he. 
 "for no one else can have as much interest in 
 your success as myself. Then, if yon like the 
 business, your way will be cleai to become a 
 member of the firm ; for that is always under- 
 stood in our establishment ; those who have 
 been long with us, and proved themselves 
 faithful, have the preference to strangers."
 
 172 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 " You are very kind, sir. I would like a 
 few days to consider the question before 
 making a decision. I have been thinking 
 that I ought to make choice of an employ 
 ment for life, in order to become thoroughly 
 acquainted with its details before the time 
 comes for going into business for myself." 
 
 " Certainly a matter like this should not 
 be decided hastily. You have not chosen 
 the dry-goods business as a permanence, 
 then ?" 
 
 " No, sir. I accepted my present situa- 
 tion because it was the only one that of- 
 fered. As a book-keeper, it 13 of compara- 
 tively little importance what department of 
 merchandise I have to do with ; but if I am 
 ever to hold a different position I should 
 have a great deal of choice." 
 
 " You are quite right in looking forward 
 to a different position, and providing for it 
 in time. What kinds of business have you 
 had in mind ?" 
 
 "I have given the subject but little thought
 
 PEED LAWRENCE. 173 
 
 as yet. The chief objection to the dry-goods 
 business is its insecurity. But I would also 
 like, if possible, an employment which is in 
 itself improving ; and nothing, perhaps, 
 would answer that purpose so well as the 
 book business." 
 
 " The ruling passion," said Mr. Russel, 
 with a friendly smile, " and a very worthy 
 passion it is. Self-culture is one great ob- 
 ject in life, and the most important means 
 to what we are told is its ' chief end.' " 
 
 " I do not know but I have made it in it 
 self the chief end," said Frederic, after a 
 moment's pause. " Being deprived of the 
 privileges which many enjoy, I have been 
 obliged to make my daily employments, as 
 far as possible, a means of education." 
 
 " Making them serve the very purpose for 
 which God ordained them. But there arc 
 other objects, doubtless, which you would 
 like to effect by your business." 
 
 " Yes, sir, and its direct object is by no 
 means the least. I have many motives for 
 15*
 
 174 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 desiring wealth, if it can be honorably 
 gained." 
 
 " Of course ; everybody desires it, and 
 rightly too, when the desire is not excessive. 
 But tell me now, why you would like to be 
 rich ; for you are apt to know the reasons 
 of things, and I fancy it is not a mere sordid 
 love of money that would actuate you." 
 
 " The first and strongest reason is very 
 personal. I am the only son, Mr. Russel, 
 and my mother is a widow. I wish to pros- 
 pen 1 in life, for her sake. But then, wealth is 
 a great power in the world as it now is, and 
 I suppose there are few that have not some 
 ambition for the exercise of power. There 
 are many objects to be accomplished in the 
 way of public improvements and charities, 
 which now I can only look on and wish that 
 some one would undertake and it seems to 
 me it would be far more pleasant, instead of 
 planning for others, to take hold and do the 
 work myself." 
 
 " Tery true wealth rightly used is ' twiee
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 175 
 
 blessed.' But, as to the means of attaining 
 it, one should make up his mind in the be- 
 ginning that a fori nne cannot be made in a 
 day. Many a man has been spoiled by too 
 great haste to be rich." 
 
 " I should greatly prefer," said Frederic, 
 " some sure and safe, though slow business. 
 I should have a sort of pride in fairly earn- 
 ing my success, if I attain it. The satisfac- 
 tion must be greater in the end than if 
 wealth were the result of a fortunate specu- 
 lation." 
 
 " I see you need no help in deciding the 
 question wisely. Well, think it over, and 
 let me know your decision as soon as it ia 
 made."
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 " MY daughter will be happy to see yots 
 to-morrow," said Mr. Russel, as he parted 
 with his young friend on the last day of the 
 year. " You make some New Year's calls, 
 I presume ?" 
 
 " A few, sir, and I shall not fail to pay m} 
 respects to Miss Eussel." 
 
 It was a splendid morning that ushered in 
 the new year. The clear and bracing air, 
 the brilliant contrast of snow-covered roofs 
 with the deep blue sky, the merry music of 
 sleigh-bells already on the jingle for the 
 day's festivities, were all in keeping with the 
 general exhilaration of spirits that seemed 
 to reign throughout the great cities which 
 cluster around the region of New Nether 
 lands. 
 
 According to the custom of the good old 
 
 (176)
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 177 
 
 Dutch settlers, the streets were filled with 
 callers, on their way to exchange the con- 
 gratulations of the season with the whole 
 circle of their acquaintance; Exclusiveness 
 for once is laid aside, and general hospital- 
 ity and good-will are the presiding spirits. 
 Long live the good old custom ! If abuse 
 has marred its benefits, and social cheer has 
 heightened into unnatural revelry, under a 
 poisonous stimulus, let us banish the poison, 
 and return to the free and uncorrupted cor- 
 diality of the olden time. 
 
 It was late in the afternoon when Fred- 
 eric Lawrence turned his steps in the direc- 
 tion of Mr. Russel's mansion. Within a lit- 
 tle distance of it, he met a young man whom 
 he had known familiarly in the way of busi- 
 ness, though with his social standing he waa 
 quite unacquainted. 
 
 " Is that you, Lawrence ? Good-evening." 
 " Good-evening, Marston. You are going 
 my way, it seems. Where are you going to 
 to call ?"
 
 178 FRED LAURENCE. 
 
 " On Miss Russel, in Fourteenth street." 
 
 " You know her, then ?" 
 
 " Know her ! guess I do, and what's more, 
 I mean to cultivate the acquaintance as fast 
 as possible. To tell the truth, I have some 
 hopes in that direction. Old man's pretty 
 rich, you know." 
 
 " I believe he is," said Frederic. 
 
 " But you are going there, too. Are you 
 acquainted with Miss Emily ? " 
 
 " Slightly. I am acquainted with her 
 father in business matters," said Frederic, 
 with the feeling that it was sacrilege to men- 
 tion Emily Russel in such a connection. 
 
 The house of Mr. Russel was in perfect 
 keeping with the character of its owner. 
 Stately and sumptuous as his wealth de- 
 manded, there was yet an air of home-like 
 comfort in the atmosphere which pervaded 
 it, which greeted one with a welcome at the 1 
 very threshold. The warm tints of the walls 
 and carpets inspired a feeling of cheerful- 
 ness, without a consciousness of whence it
 
 FEED LAWRENCE. 179 
 
 came ; and the unaffected ease and hospi- 
 tality which reigned among all the inhab- 
 itants of the house from master to footman, 
 made one feel at horr e from the first moment. 
 
 The parlors were furnished in a style 
 which conformed sufficiently to the fashions 
 of the time, and yet was evidently the result 
 of a taste rather of the massive o 7 .d English 
 order. Nothing seemed designed nerely for 
 show, and yet an elegant taste had found 
 use for so many beautiful objects, that the 
 most fastidious lover of ornament must have 
 been satisfied. The pictures were all select- 
 ed, and the position of each so judiciously 
 chosen, that it seemed almost a necessary 
 part of its own work. In short, all the 
 articles of comfort or taste were so harmoni- 
 ously disposed, that nothing seemed in excess. 
 
 Emily Russel was receiving company for 
 the first time since the death of her mother. 
 For the two preceding years she had been 
 absent from home ; and of the many who 
 called on this day, either from friendship for
 
 18U FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 her father, or to renew their acquaintance 
 with the family, very few were well known 
 to her. She would gladly have excused her- 
 self from thus alone performing the honors 
 as lady of the mansion ; but her father's 
 earnest wish prevailed, and she consented to 
 act the part. 
 
 He had himself selected her dress for the 
 occasion, and her appearance certainly did 
 honor to his choice. A natural anxiety to 
 acquit herself well of the duties of her new 
 position, cast a slight shade of timidity over 
 her address, but could not destroy its grace- 
 ful dignity as she received and entertained 
 her guests. 
 
 Marston had long been on terms of famil- 
 iarity, as their families were distantly re- 
 lated. Lawrence was received with a frank 
 and friendly cordiality which rendered him 
 at once perfectly at ease. He had not mot 
 Emily since he had left the steamer, on their 
 arrival in New York. Though the thought 
 of her had been a frequent one during the
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 181 
 
 
 
 interval, every word and look now recalled 
 to him with new distinctness the scene of the 
 wreck. He avoided any allusion to it, how- 
 ever, and the conversation ran on indifferent 
 subjects ; the " small talk" which with very 
 different degrees of tact and grace in ita 
 management is supposed to constitute the 
 universal currency of New Yeai 's day. 
 
 A generous entertainment was spread in 
 the back parlor, and thither the guests were 
 invited as they arose to take leave. 
 
 " Let me pour you a glass of wine, Mr, 
 Lawrence," said the fair lady of the mansion, 
 as she advanced to a side-table, on which 
 stood a massive silver service. 
 
 " Thank you, Miss Russel, I will take 
 lemonade in preference." 
 
 " And you, Mr. Marston ? " 
 
 " Certainly, if you please. A glass so 
 offered is not to be declined." 
 
 It was very far from the first glass Mar- 
 Bton had taken that day, with precisely the 
 game excuse ; and Lawrence began to see 
 16
 
 182 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 
 
 the cause of the talkativeness tnat had so 
 surprised and disgusted him during their 
 walk in the street. 
 
 But for himself, Frederic questioned, was 
 it necessary to be so strict ? It would be 
 the first and only glass that day, and wa it 
 not a rudeness to decline ? It was strange 
 that Emily Russel should be the tempter to 
 wrong, she who stood so near his ideal of 
 perfection. Could she offer anything that 
 was not pure and right ? " No ! " he said to 
 himself, " I would peril my life again for 
 her, but I will not peril my principles. She 
 knows not what she doing ; this is mere con- 
 formity to custom. She canno t have weighed 
 the consequences as I have done." These 
 thoughts flashed through his mind while 
 Marston was most politely sipping the fatal 
 glass which wrought his already over-tasked 
 brain to the pitch of intoxication. 
 
 " Do you never take wine, Mr. Lawrence? 
 Or, is it only for the present occasion that 
 yon refupe ? "
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 183 
 
 " I could not decline it from your hand, 
 Miss Russel, except in obedience to a reso- 
 lution long since formed." 
 
 " In that case it would be wrong to urge 
 you," replied Emily, but a slight shade, 
 either of disappointment or displeasure re- 
 mained upon her brow. 
 
 Marstou's talk now so clearly revealed 
 his mental condition, that it seemed expe- 
 dient to Lawrence to hasten their departure. 
 This, however, was no easy task ; for he 
 was so stupidly contented, draining glass 
 after glass, stammering his unmeaning com- 
 pliments, and becoming every moment more 
 satisfied with himself and complacent to- 
 ward others, that it required almost force to 
 withdraw him from the room. Emily's face 
 grew pale with terror at this most abhorrent 
 of sights, brought into her immediate pres- 
 ence ; and her imploring looks said to Law- 
 rence what she dared not say in words, ask- 
 ing to be relieved of the painful scene. 
 
 At last lie yielded to Frederic's persua-
 
 184 FEED LAWRENCE. 
 
 sions, and as they emerged into the jold night 
 air, a glimmering consciousness of his con- 
 dition seemed to dawn upon him. 
 
 " Where am I, and what ha ye I been 
 doing?" he exclaimed, seizing Fiederic'a 
 arm for support, though the lattor would 
 gladly have kept at a greater distance. 
 
 " What you may be sorry for to-morrow 
 morning," he replied. " And now, if you will 
 tell me where your home is, I will see yaii 
 there ; for you will never be able to find it 
 alone." 
 
 " They walked a few squares in silence, 
 proceeding from shame in the one, and dis- 
 gust in the other ; when Lawrence, after 
 seeing Marston safely deposited on his own 
 doorsteps, took his leave. 
 
 As he pondered the incidents of the hour, 
 during his solitary walk, Frederic did not 
 find occasion to alter his resolution with 
 regard to wine-drinking. He had never 
 seen so near an illustration of the degrading 
 effects of such an indulgence, but the decision
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 185 
 
 which he had formed by reflection, and under 
 the mfluerce of early instruction, seemed 
 fully warranted by the facts in the case. 
 The more closely he viewed the subject, the 
 more it seemed to him a marvel that any 
 persons, of elevated character, could conscien- 
 tiously place such temptation in the way of 
 their guests. Yet, on Emily's part, he 
 insisted to himself, it must be a mistake : she 
 could not know till she had seen the effects 
 of the subtle poison. How her father could 
 have sanctioned it, knowing, as he must, the 
 ways of the world, and the temptations of 
 the young, was the problem. He wished he 
 could hear Mr. Russel's opinion on the sub- 
 ject. To ask it now would be too great a 
 liberty. 
 
 Yet Mr. Russel, he remembered, was of a 
 wealthy old English family, and, doubtless, 
 to him the custom of wine-drinking was 
 sanctioned by long usage. Perhaps, blinded 
 by early association, he did not readily per- 
 ceive that what is safe in an equable or 
 IS*
 
 186 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 depressing climate, among a staid and inira- 
 passioned people, may be vastly different in 
 a climate where the very air contains suffi- 
 cient stimulus, and a thousand excitements 
 are driving the people to the verge of in- 
 sanity, in the mere pursuits of daily life.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 LET us turn back to the hospitable man- 
 sion, where its youthful mistress is left alone. 
 
 "0 God! what have I done?" she ex- 
 claimed, throwing herself into an arm-chair, 
 and pressing both hands to her throbbing 
 temples ; " Is this the result of my attempts at 
 hospitality ? Have I been dealing out poison, 
 thinking I was offering a most innocent 
 entertainment? Oh! I am but a child, and 
 motherless ; and yet I must bear the respon- 
 sibility of holding my place in social life, 
 and contributing to the happiness or misery 
 of those who surround me. May God guide 
 me, for I am weak, and the way is dark." 
 
 " How have you enjoyed your New Year's, 
 my pet ?" said her father, as he entered the 
 parlor, on returning from his own calls. 
 
 " I should be very ungrateful, dear father, 
 
 (187)
 
 188 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 not to have enjoyed it, when you have done 
 everything to make me happy." 
 
 " And yet, by that pale, sober face, you 
 have only tried, to be happy, as a matter 01 
 duty. You are tired, my darling ; a whole 
 day of company is too much for you." 
 
 " Oh, no, papa ; I am not so feeble as that, 
 but you know I am not used to being the 
 ' Lady of the Manor.' n 
 
 "But I see traces of tears. Come, tell 
 me, dear child, has anything happened to 
 trouble you ?" 
 
 " Not much, papa ; but please tell me one 
 thing. Is it right are you sure it is quite 
 right to offer wine to our guests ?" 
 
 " To be sure I am, my child ; but what has 
 put that into your little head now ?" 
 
 " Father, an hour ago Henry. Marston was 
 here, and left completely intoxicated." 
 
 " He did, the dog ! then he shall never 
 enter my house again, to insult my daughter 
 in that way. Were you alone when he 
 called?"
 
 LAWRENCE. 189 
 
 * No, father ; Mr. Lawrence came with 
 him, or else I do not know how he would 
 ever have gone away. I could do nothing, 
 of course." 
 
 "I will not leave you alone again, my 
 child. I did not think I was exposing you 
 to such a trial when I wished you to receive 
 our friends to-day." 
 
 " I was thinking not of the trial, but the 
 wrong of the thing. If does seem to me, 
 father, that it is doing injustice to our guests 
 to place such a temptation in their way." 
 
 " It is on their own responsibility if they 
 yield to the temptation, Emmie." 
 
 " But, father, is it not considered rude to 
 refuse wiue, when offered by a lady ? I con- 
 fess I was foolish enough to think so when 
 Mr. Lawrence declined it ; but, as I have 
 thought it over since they went away, it 
 appears in a very different light." 
 
 " Lawrence declined it from you ? Well, 
 he does not know yet what belongs to good 
 manners ; or el&) that conscience of his is
 
 190 FRED LATSRENCB. 
 
 making a monk of Mm. He is a little too 
 rigid now and then, but I like him vastly for 
 all that ; don't you, puss ?" 
 
 " Of course I do, father ; but that is a 
 matter of gratitude, too, you know. But, 
 father, I believe he is quite right on the wine 
 question. If a gentleman has from fifty to a 
 hundred calls to make, and civility requires 
 him to drink wine at every place, I really 
 don't see how he can be held responsible for 
 the possession of his faculties at the end of 
 the time." 
 
 " You make too many allowances, my dear, 
 for other people's failings. If a man has not 
 sense enough to control his actions, he has 
 no right to venture into the presence of 
 ladies. Most persons can take as much wine 
 as civility requires, without making fools of 
 themselves." 
 
 " At all events, dear father, I cannot be 
 again in the least degree responsible for 
 Buch a result. I know why you wanted me 
 to have wine on the table ; you wished to
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 191 
 
 provide everything that the most generous 
 hospitality could require ; but, if you are 
 willing, I would rather dispense with thia 
 one thing hereafter. There are enough 
 other articles which answer all the purpose, 
 and are perfectly harmless. I will take all 
 the reproach, if there be any ; but I cannot 
 again incur the remorse I have suffered this 
 evening." 
 
 " My poor little dove ! if you hold your-, 
 self responsible for all the evil-doings you 
 are compelled to witness, you will be misera- 
 ble indeed. You will not find all the world 
 as pure and sensitive as your own little con- 
 science. But of one thing be sure, your 
 father never will urge you to do that which 
 gives you pain ; so let us forget the troubles 
 of the evening, and talk of something more 
 pleasant. Which do you like the best, Mar- 
 ston, or Lawrence, Emmie ?" 
 
 " You know which I have reason to like 
 best to-night, papa." 
 
 ' Certainly, but forget that now, darling :
 
 192 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 you shall never see Henry Marston again 
 until he has made suitable apologies to 
 me." 
 
 " I think it would be better to say nothing 
 about it, father ; only I will decline seeing 
 him if he calls again. I have no right to 
 make any complaint of this evening's inci- 
 dent, since the blame was partly mine ; but 
 I have wished for several weeks past, that 
 something would happen to prevent his call- 
 ing." 
 
 " Why, Emmie ?" 
 
 " I think, father," replied Emily, the color 
 deepening in her cheeks, " perhaps I am 
 wrong to have thought so, but it seems to 
 me he presumes too much upon the acquaint- 
 ance which we have always had with hia 
 family." 
 
 " Which acquaintance you do not wish to 
 extend to him ?" 
 
 " No, papa ; for as I told you, I do not 
 like him much." 
 
 " Well, do as you please, my dear ; I am
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 19 
 
 rather inclined to agree with you there. 
 But tell me, how do you like Lawrence ?" 
 
 " Much better, papa. It seems to me one 
 might trust him as a friend, and have perfect 
 confidence in his principles and judgment in 
 all cases." 
 
 '' He has not found out yet that your old 
 father is rich, eh?" 
 
 " I don't know, papa ; if he has, he treats 
 me with no more deference than he would 
 any other lady. But, father, do^ou know it 
 isn't quite pleasant to feel under so deep 
 obligations to an almost stranger ?" 
 
 " lie has not reminded you of it, I hope? ? ' 
 
 " Oh, no, indeed ! he has never made the 
 remotest allusion to it, except when you have 
 introduced the subject, and then lie seems to 
 regard the service he rendered as a mere 
 'natter of course." 
 
 " I think, then, you need not trouble your- 
 self about the obligation. Emmie. Between 
 generous souls gratitude is no burden. I 
 shall do all I can to advance his interests, 
 17
 
 194 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 not imagining, any more than you do, that 
 the life of ray darling is to be purchased or 
 paid for by any amount of pecuniary service. 
 It would be an insult to regard my efforts in 
 his behalf, in the character of a reward ; we 
 will place it all on the friendly basis of 
 mutual service. I wish, Emmie, you were 
 acquainted with Lawrence's sister." 
 
 " Have you seen her, papa ?" 
 
 " I had a moment's glimpse of her when ]*. 
 called some weeks ago. She appears like a 
 lovely girl, and just about your own age. 
 From her brother's account of her, I should 
 think she Avas just the companion you want. 
 You are not so exclusive, I suppose, as to 
 desire only wealthy acquaintances ?" 
 
 " I am not quite so foolish yet, I hope. In 
 fact, papa, I have come to the conclusion to- 
 night that I don't like people w^io have al- 
 ways been rich." 
 
 "I have never been very poor, Emmie." 
 
 " Well, I rather like you, papa, but then 
 that is iifferer.t- You do not think it is the
 
 PEED LAWRENCE. 195 
 
 ehiet end of life to make a dash in society. 
 Besides, you made your own fortune, or the 
 most of it, and there is some independence 
 in that." 
 
 " Why, you have quite a fancy for enter- 
 prising youths. I hope I shall not find you 
 have run away one of these moonlight nights 
 with some Young America who is going to 
 make his fortune in California." 
 
 " I don't think I shall run away with any- 
 body to leave my papa all alone. No, I am 
 going to stay and be your housekeeper all 
 my days/' 
 
 " I shall not be willing to part with my 
 little housekeeper just at present. But, in 
 the meantime, I do not wish to keep you 
 mewed up here alone ; I would gather around 
 you as many pleasant companions of your 
 own age as possible. But I will confess to 
 you, my dear little girl, that I have wanted 
 to keep you aloof from general society, such 
 as it is here in the city. It dissipates the 
 mind and renders the heart shallow. I be-
 
 196 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 lieve you are TIOW old enough to select for 
 yourself, and will not be dazzled by the vain 
 show of wealth and gayety." 
 
 "Because you have given me the oppor- 
 tunity, dear father, to appreciate something 
 better. You have shown me what there is 
 in the world of real beauty and grandeur 
 and nobility of soul ; and you could not ex- 
 pect that I would come back to be satisfied 
 with mere fashionable life. I feel now the 
 need of friends who will help me to im- 
 prove." 
 
 " That is the true use of companionships 
 choose your friends slowly and with care. 
 Do not be in too great haste to have a large 
 circle of acquaintances. You will gradually 
 be surrounded with a pleasant and profitable 
 society of your own. To begin, I am quite 
 sure you will find Miss Addie Lawrence one 
 whose tastes will be congenial to yours, and 
 perhaps you can help each other in your 
 favorite pursuits."
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 WITH tlie beginning of the year, Frederic 
 Lawrence entered his new position as clerk 
 in the publishing house of Russel, Howard 
 & Co. The change was a most agreeable 
 one to him, for a very different spirit per- 
 vaded the establishment from that which 
 governed the contracted dealings of his for- 
 mer employers. The firm of which M r. 
 Russel had been the founder was still gov- 
 erned by the liberal principles of action 
 which characterized his own conduct. The 
 numerous clerks employed were treated with 
 such generous confidence, that their interests 
 seemed identified with those of their em- 
 ployers, and the selfishness which usually 
 governs business transactions had little room 
 to show itself. Frederc rejoiced in the 
 J7* (197)
 
 198 FBED LAWRENCE. 
 
 realization of his idea of what a commercial 
 establishment might and ought to be. 
 
 Added to this, the employment itself waa 
 far more to his taste than the one he had 
 left. From the principle of association, the 
 very names and aspect of books had a charm 
 for him ; and the mention of a favorite 
 author would cal] up so many pleasant 
 images, that the mere details of debt and 
 credit borrowed a brightness from it. This 
 is perhaps the best use of imagination, to 
 gild with its own light the dull common- 
 places of " work-day life." 
 
 In the meantime our hero had not lost his 
 place in the esteem of Mr. Russel. This 
 gentleman, the more closely he observed .the 
 conduct of his young friend, admired the 
 more his intelligence and ready tact in com- 
 mercial affairs, and above all his scrupulous 
 fidelity in the performance of duty. These 
 were distinguishing traits in his own charac- 
 ter, and had contributed largely to his suc- 
 cess. Such qualities furnished a ready pass-
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 199 
 
 port to his favor, and wherever found, he 
 marked their possession as one to be encour 
 tiged and assisted, if need -were. In the 
 present case he wished to cultivate the ac- 
 quaintance not only in a business way, but 
 socially. Frederic received a cordial invi- 
 tation to call often and familiarly, an invi- 
 tation which he was glad to accept. 
 
 Not that Frederic entertained any plans 
 or hopes for the future, as connected witli 
 Eniiiy Russel. With the routine of daily 
 duty had returned the sober and sensible 
 views of life upon which he had always 
 acted. To perform faithfully and well the 
 duties of a sou and brother, was enough, he 
 concluded, to occupy his thoughts for many 
 years to come ; it would be simply absurd to 
 contemplate any higher social responsibility. 
 If the image of Emily now appeared to his 
 mind as very near the ideal of perfected 
 humanity, it was viewed with that sober 
 satisfaction with which we dream of angels, 
 while we trudge patiently along with mor
 
 200 FEED LAWRENCE. 
 
 tals the dusty pathways of every-day life. 
 It is pleasant to think that some are perfect 
 though ourselves are not, and though we 
 may not live in their presence. 
 
 " Calling again on your friends in New 
 York?" Addie inquired, as her brother 
 returned late one evening in the spring. 
 " I am more than half jealous of your valued 
 acquaintance there, Fred. Fourteenth street 
 will have more attractions for you than 
 home." 
 
 " Don't be afraid, sister mine, that any 
 place or any person will ever destroy the 
 attractions of home for me. I think you 
 have no great reason to be alarmed, for I 
 have not been there since New Year's. But 
 Mr. Russel has so cordially invited me to 
 call, and evidently with so much sincerity" 
 
 " That out of disinterested regard for Mr. 
 Russel's wishes, and in gratitude for hii! 
 kindness to you, you have felt really obliged 
 to comply with his request. You're a model 
 of self-sacrifice, Fred."
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 201 
 
 " I want you to go with me the next time 
 I call there. Miss Russel sent a very polite 
 and cordial invitation to you." 
 
 " I don't like to call on rich people, Fred. 
 Not from any silly feeling of inferiority ; 
 for you well know I value myself neither 
 nioic nor less for being poor; but I hate 
 anything that could possibly seem like aspir- 
 ing to what is called a higher level in 
 society." 
 
 " So do I, Addie ; I have pride enough to 
 stand on my own character, I hope, without 
 regard to the mere accident of wealth or 
 poverty. If I thought any such distinction 
 was regarded by Mr. Russel, I would never 
 enter his house. But you Avill find them 
 very different from most of our acquaint- 
 ances who are wealthy. They seem to for- 
 get the fact themselves, and use money only 
 as a means of comfort and refinement. Miss 
 Russel has littlo or nothing to do with fash- 
 ionable society and from choice, because she 
 has a taste foi something higher. She told
 
 02 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 me that she had very few friencU, as yet, in 
 the city. and would be glad to make jour ac- 
 quaintance." 
 
 " Well, Fred, I shall be happy to go. I 
 really have some interest in meeting Miss 
 Rus'scl, since she has taken your fancy so 
 completely. But whose call do you think 
 you have lost, by being away this evening ?'' 
 
 " I cannot guers, so you will have to tell 
 me." 
 
 " Your two companions in your European 
 travels." 
 
 " Wht)t ; Charley Mason home again ?" 
 
 " Yes, and Mr. Miller, who, it seems, is to 
 remain some time in the city. They were 
 disappointed, of course, not to meet you, but 
 promised to call again, very BOOH." 
 
 The call was made at Mr. Russel's before 
 'many weeks, and greatly to the satisfaction 
 of all parties. Emily and Addie had too 
 many tastes in common, to need a long lime 
 for the forming of an acquaintance. They 
 had read the same books, were interested in
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 203 
 
 the same subject?, and. within half an hour, 
 both seemed to have forgotten that they had 
 been strangers, and were chatting as famil- 
 iurly as friends for a lifetime. Nothing 
 could be further from the thoughts of either 
 than the vulgar distinction of wealth which 
 fashion might have interposed between them. 
 Emily began to feel the true pleasure of con- 
 genial society ; and admitted that a little 
 circle of friends like these might add even to 
 the attractions of home. When the visitors 
 left, at an early hour, it was with a cordial 
 invitation to repeat the visit soon and fre- 
 quently. 
 
 Addie's call was soon returned, and from 
 that time a frequent interchange of calls and 
 visits was maintained between the two. Ad- 
 die was one year the younger, but the self 
 reliance which circumstances had rendered 
 necessary had given a strength and maturity 
 to her character which more than balanced 
 the difference of ag?. In those accomplish- 
 ments which demand wealth and leisure for
 
 204 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 their acquirement, Emily was of course the 
 superior, while Addie had all the native 
 taste which led her to appreciate these ex- 
 cellencies in her friend, without the low self 
 ishness which would have envied her their 
 possession. 
 
 Many a pleasant Saturday, when released 
 from her duties as teacher, Addie spent with 
 her friend in their favorite occupations ; and 
 at evening Fred would call, on his return 
 from business, to escort his sister home. 
 These days were long to be remembered by 
 both the friends, as among the brightest 
 spots in life. They sang together their fa- 
 vorite songs, Emily accompanying with her 
 harp or piano ; together they visited the 
 galleries of paintings, enjoying all the treas- 
 ures of art which the city could afford ; and 
 still more pleasantly they spent whole days 
 in Mr. Russel's well-furnished library, read- 
 ing in company their favorite books, or talk- 
 ing, over their needlework, of various sub- 
 jects suggested by their reading. Addie
 
 FEED LAWRENCE. 205 
 
 was never tired of hearing, noi Emily of 
 describing, the various scenes she had wit- 
 nessed in Europe ; the grandeur of the Alps, 
 and the beauty of the Italian lakes and sun- 
 sets ; the wonders of art in the cities of 
 Italy and France ; the persons of distinction 
 of whom both had often heard, and whom 
 Emily had seen. Both seemed to enjoy the 
 pleasures of the tour without its perils. 
 
 The studies in which each had been sepa- 
 rately interested had a double charm, from be- 
 ing shared with a sympathizing companion ; 
 and, as in all true friendships, both were 
 made better and happier by the intercourse. 
 18
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 THE Christmas holidays were again ap- 
 proaching the season for social cheer and 
 renewed tokens of home affection. Costly 
 gifts are interchanged where fortune favors ; 
 but more valued still are the humbler offer- 
 ings purchased by cheerful self-denial. Many 
 a son or brother, who through the whole 
 year has not indulged himself in a single ar- 
 ticle of luxury, grows suddenly extravagant 
 in behalf of the loved ones at home ; and 
 treasures far too valuable for one's own use, 
 are only too trifling as expressions of re- 
 membrance to another. 
 
 Frederic, too, had been plotting, and on a 
 larger scale even than the good Santa Glaus, 
 all whose gifts are supposed to come through 
 the chimney. 
 
 " I ha\e an idea in my head, Addie," said 
 (206)
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 207 
 
 he, one evening in December. Their mother 
 had just retired, leaving the brother and 
 sister bj the glowing grate in the sitting 
 room. 
 
 " An idea ! is it possible ? Let me con 
 gratulate you on so unusual a possession." 
 
 " Yes, an idea, and, if realized, it will be a 
 possession, too, for us all. What's more, I 
 want you to help me carry out my plan." 
 
 " At your service, then what is the 
 plan ?" 
 
 '' Addie, do you remember the house in 
 Vernon avenue, where we used to live ?" 
 
 " I know the house very well, though I 
 don't remember living there." 
 
 " We were both born there, you know. It 
 was the only house father ever owned, and a 
 beautiful little place it was. Father waa 
 obliged to give it up, on account of some 
 losses in business, and then we came here. 
 You were only three years old, so it is not 
 st.nmge you do not remember the place." 
 
 <: I have often heard mother speak of it
 
 208 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 It was only this fall we were walking past 
 it one day ; it was standing vacant then. 
 Mother said that, until very lately, she could 
 not bear to see the house ; it reminded her 
 too painfully of old times. But what has this 
 to do with your plan, Fred 1" 
 
 " A great deal, since it is the very object 
 of my plan. The fact is, Addie, I am going 
 to buy that house." 
 
 " Buy a house, Fred ! I thought you were 
 a sober youth. Now you must be crazy.'' 
 
 " Not so bad as that, sis. I don't intend 
 to go into any wild schemes, or involve us in 
 any embarrassments. I have the whole thing 
 planned and arranged with Mr. Smith, who 
 is the owner of the house. In the first place, 
 you know, it costs less in the end to buy a 
 house than to rent one. Then you did not 
 know, I suppose, that I have been laying 
 aside something every month this year for 
 that very purpose." 
 
 *' Laying aside from what, pray ?" 
 
 ' From my saJary, to be sure. Perhaps J
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 209 
 
 was wrong not to tell you, that it was raised 
 again six months ago, and it has always 
 been better, you know, than I ever had at 
 the old place. It was too bad, as I thought 
 then, to leave so much of the burden of our 
 support upon you ; but you see I Ijocame 
 quite sure that 1 could carry out my plan ; 
 and then, with a house of our own, and no 
 rent to pay, my salary will be amply suffi- 
 cient for our support ; so you may give up 
 school-teaching as soon as you please." 
 
 " And so you have been plotting and plan- 
 ning all this long year, without letting me 
 into your secret. I do think, Fred, it is 
 quite an enterprise to be buying a house out 
 of a clerk's salary. How many others, with 
 the same income, do you think would under- 
 take the same thing ?" 
 
 " Not those who want to spend more than 
 their income in wine and cigars, and fast 
 horses. If I prefer different amusements, that 
 is a mere matter of taste, you know. Bui 
 how do you like my plan ?" 
 18*
 
 210 FEED LAWRENCE. 
 
 " Grandly, of course ; but I really don't 
 gee how you can carry it out." 
 
 " I can though, as you shall see in the end. 
 With what I have laid aside, and what I can 
 spare now, I shall pay eight hundred dollars 
 at once, and tho rest will remain on mort- 
 gage, the interest of which will be much less 
 than our present rent. If I live, I am 
 certain of discharging the whole amount in 
 two years. But the hardest part will come 
 upon you. The house must be furnished, 
 you know, and all in two weeks." 
 
 "Oh! I shall like that so much! But 
 how shall we manage it without mother's 
 knowledge ?" 
 
 " If she would only make some one a visit 
 during the holidays. Cannot you persuade 
 her to do so ?" 
 
 " Yes ; now I remember, she was wanting 
 to visit our friends in Massachusetts. I 
 will coax her to go the week when I am out 
 of school, and then we can move, and get 
 everything arranged. I wish we could makg
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 211 
 
 everything look just as it used to be. 
 can we find out about that ?" 
 
 " I have been taxing my memory for the 
 last few days, and I find I have quite a dis- 
 tinct recollection of most of the rooms. It 
 was a beautiful place then, Addie." 
 
 " It is beautiful now outside, at least. It 
 will not be quite so pleasant in the winter, 
 but in the spring we will have the garden 
 all in bloom, and then it will be delight- 
 ful." 
 
 Mrs. Lawrence was easily persuaded to 
 make a week's visit to a friend in New 
 England, and Addie engaged most earnestly 
 in the work of removal. The carpets, which 
 were most worn, must be replaced by new 
 ones, and Fred's memory was tasked to the 
 utmost to select those, as nearly as possible, 
 like the old ones. The time-honored articles 
 of furniture were set in their old familiar 
 places ; everything rubbed and polished, till 
 the whole room seemed glowing with satis- 
 faction.
 
 212 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 By the last day of the year the work was 
 done, the new house in complete order, and 
 the old, empty and deserted. As Addie 
 stood in the parlor, with the key in her 
 hand,- taking 1 the last look at her home of 
 many years, the door-bell rang, and Emily 
 Russcl appeared. 
 
 " This aeeounts for your long absence, you 
 little culprit," said she.gayly. " Here I have 
 been expecting you all the week, knowing 
 you were out of school ; and it seems you 
 have been taking advantage of mamma's ab- 
 sence to cut up all sorts of freaks in the way 
 of housekeeping. What, you have a fancy 
 for primitive simplicity, and are going to re- 
 ceive your guests to-morrow on bare floors. 
 That furthers my plans though, so I shall 
 not scold." 
 
 " Yes, you cannot imagine what domestic 
 revolutions Fred and I have been plotting. 
 We have taken the opportunity while 
 mother was absent to migrate from one nest 
 into another. But if you are not too tired
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 213 
 
 perhaps you will walk with me to our new 
 home ; it is not so very far." 
 
 It was a clear and beautiful winter morn- 
 ing ; the bracing air added to the enjoyment 
 of the walk, and our two young friends, in 
 high spirits, chatted merrily over their plans. 
 Emily entered heartily into the interest of 
 the movement, only regretting that she 
 could not have assisted in its accomplish- 
 ment. 
 
 " Oh ! Addie, if I had a mother to work 
 for, it seems to me I never could know an- 
 other wish." 
 
 " But you have the same pleasure, dear 
 Emily, in contributing to the happiness of 
 your father. You know you are everything 
 in the world to him." 
 
 " I know it, Addie ; and never was there a 
 kinder, more indulgent father. He seems to 
 live only to make me happy ; and I fear some- 
 times I shall grow selfish from being so in- 
 dulged. But oh ! Addie, you cannot know 
 how much I need a mother's sympathy and
 
 214 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 counsel. I feel it to day more than e\ er. 1 
 came to see if you would not spend to-moi> 
 row with me, and help me receive my calls ; 
 out I see I must not ask this, since you 
 have so much to enjoy in your own new 
 home." 
 
 "But why do you need any help, dear 
 Emmie? You have so pleasant a circle of 
 acquaintances that I am sure you will enjoy 
 the day." 
 
 " I was alone last New Year's, Addie, and 
 I hope never to pass such a day again. It 
 will be different to-morrow ; and it was 
 partly for that reason that I wanted to have 
 you with me. Father has at last consented 
 to let me do without wine upon our table 
 this year, though he has always considered 
 it essential to a complete entertainment. I 
 do not and cannot think it is right, from my 
 experience last year. Now, you know, hav- 
 ing had my own way in this, I would not for 
 the world fail in any other respect, of enter 
 tainiug our guests agreeably.
 
 FRED LAWKENCE. 215 
 
 " I should be of no assistance to you, 
 Emmie, for I know far less of social customs 
 than you. But I am sure you cannot fail of 
 doing your part well. Here we are now, at 
 our new home, and Maggie is looking out of 
 the window waiting for me." 
 
 "What a charming place!" said Emily, as 
 they ascended the steps of the south piazza, 
 over which vines and rosebushes were train- 
 ed, leafless now, but giving promise of future 
 loveliness. 
 
 " And how beautifully you have arranged 
 everything !'' she continued, as they entered 
 the little parlor. Maggie had kindled a 
 blazing fire in the grate ; and the whole 
 room was the picture of cheerfulness and 
 comfort. The folds of the snowy muslin 
 window-curtains had been arranged for th 
 fiftieth time at least, by Addie's careful fin 
 gers ; the position of every article had been 
 studied with reference to artistic effect and 
 the most fastidious taste could hardly have 
 suggested an improvement.
 
 216 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 " Why did you not let me come and help 
 you ?" asked Emily, as they passed from 
 room to room. 
 
 " I wanted very much to see you, but 
 could not find the time either to go or send, 
 I have been so busy every moment of every 
 day. There is only one thing left to be 
 done, and that is, to arrange our books in 
 the little library back of the parlors. Let 
 us do that before dinner, and then we will 
 spend the afternoon as we usually do, in 
 reading and sewing. You must help me bv 
 being my guest to-day, the last day of my 
 housekeeping." 
 
 The long expected morning of the New 
 Year at last dawned. Mrs. Lawrence was 
 expected by the early boat, and Fred was 
 on the dock before its arrival, eagerly wait- 
 ing to conduct her to their new home. 
 
 " It was not necessary to come with a car- 
 riage, my son, the distance is so short." 
 
 " But I wanted it, this morning, for once, 
 mother ; you will not object."
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 217 
 
 They rode on for some minutes, talking 
 busily of the journey, and the friends she 
 had left, Fred doing his utmost to absorb hia 
 mother in conversation. At last she said : 
 
 " We are going too far, Fred." 
 
 " I think not, mother." 
 
 " But I am sure of it, my son, and we are 
 very far from the right street." 
 
 ' Mother, would you be very much dis- 
 pleased, if Addie and I had taken a great 
 responsibility while you were away? if we 
 had even taken another house without con- 
 sulting you ? " 
 
 Before there was time for a reply, the 
 carriage stopped before the familiar door ; 
 and Addie stood upon the piazza to welcome 
 her mother to hor long lost home. 
 
 ' My children ! What does this mean ? " 
 
 " That this place is yours again, dear 
 mother. I have bought it, and it shall be 
 our home while we live." 
 
 The benevolent Santa Glaus looked upon 
 few happier groups that morning than th 
 19
 
 218 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 one which assembled in the little breakfast 
 room, for the repast which Adclie had pre- 
 pared with her utmost skill. The place 
 naturally suggested old scenes and thoughts 
 to the mother's mind. 
 
 " It is like a dream," said she, " that so 
 many years have passed, and you who were 
 little children when we left here, are now 
 grown up to manhood and womanhood." 
 
 ' I well remember the day we left," said 
 Frederic. " Though too much a child to 
 understand the reasons, I knew you were 
 sad at leaving the old home ; and I thought 
 then, mother, that when I was a man, I 
 would buy it for you again."
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 NEARLY five years have passed, with but 
 few outward changes in the condition of 
 the subjects of our story. The young people 
 have not yet grown old, though, it may be, 
 all have been advancing in the discipline of 
 life, nearer to its great object. Success has 
 crowned the efforts of Frederic Lawrence, 
 and many cherished plans which he had pro- 
 posed to himself in the conduct of life, have 
 been attained. A moment's call at the two 
 dwellings which we have before visited, will 
 perhaps give us some idea of the true state 
 of affairs. 
 
 Let us look first into Mr. Kussel's parlor, 
 where he sits with his daughter, on a beau- 
 tiful evening in June. The gas is not yet 
 lighted. Emily is sitting by an open win- 
 dow, with downcast eyes, wrapped in the 
 
 (219;
 
 220 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 moonlight and her own busy thoughts. Ilei 
 father breaks the silence. 
 
 " Has Lawrence been here to-day, Emil/ ? x 
 
 " Yes, father." 
 
 " And has opened the same subject to 3 on 
 that he did to me this morning ? " 
 
 " I suppose so, father." 
 
 " And what liave you told him ? " 
 
 " That I could never leave you, nor muke 
 any new arrangement that would interfere 
 with my duty to you." 
 
 "Remember that I cannot always stay 
 with you, Emmie. I am growing old, dar- 
 ling, and I wisli to know that you will be 
 cared for when I am gone. There is no one 
 to whose protection I could so cheerfully 
 entrust my child as Lawrence, no one in 
 whose honor and goodness I could have such 
 perfect confidence. Tell me, my Emily, you 
 will not disappoint me in this ! " 
 
 " Father," said Emily, in a trembling 
 voice, "I regard Frederic Lawrence as a 
 true and faithful friend, and I shall never
 
 LAWRENCE. 
 
 esteem another as highly as I do him ; but I 
 feel that my place is with you ; you must not 
 send me away." 
 
 " How would it answer, Emily, if you had 
 a home of your own, and should take your 
 old father to live with you ? " 
 
 " Would you go, papa ? " 
 
 " That would alter the case, would it not? 
 I thought so. Well, Emmie, what sort of 
 a home would you like ? " 
 
 " I hardly care, papa. Any place where 
 you live, and those I love best, would be a 
 pleasant home to me. I have always been 
 happy here, and yet I love the country, you 
 know." 
 
 " Do you remember that country seat just 
 beyond B , that we saw on oar ride ? " 
 
 "The one that was surrounded by those 
 splendid trees, with the sloping grassy la^\ n 
 on three sides ? Yes, father, I remember it 
 very well." 
 
 "Would that suit you for a home, Era 
 mie?" 
 
 19*
 
 222 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 " Oh, it would more than suit me, dear 
 father. I do not need anything so beauti- 
 ful." 
 
 "I thought you would like the situation. 
 It is not more than half a mile from Mrs. 
 Lawrence's ; and so you and Addie will be 
 near neighbors. Well, it is yours, my child. 
 I had the deed drawn this afternoon, because 
 it was your birthday. Take it as your birth- 
 day gift, and may its association with your 
 father's love, make it a very happy home to 
 you." 
 
 " Dear, dear father ! you are too kind. 
 How shall I ever thank you enough ? " 
 
 " By never opposing my wishes on so im- 
 portant a subject. What ! you thought of 
 acting over the old scene of wilful child 
 and tyrannical parent. But we have settled 
 the dispute now, have we not, Emmie ?" 
 
 " I believe so, father." 
 
 On the same evening, Mrs. Lawrence and 
 Addie are sitting on the piazza of their quiet 
 suburban home. We must be excused if
 
 FRED LAWKENCE. 223 
 
 here too, tre find ourselves listening to fam- 
 ily confidences. 
 
 " May I know the result of your decision 
 this morning, my daughter," inquires Mrs. 
 Lawrence. 
 
 " Had you not guessed what the result 
 would be, mother ?" 
 
 "I might have done so, had I not remem- 
 bered another acquaintance of longer stand- 
 ing, which I thought might interfere witli 
 this." 
 
 " No, mother, that was settled some time 
 ago. I have always liked Charles Mason 
 well enough, as a Mend, you know; but, 
 mother, I must love some one who is a great 
 deal wiser and better than I, one who will 
 help me to improve. This, Alfred Miller 
 does. When talking with him, I always feel 
 dissatisfied with my own ignorance, and yet 
 I am never discouraged. It then seems pos- 
 sible that, with time and opportunity, I 
 may become all that I want to be." 
 
 " That is, he inspires both hope and as
 
 224 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 piration. You are quite right, my child, 
 These very affections which form so impor- 
 tant a part of our life, were undoubtedly de- 
 signed to advance our mental and spiritual 
 growth." 
 
 " Shall I interrupt your twilight conver- 
 sation?" asked Frederic, appearing at the 
 door. 
 
 ' I presume not," replied his mother, but 
 the three sat some moments, musing in the 
 moonlight, before either spoke. At last 
 Frederic said : 
 
 " I have just been thinking, mother, that 
 it is ten years to-day since I left school. 
 How well I remember the day ! It seemed 
 then as if all my plans for life were over 
 turned." 
 
 " And yet you have been able to form new 
 ones which have been prospered. Perhaps 
 you have even learned some lessons, by 
 means of the disappointment, which you 
 would have missed without it." 
 
 " I have learned one thing, at least," Fred
 
 FRED LAWRENCE. 225 
 
 eric replied, ' that it is possible to realize 
 the principal ends of life, without having 
 every thing one's own way. It seemed to 
 me then, that without a collegiate course I 
 could never do or be very much in life. 
 Now I begin to think there is something to 
 live for after all." 
 
 " A wiser than we has the ordering of our 
 lives," replied his mother. " If we are atten- 
 tive to His direction, we shall find a thou- 
 sand means of improvement, where human 
 wisdom could supply but one. All the as- 
 sistances which institutions of learning can 
 afford, and which, when bestowed upon us, 
 cannot be too highly valued, are at best but 
 a small part of the whole discipline of liie. 
 It is a grand system of instruction, which 
 our Heavenly Father has appointed in this 
 world. If we are but disposed to profit by 
 all our opportunities, we shall find that not 
 only the truths of the material creation, but 
 all the events and orderings of our social 
 lives, every friendship, every duty, every
 
 226 FRED LAWRENCE. 
 
 trial and disappointment, will minister to 
 our growth toward the perfection for which 
 God has destined us. The whole world is a 
 school, in which not only mind, but heart 
 and soul, are to be developed ; our lives are 
 the term of instruction, and we graduate 
 when our earthly education is complete, and 
 we are fitted for a higher state of being, a 
 wider sphere, and a larger activity. 
 
 THB mn>.
 
 A 000129825 6