past successes, though now happy in the more private walks of life.

In one drawer of the quaint little bureau which he used, were kept the
relics of his father; very few and poor, and of no interest to any one
but himself,--only the letter telling of his death, a worn-out
watch-chain, and a photograph of Señor José Montebello, with his
youthful son standing on his head, both airily attired, and both
smiling with the calmly superior expression which gentlemen of their
profession usually wear in public. Ben's other treasures had been
stolen with his bundle; but these he cherished and often looked at when
he went to bed, wondering what heaven was like, since it was lovelier
than California, and usually fell asleep with a dreamy impression that
it must be something like America when Columbus found it,--"a pleasant
land, where were gay flowers and tall trees, with leaves and fruit such
as they had never seen before." And through this happy hunting-ground
"father" was forever riding on a beautiful white horse with wings, like
the one of which Miss Celia had a picture.

Nice times Ben had in his little room poring over his books, for he
soon had several of his own; but his favorites were Hammerton's
"Animals" and "Our Dumb Friends," both full of interesting pictures and
anecdotes such as boys love. Still nicer times working about the house,
helping get things in order; and best of all were the daily drives with
Miss Celia and Thorny, when weather permitted, or solitary rides to
town through the heaviest rain, for certain letters _must_ go and come,
no matter how the elements raged. The neighbors soon got used to the
"antics of that boy," but Ben knew that he was an object of interest as
he careered down the main street in a way that made old ladies cry out
and brought people flying to the window, sure that some one was being
run away with. Lita enjoyed the fun as much as he, and apparently did