you leave? long time."

We shall not see you again in a very

"Don't make such a baby of me, mother," he replied, pushing her aside, and rushing out.

"God bless you my son; be a good boy," said she.

"Pug and Tow, good by," said Joe, springing upon the top of the stagecoach. The driver snapped his whip and the horses went off at full speed.

Mrs. Brandon and the girls went back into their little parlour and sat down and wept together right heartily. Ah, how little do men know of the tenderness of woman's affection! Although Joseph Brandon had tyrannized over his mother and sisters, and been a continual trouble to them, no sooner had he left them than they forgot all his faults, and loved him dearly, as a son and brother.

Joe's first letter home will give an account of his journey. It was as follows:

DEAR MOTHER:

You told me to write to you as soon I could. I only arrived yesterday.

I met with a little bit of an accident on the

road. There was a big fellow on the top of the coach who took it into his head to be very saucy to me. He was a travelling pedler, or some such sort of thing, with his box of jewelry, spectacles, &c., who had got tired of trudging, and had coaxed the driver to give him a lift for a mile or

two.

I would not bear the vulgar fellow's impertinence, so I threw his box of gimcracks into the road. He made a mighty fuss about it, and the driver stopped for him to pick it up. When he opened it, the glasses of some of the spectacles were broken, and several of the crystals to his pewter watches. Would you believe it, he threatened to sue my parents? But I took out five dollars and gave him, telling him another time to mind who he was saucy to. You know, mother, after what had happened, I wanted him to know that he had insulted a gentleman. I do n't believe his whole pedler-concern was worth five dollars, for he looked at the money with surprise, and all the people in the coach seemed to feel that I was somebody.

You know, mother, that was all the money I had with me, and therefore I expect by return of mail that you will send me some more.

I do n't know yet how I shall like the school. Tell Pug that there is a boy in our school whose nose has just such a turn up as hers, and there are Tow-heads in abundance.

From your affectionate son,

JOSEPH BRANDON.

The widow had given her son the five dollars for spending money, for the whole term. She had not a dollar left in her own purse. What could be done? The girls read the letter.

66

66 I would not send him a fourpence," said Susan. Extravagant fellow ! and so foolish, too, to give five dollars to a pedler to show him he was a gentleman! Mother, let him go without money a while, till he knows better how to use it."

But," said Fanny, whose affectionate disposition ever led her to self-sacrificing kindness,"but, mother, he may want something that we have not thought of; I will send him the gold piece that Aunt Mary gave me last Christmas."

"No, my dear child," quickly replied Mrs. Brandon, 66 you ought not do to that. Poor fellow, I do not know what will happen if he should need any thing among strangers."

"He shall have it, he shall have it," exclaimed Fanny.

"A part of it, my child," said Mrs. Brandon. "I am sorry, indeed, to have your dear aunt's gift changed; but if you will lend it to Joseph, Mr. Fuller, the grocer, will change it for you."

Fanny's sun-bonnet was on in a moment, and she flitted, like a bird, across the street with the gold piece, and soon returned with a two-dollar bill and a three.

"Send him the three," said Fanny.

"The two, mother, the two, " said Susan; "Joe is a mean fellow, and I do not doubt that he insulted the man first."

"I will send him the two," said the widow, and she inclosed it in the following

LETTER.

MY DEAR JOSEPH:

It is with deep regret that I am compelled to blame you, yet much to blame you certainly

are.

Let me tell you, in the first place, that I had no money to send you; the inclosed is the gift of dear little Fanny, who changed her aunt's present, the favorite gold-piece, that she might be able to aid you.

And you wish to be a gentleman, Joseph.

Was it like one to get into a quarrel with the pedler? No; it was much more like a swaggering bully. A true gentleman is quiet, unobtrusive, and, as the very name implies, gentle. I know that boys of your age very generally suppose that noisy, dashing manners mark the gentleman; and consider a mild, peaceable deportment as girlish in the extreme.

I have no doubt that the famous Bayard, the chevalier sans peur et sans reproche, had very amiable and delicately gentle manners, although he was the bravest of the brave.

Sir Philip Sidney, who lived in the reign of Elizabeth of England, was a man of remarkable bravery, as well as a perfect gentleman; it was said that his life was poetry in action. Do you suppose that he had the bold, swaggering manners that you admire? I imagine them resembling sweet music,― perfect harmony,—soothing and exalting to the feelings.

Our own Washington, too, with his noble heroism, his indomitable spirit,-how calm and quiet were his manners! What simple, natural dignity, with the refinement and chivalrous politeness of a gentleman! A model for every American boy.