"I shall send this by post, as I do not know of any opportunity, and do not think it best to wait for one."

"Your loving father,

"W. Landholm.

"Winthrop and Will."

"My dear boys,

"It is very late to-night, and I shall not have any time in the morning, so must scratch a word as well as I can tonight -- you know my fingers are not very well accustomed to handling the pen. It gives me the greatest pleasure I can have in this world when I hear that you are getting along so well -- except I could hear one other thing of you, -- and that would be a pleasure beyond anything in this world. Let us know everything you want -- and we will try to send it to you, and if we can't we will all want it together. -- We are all well -- Winifred mourns for you all the while, in spite of trying not to do it.

What the rest of us do is no matter. I shall send a box, if I can, before New Year, with some cakes and apples -- write us before that, in time, all you want.

Your mother."

This double letter, being duly put in the post according to Mr. Landholm's promise, in the course of time and the post came safe to the s.h.a.garack post-office; from whence it was drawn one evening by its owner, and carried to a little upper room where Rufus sat, or rather stood, at his books. There was not a great deal there beside Rufus and the books; a little iron stove looked as if it disdained to make anybody comfortable, and hinted that much persuasion was not tried with it; a bed was in one corner, and a deal table in the middle of the floor, at which Winthrop sat down and read his letters.

He was longer over them than was necessary to read them, by a good deal. So Rufus thought, and glanced at him sundry times, though he did not think fit to interrupt him. He lifted his head at last and pa.s.sing them over coolly to Rufus, drew _his_ book near and opened his dictionary. He did not look up while Rufus read, nor when after reading he began to walk with thoughtful large strides up and down the little room.

"Governor!" said Rufus suddenly and without looking at him, "sometimes I am half tempted to think I will take Mr. Haye's offer."

"Did he make you an offer?"

"He said what was near enough to it."

"What tempts you, Will?"

"Poverty. It is only, after all, taking a short road instead of a long one to the same end."

"The end of what?" said Winthrop.

"Of painstaking and struggling."

There was silence, during which Rufus continued his strides through the room, and the leaves of Winthrop's books ever and anon turned and rustled.

"What do you think of it?"

"Nothing."

"Why?"

"I don't believe in drinking of a roiled stream because it happens to be the first one you come to."

"Not if you are dry?"

"No, -- not unless everything else is, too."

"But merchandise is a very honourable pursuit," said Rufus, walking and studying the floor.

"Certainly. -- Twelve feet is a good growth for dogwood, isn't it?" said Winthrop gravely, looking up and meeting his cool grey eye with that of his brother.

Rufus first stared, and then answered, and then burst into a fit of laughter. Then he grew quite grave again and went on walking up and down.

"The fact is," he said a little while after, -- "I don't know exactly what I am fittest for."

"You would be fit for anything if you did," answered his brother.

"Why?"

"You would be an uncommonly wise man."

"_You_ might be that with very little trouble, for you are the fittest for everything of anybody I know."

Winthrop studied his books, and Rufus walked perseveringly.

"You hold to taking up law?"

"I will, when I begin it," said Winthrop.

"Where?"

"Where what?"

"Where will you take it up?"

"In Mannahatta."

"And then you will rise to the top of the tree!" said his brother half admiringly, half sadly.

"That I may catch a glimpse of you in the top of some other tree," said Winthrop.

"But this want of money is such a confounded drag!" said Rufus after a few minutes.

"Let it drag you up hill, then. A loaded arrow flies best against the wind."

"Winthrop, I wonder what you are made of!" said Rufus stopping short and looking at him and his books. "The toughest, the st.u.r.diest --"

But Winthrop lifted up his face and gave his brother one of those smiles, which were somewhat as if the st.u.r.dy young ash to which he likened him had of a sudden put forth its flowers and made one forget its strength in its beauty. Rufus stopped, and smiled a little himself.

"My choice would be engineering," he said doubtfully.

"Stick to your choice," said Winthrop.

"That's a very good business for making money," Rufus went on, beginning to walk again; -- "and there is a variety about it I should like."

"Are you in correspondence with Mr. Haye?"