THAT portion of the letter which Don read was as follows:—

“And now I come to the matter about which I sat down to write to you. It relates to my two boys, Clarence and Marshall—more particularly to the first. I am very anxious to remove them both from the temptations to which they are exposed in this big city. Since we returned from Europe they have been a source of constant anxiety to their mother and myself. The first thing they did was to make acquaintances and friends among those I should not have chosen for their companions, if I had had the power of selection in my own hands. Being completely engrossed in the cares of business, I could not give the attention to their training that I ought to have done; and the first thing that brought me to a sense of my duty and my neglect in this matter, was the visit of a police officer, who called at my[Pg 106] office, and informed me that Clarence had been arrested in a saloon for engaging in a brawl over a game of cards——”

“Gracious!” gasped Bert.

“O, he’s a nice bird,” said Don, in great disgust. “And that isn’t the worst of it. He is untruthful and dishonest. His father doesn’t say so, but you can gain that idea from the language he uses. Listen to this:—

    “‘For engaging in a brawl over a game of cards, and that he would be held until his examination came off, unless I was willing to go his bail.’”

    “What does that mean?”

    “It means that if his father did not give bonds for his appearance when he was wanted, he would be put into a cell and locked up.”

    “I got him out of the scrape,” the letter went on, “and when I came to inquire into his past life I found that his record was not such an one as a father could be proud of. I took him out of school and placed him in my office where he still is; but I fear I have thrown him directly in the way of temptation instead of taking him out of it. He has begun to develop traits which I did not suppose he possessed, and which lead me to distrust his every word and[Pg 107] act. I cannot put the least faith in him. He cares for nothing in the world but money, and when he gets it, it goes for cigars, lager beer and clothes. Marshall is not very badly contaminated as yet, but he is so easily influenced that I fear for his future, unless he is speedily removed from these surroundings. Now, can you take these two boys and take care of them for the winter, or until I can make some permanent arrangements for them? If I had had my way, I should have sent Clarence to sea six months ago, for I believe that a little wholesome discipline would make a great change in him; but his mother will not listen to it. Something, however, must be done at once. They are both worth saving, and I hope that an acquaintance with Don and Bert, who, I am told, are all that sons should be (Don blushed when he read this, for he could not forget that wrong act that had resulted in his expulsion from the academy), and daily intercourse with them will show my boys that there is something attractive in an upright, honorable life.”

This was all. The general’s brother was a man of few words, and as this was a subject he did not like to dwell upon, he hurried through with it as[Pg 108] quickly as possible. He evidently wanted that the general should know just what sort of boys he would open his doors to, if he agreed to accept the responsibility urged upon him, but, at the same time, he was anxious that the delinquents should appear in as favorable a light as possible, and so did not say more than he thought to be absolutely necessary.

“Well, I am sorry they are coming,” said Bert, as Don folded the letter and placed it in the envelope.

“So am I,” said Don.

“The idea of a great big, hulking, beer-drinking, tobacco-smoking, and card-playing boy loafing about our house,” continued Bert, betrayed by his excitement into using stronger language than he generally employed, and thinking of Godfrey Evans as he spoke. “I wonder how he became so far gone before his parents found it out!”

“So did I—but father explained it to me—or rather to mother, and I overheard it. He says Uncle Robert sees but little of his family on any day except Sundays. He leaves home early in the morning, and does not return again until nine or ten o’clock at night. The management of the boys is left entirely to their mother, who doesn’t care what they do, so long as they keep out of the way and don’t trouble[Pg 109] her. As one can’t see to them, and the other won’t, they have been entirely neglected.”

“And this letter has been here a week and we never knew it,” said Bert.

“Yes, and a good deal longer than that,” said Don; “long enough for the matter to be considered, a favorable answer to be returned, and a second letter to be received from Uncle Bob. That letter states that the boys left Cincinnati on the Emma Deane; and father has just learned from Mr. Jones that she is due at our landing some time to-night or early to-morrow morning.”

Bert was sorry that the new-comers were expected so soon. He had hoped to have a week or two in which to think about them, and make up his mind how he would act after they arrived. Although these cousins were the sons of their father’s only brother, they were utter strangers to Don and Bert. Their parents said they had seen them once, but as they were only three years old at the time, they could not be expected to remember much about them. Since then Clarence and Marshall had lived altogether in Europe, and Don and Bert had not heard from them on an average of once a year.

“I too am sorry that they are coming so soon,”[Pg 110] said Don, who could tell by the expression of Bert’s face what was passing in his mind. “You see now why your idea of a trip to Coldwater must be given up, at least until we know more about our expected friends. At first father thought he would not say anything to us about the contents of this letter, for he did not want to prejudice us against Clarence and Marshall; but afterward he decided that we ought to know what sort of fellows they are, so that we may be on our guard. We are going to have a long talk about it this evening.”

And they did, and the whole family was present. It was a kind of council in which the matter was thoroughly discussed, and plans laid for the reception of the expected visitors. The general explained why he did not feel at liberty to refuse his brother’s request—this being a private matter is something in which we have no interest—and urged upon his boys the necessity of regulating their own conduct, so that Clarence and his brother might see that there was more happiness, and much more respectability in a sober, well-regulated course of life, than in the career upon which they seemed to have entered. The new-comers, he was sorry to say, had a great many bad habits, and their father hoped that by sending them[Pg 111] into the country for a season they might forget some of them, and by being brought under better influences, be finally led to see the folly of them and induced to abandon them altogether. One thing was certain, the general said: there was no dram-shop in the neighborhood, not even at the landing, and beer-drinking and card-playing were two practices that Clarence would have to forego so long as he remained in that part of the country. Tobacco was plenty, but it was not at all likely that a boy who had been in the habit of buying cigars worth ten and perhaps twenty-five cents apiece, would stoop to a cob-pipe and plug “Varginy.” Besides he was to have no money, so his father said, not a cent; and taking it altogether, it seemed as if Clarence must turn over a new leaf while he was under his uncle’s roof, whether he wanted to do so or not.

In regard to Marshall, the younger brother, the general had not much to say, for his father had scarcely mentioned him in his letters. But he inferred that he was following in the footsteps of Clarence, and that, being easily led in any direction, there might be some hope for him if he were taken in hand at once.

The unlooked-for intrusion of these discordant[Pg 112] elements upon their quiet, happy family circle, afforded the boys something to talk about that night, and kept them awake long after they ought to have been asleep. Bert did not take it quite so much to heart after the first surprise was over. Indeed he hoped that the visit might prove both pleasant and profitable to all concerned. Clarence and Marshall were his cousins, and Bert had a warm place in his heart for them, even if they were not just such boys as he would have chosen for his companions. Don, on the other hand, took but little pains to conceal the annoyance he felt. Cousin or no cousin, he did not want such a companion as he knew Clarence would prove to be, and he hoped his uncle Robert would hurry and make up his mind to something, so that his visit might be brought to an end as speedily as possible. The expected visitors broke in on his arrangements in a way he did not like. It brought his school term to an end a week sooner than it ought to have been ended. Of course it would not be polite to leave Clarence and Marshall to themselves when they arrived, and in order to give Don and Bert an opportunity to make things pleasant for them, the general decided that the school should close at once.

[Pg 113]Morning came at last, and immediately after breakfast the heavy, old-fashioned family carriage was drawn to the door by a span of splendid iron-gray horses, the tutor’s trunk was strapped on behind, and he, in company with the general and his two boys, stepped in, and the carriage was driven to the landing. Just as they arrived there, a steamer appeared in the bend, heading up the river. The general signalled to her with his handkerchief, and she landed, took the tutor and his luggage aboard, and continued on her way. The boys watched her in silence until she disappeared around the point. They had grown to like their tutor, and were sorry to see him go; but it was some consolation to them to know that the separation would not be a long one.

The Gray Eagle—that was the name of the steamer that took the tutor away—having disappeared, the boys turned their attention to a thick cloud of smoke farther up the river, and behind a point which jutted out from the right bank. Silas Jones, who was at the landing and expecting goods by the first steamer from Memphis, told the general that the Gray Eagle was the only packet that had gone up the river since midnight, so the boys knew that the smoke they were looking at must come from[Pg 114] the chimneys of some steamer bound to New Orleans. They watched the cloud as it moved slowly along above the trees, and finally at the end of an hour a side-wheel steamer suddenly made her appearance in the bend.

“That’s the Emmy Deane,” said a well-known voice.

The boys turned and saw Godfrey Evans standing close behind them. He was barefooted as usual, and carried his rifle on his shoulder.

“How do you know it is the Emma Deane?” asked Don.

“Ah! mornin’, Mr. Don,” exclaimed Godfrey. “Proud to see ye, sar. How’s all the folks? Mine is only jest tol’able, thank ye, ’ceptin’ the ole woman, an’ she’s poorly. How do I know that’s the Emmy Deane? Kase I know it is, an’ I can tell a’most every boat on the river that stops here, too. When she whistles, ye’ll see she’s got four—two high up an’ two low down. Mr. Don,” added Godfrey, lowering his voice, “can I see ye jest a minute, please, sar?”

Don, wondering what business Godfrey could have with him, which was of so private a nature that it could not be spoken of in the hearing of his father[Pg 115] and brother, drew off on one side, and the man, after clearing his throat, continued:

“We’re powerful poor folks, Mr. Don, an’ the ole woman she was tuk down with the fever ’n’ ager last night, an’ done shook the roof clean off’n the house; an’ Dave, he hain’t got a shoe to bless hisself with.”

“Well,” said Don, when Godfrey paused and looked at him.

“Wal, Dave, he wants me to ax ye, Mr. Don, please sar, would ye mind givin’ him five dollars this mornin’, sar, kase ye know ye promised him ten fur breakin’ that pinter pup, an’ we’re powerful poor folks, ye know.”

“Certainly I’ll give it to him,” replied Don, quickly. “He can have it at any time for the asking. I would have given it to him yesterday if I had known that he wanted it.”

“Wal, he didn’t want it yesterday, an’ he wouldn’t a wanted it to-day, only the ole woman’s got the fever ’n’ ager, an’ we’s so poor. He told me to ax ye would ye give it to me, an’ I’ll give it to him, please, sar.”

Don readily consented to this. He produced his pocket-book and handed the five dollars to Godfrey,[Pg 116] who clutched the money and made off with it in such haste that Don looked at him in great surprise.

“What did he want of you?” asked Bert, when his brother came back to the carriage.

“He wanted some of the money I promised David for breaking that pointer,” was the reply.

“O, that reminds me,” said Bert. “How much did you give him?”

“I gave him half of it.”

“And I gave him the other half yesterday, so David is paid up in full, and you owe mother five dollars. Dan dunned me, and I borrowed the money to give him. He came over to see you, but as you were not at home, I acted in your place. Was that right?”

“Perfectly. I told David he could have the money whenever he wanted it. I am somewhat surprised, though, for I understood him to say that he intended to keep some of it to send off those quails with.”

All this while the steamer had been approaching the landing, and the nearer she came, the more certain did the people, who were standing around, declare themselves to be that it was the Emma Deane. At last she whistled, and there proved to be “two high up and two low down;” in other words, there were[Pg 117] four whistles, and being attached to the same steam-pipe, of course they all sounded at once—two uttering notes high up on the musical scale, and the others emitting a deep bass. Then all doubts, if any remained, were cleared away. She was the Emma Deane, and she was going to land. This she did a few minutes afterward. The moment her bow touched the shore, a deck-hand sprang out with a line which he made fast to a convenient tree; a staging was pushed ashore, and the crew began bringing out the goods Silas Jones was expecting from Memphis. The boys ran their eyes over the passengers who were crowded on her boiler-deck, while the general at once made his way on board to hunt up his nephews. He returned about five minutes later, followed by two gentlemanly-looking youths, and these in turn were followed by a negro porter who carried a heavy trunk on his shoulder.

It is hard to tell just what sort of fellows Don expected to see, but it was plain from the expression on his face, and the manner in which he passed through the ceremony of introduction, that he was surprised, to say the least; while Bert’s bewilderment was too palpable to escape notice. The latter knew but little of the world, and had somehow got it into[Pg 118] his head that vices of every description came in shapes so easy to be recognised, that any one would know them. When he heard that his cousin Clarence was in the habit of using tobacco and playing cards, he put him down as a lazy, good-for-nothing fellow, much of the same stamp as Godfrey Evans; but here was a dashing youth, dressed in the latest fashion, who looked as though he might know a thing or two, and who conducted himself in an easy, off-hand manner, that, to diffident little Bert, was perfectly charming. He resembled Godfrey Evans in about the same degree that his own father did. He appeared to be as much at ease as though he had come among friends with whom he had long been acquainted, and his younger brother, Marshall, was not a whit behind him in this respect; while Bert could not say a word in response to their polite and cordial greeting, and even Don, who was usually self-possessed, hesitated and blushed and looked as embarrassed as though he had been caught in some act of mischief.

The introduction being over, the trunk was strapped in its place behind the carriage, our party all got in, and Don picked up the reins and drove homeward. On the way Don and Bert had leisure to collect their wits a little, and while doing their part toward maintaining[Pg 119] the conversation that followed, devoted themselves principally to making a mental estimate of their visitors—a proceeding on their part which was closely imitated by Clarence and Marshall. What results they arrived at perhaps we shall see by and by.

Clarence would have attracted attention almost anywhere. He was a handsome fellow, and the ease and readiness with which he expressed himself in conversation, astonished Don, who was himself blessed with more than an ordinary command of language. He described with great fluency and animation several interesting and amusing incidents that had fallen under his notice during the journey from Cincinnati, and seemed to be so well posted in every subject that came up for discussion, and yet so modest, that Don began to accuse himself of having been guilty of a very ungenerous act, in that he had allowed himself to become prejudiced against his cousin before he saw him. He told himself that he would have in him a most agreeable companion, and one from whom he could learn something.

Bert formed nearly the same opinion of Marshall. These two sat on the back seat while the rest of the party occupied the one in front, and being left in a[Pg 120] great measure to themselves, imagined by the time they reached home, that they had had opportunity to become well acquainted. They found out not a few of each other’s likes and dislikes, and were both pleased to learn that they had many ideas in common. Marshall liked to fish and hunt occasionally, but he liked a game of chess or checkers better, and cards and billiards better than anything. He opened his eyes when he learned that Bert had never seen a billiard table, and that he did not know one card from another. He, Marshall, had been accustomed to these things all his life, he said, but he thought he could get on very well without them. His mother wanted him to give them up, and he was going to do it to please her. He seemed to think a good deal of his mother, and Bert told himself that that was a redeeming trait, and would do much toward bringing him out all right in the end.

The party reached home in due time, and found Mrs. Gordon and her daughters waiting to receive them. The visitors were cordially welcomed, and after a short visit in the parlor, were shown to their room and left to themselves. As soon as Clarence had closed and locked the door, he threw himself into[Pg 121] the nearest chair with the air of one who was badly bored and utterly disgusted.

“How do you like it as far as you have gone?” asked Marshall.

“I don’t like it at all,” was the reply; “and it has gone about as far as it will with me, too. If the old man thinks I am going to vegetate down here for the next six months, he is badly mistaken. I won’t do it to please anybody.”

“You can’t help yourself,” said his brother.

“I can’t! I’ll show you that I can. I’ll write a letter to mother this very night, and tell her that I want money enough to take me home.”

“O, of course that will bring it,” said Marshall, with a laugh which said that he thought it would not. “You know what father said the last thing before we left, don’t you—that we need not write for money, because we couldn’t have a cent?”

“Yes, I know, but I’ll get it, all the same. See there,” said Clarence, exhibiting almost a handful of small change.

“Where did you get that?” demanded his brother.

“Mother gave it to me just before we left home. She said that I might want some spending money, and hinted that when this was gone, I knew where I[Pg 122] could get more. I’ll ask for more at once; and if it doesn’t come, I’ll drop a line to mother telling her that if she wants to see me again, she had better be doing something. That always wakes her up!”

“It has had the desired effect so far, I admit,” said Marshall. “But suppose father should get hold of one of those threatening letters, and should write back to you: ‘My dear Clarence: You have talked this way often enough. You shan’t have a cent.’ What would you do then?”

“Well, in the first place, there is no danger that my letters will ever fall into his hands, for mother takes precious good care to put them in the grate as soon as she reads them; and in the next place, I’d make the old man repent such an act the longest day he lived. I’d clear out, and he’d never see me again!”

“O, nonsense!” exclaimed Marshall, tucking up his sleeves preparatory to plunging his hands into the wash-bowl. “You are not the one to cut loose from a comfortable home and go out into the world to make your own living, as long as you can avoid it. You like your ease altogether too well for that. Tell us some other funny story, please.”

“There is no funny story about this. I am in[Pg 123] earnest, and you’ll see if I don’t get the money in less than two weeks. I can’t live down here in this wilderness—no billiards, no theatres, no nothing that’s interesting. How is one to kill time, I wonder?”

“You must read, and hunt, and fish, and ride on horseback,” replied Marshall, in a tone of voice that would have made Bert open his eyes if he could have heard it. “That is the way our worthy cousins put in their leisure moments.”

“They must find it highly entertaining. I should expect it of them. Did you ever see two such country bumpkins? Wouldn’t they cut a pretty figure in the city? Why, when we were introduced to them they were as dumb as clams.”

“Yes; but you’d better take advice now for once in your life, and be very careful of your language and your behavior when you are in the presence of those same country bumpkins. That Don is pretty broad-shouldered, and I notice he’s got a grip like a young blacksmith. I found that out when I shook hands with him. If you are as tyrannical and overbearing with him as you are with me sometimes, you may get yourself into business.”

Just then the ringing of a bell in the hall brought[Pg 124] Clarence to his feet. “What’s that for, I wonder?” he exclaimed.

“Dinner, most likely.”

“Dinner at twelve!” said Clarence, glancing at his watch. “And supper at six and bed at half-past eight, I suppose!”

“Probably; and what will trouble you still more, breakfast at six every morning,” said Marshall. “You can’t lie in bed here till ten or eleven o’clock and then have breakfast sent up to you.”

Clarence said something more about “country bumpkins,” repeated the resolution he had so suddenly formed that his sojourn under his uncle’s roof should be a very short one, and then made all haste to get ready for dinner.