of friends. They can make a fortune by it, you know. You see, my husband
proposes to make your husband's fortune. He is the greatest man to make
other people's fortunes. Yes, he is. My husband's head is full of great
progressive ideas. And he has made the fortunes of so many men." Here
Mrs. Chapman lowered her voice to a whisper, and drew her chair a little
nearer to Angeline. "There is another little matter that should make us
firm friends. I would not mention it, you know; but I feel that it is no
secret." Here she dropped one of her most significant bows. "I have
taken such a liking to your son. Such a promising young man, he is. That
voyage will make a man of him; who knows but he may come home with a
large fortune. I have known stranger things than that. I have been
encouraging a little love affair between him and my daughter Mattie. You
have seen my Mattie? She is clever, wonderfully smart, handsome, too;
and if she gets the right kind of a husband, will shine in society."

"My poor boy, my poor boy!" exclaimed Angeline, her eyes filling with
tears at the mention of his name. "How, how, how I should like to see
him to-night. There is where he used to sit, (here her voice yielded to
her emotions,) and here is the chair we always kept for him. Perhaps we
shall never see him again. He was so good and so kind to us. I hope God
will be good to him, and will watch over him, and carry him safe through
dangers, and bring him back to us. Oh, I know God will be good to him.
We are both old now, and have nothing to live for but him." Again she
gave way to her grief, and as the tears flowed buried her face in her
hands.

"My dear, good friend," rejoined Mrs. Chapman, rising from her chair,
and placing her hand consolingly on Angeline's shoulder; "there is
nothing in the world to weep for. Nothing in the world. I would be proud
of a son who had courage and ambition enough to go on one of these