Those of my readers who have read “The Canal Boy” will remember that before Gen. Garfield graduated from college he too was met by a similar temptation, in the shape of an offer which, if accepted, would have materially changed his course of life, and given him a comfortable obscurity in place of national renown. He was offered a school in Troy, N. Y., with a salary of one hundred and twenty-five dollars per month, while up to that time he had never earned but eighteen dollars per month and board. He declined after a hard struggle, for he too had been reared in poverty and still suffered from it.

And now a similar temptation had come to Daniel Webster.

He went home and thought the matter over. He felt that Mr. Gore’s advice was good, but how could he accept it? His father was old and in poor health. He had set his heart on Daniel’s accepting this place. A contrary decision would strike him like a thunderbolt. Moreover it would bring him home, and give his father the comfort of his society, as well as pecuniary prosperity.

It seemed a selfish thing to refuse, to show a lack of consideration for his father, and Daniel was a good son. I mention all these things to show that in this turning-point of his career Daniel had a hard decision to make. There was another circumstance to consider—his father was in present need of money.

Finally Daniel made up his mind. If he could borrow a sum of money sufficient to help his father, he would venture to refuse the clerkship.

He went to Mr. Joseph Taylor, a Boston acquaintance, and said to him abruptly, “Mr. Taylor, I want to borrow some money. I will pay you some time or other, but I can’t tell exactly when.”

“You can have as much as you want,” answered Mr. Taylor kindly.

“But,” said Daniel, “I want a good deal of money.”

“How much?” asked his friend, not seeming alarmed at his rash promise.

“Three or four hundred dollars,” was the reply, and this in the eyes of the young law student was a very large sum, though his ideas changed when money came in by thousands from wealthy clients, not many years afterwards.

“You shall have it,” said Mr. Taylor, and he counted out the money into the young man’s hands.

Daniel was elated with his success. He would not go home empty-handed, and this sum would soften the blow which his determination would bring to his father.

Now to get home and have it over as soon as possible! He hired a seat in a country sleigh which had come down to market, and was on the point of returning, for there was neither railroad nor stage to convey him to his home. It was a crisp winter day, and they glided over the snowy roads for many hours till they were beyond the New Hampshire line. Still mile after mile was traversed till the old home was reached.

Just at sunset Daniel reached his home. Through the window, even before he entered, he saw his father in his little room sitting in his arm-chair. The old man, worn out by a long life of hard labor, seemed very old and thin, but his eyes were as black and bright as ever. Daniel’s heart was touched, and he felt that the trial had come. It was no light thing to disappoint such a father.

As he entered the presence of his father Judge Webster looked up with a smile of gladness.

“Well, Daniel, we have got that office for you,” he said.

“Yes, father,” said Daniel a little nervously. “The gentlemen were very kind. I must go and thank them.”

“They gave it to you without my saying a word about it,” said Judge Webster complacently.

“I must go and see Judge Farrar, and tell him I am much obliged to him, father.”

Still the father suspected nothing of Daniel’s intention, though his son treated it more carelessly than he had anticipated. He had thought so much about it and come to look upon it as so desirable that it did not seem to him possible that his son could regard it in any other way, as indeed he would not but for Mr. Gore’s advice.

But at last the true meaning of Daniel’s indifference flashed upon him, and he looked at him earnestly.

He straightened himself up in his chair, and he regarded him intently.