dear mo-ther, I must be start-ing;" but he did do it at last, al-though
it was af-ter ma-ny strug-gles to keep down the beat-ings of his heart.

[Illustration: THE FIRST ASSISTANCE.]

His mo-ther heard him with a be-wil-der-ed look, as if she heard the
pro-po-sal for the first time; and her grief burst forth with
un-con-trol-la-ble vi-o-lence as she threw her arms round his neck with
an a-go-ny on-ly known to a fond mo-ther.

He tried to com-fort her, and to smile through his tears, as he put on
his hat with a re-so-lute thump, seiz-ed up-on his stick and wal-let,
and lift-ed the latch of the door that was to o-pen for his bold
en-trance in-to the world, so full of pro-mise to him.

Again they lin-ger-ed in their lit-tle gar-den, where e-ve-ry flow-er
seem-ed an old friend to be part-ed with: a-gain the tears and the
em-bra-ces. At last the lit-tle gate was swung wide o-pen, and Wil-lie
step-ped bold-ly forth. His mo-ther co-ver-ed her face and wept. He
turn-ed to-wards her with ir-re-so-lu-tion: he felt how dif-fi-cult it
was to leave one so dear and af-fec-tion-ate; but his du-ty was sim-ple,
and he would do it: with one more "good bye," he was gone on his way
weep-ing.

The lark rose in the morn-ing sky, and sang her joy-ous song. The sweet,
bal-my air of ear-ly day cool-ed his throb-bing brow, and his tears
gra-du-al-ly ceas-ed to flow; but his lit-tle breast heav-ed now and
then with sobs as the storm of grief sub-si-ded. His foot-steps grew
quick-er the far-ther he left his home be-hind; for be-fore him lay the
land of pro-mise, and his lit-tle brain was full of dreams of suc-cess,