near Washington Square, where Amos Cobb always
stayed when he came to New York, and so on down
to its own home on Broadway, its history had been
one long struggle for recognition and support.

This announcement, bitter enough as it was to
Oliver, was followed by another even more startling,
when he reached the office next day, and Mr. Slade
called him into his private room.

"Mr. Horn," said his employer, motioning Oliver
to a seat and drawing his chair close beside him so
that he could lay his hand upon the young man's
knee, "I am very sorry to tell you that after the first
of June we shall be obliged to lay you off. It is not
because we are dissatisfied with your services, for you
have been a faithful clerk, and we all like you and
wish you could stay, but the fact is if this repudiation
goes on we will all be ruined. I am not going
to discharge you; I'm only going to give you a holiday
for a few months. Then, if the war-scare blows
over we want you back again. I appreciate that this
has come as suddenly upon you as it has upon us, and
I hope you will not feel offended when, in addition
to your salary, I hand you the firm's check for an
extra amount. You must not look upon it as a gift,
for you have earned every cent of it."

These two calamities were duly reported in a ten-
page letter to his mother by our young hero, sitting