father was a millionaire, and his ships, richly laden, ploughed
many a sea.

By the side of Isabel Sawtelle sat a young man with a clear,
beautiful eye, and a massive brow.

"I must go," he sed, "the foreman will wonder at my absence."

"The FOREMAN?" asked Isabel in a tone of surprise.

"Yes, the foreman of the shop where I work."

"Foreman--shop--WORK! What! do YOU work."

"Aye, Miss Sawtelle! I am a cooper!" and his eyes flashed with
honest pride.

"What's that?" she asked; "it is something about barrels, isn't
it!"

"It is!" he said, with a flashing nostril. "And hogsheads."

"Then go!" she said in a tone of disdain--"go AWAY!"

"Ha!" he cried, "you spurn me, then, because I am a mechanic.
Well, be it so! though the time will come, Isabel Sawtelle," he
added, and nothing could exceed his looks at this moment--"when
you will bitterly remember the cooper you now so cruelly cast
off? FAREWELL!"