friendly services as lay in my power; but the memory of the repulse I had sustained still rankled in me. So I hesitated. One morning my two boys burst into the library with their eyes sparkling. "You know the old elm down the road?" cried one. "Yes." "The elm with the hang-bird's nest?" shrieked the other. "Yes, yes!" "Well, we both just climbed up, and there's three young ones in it!" Then I smiled to think that our new neighbors had got such a promising little family. In the fall of the year 1829, I took it into my head I'd go to Portland. I had heard a good deal about Portland, what a fine place it was, and how the folks got rich there proper fast; and that fall there was a couple of new papers come up to our place from there, called the "Portland Courier" and "Family Reader," and they told a good many queer kind of things about Portland, and one thing and another; and all at once it popped into my head, and I up and told father, and says,— "I am going to Portland, whether or no; and I'll see what this world is made of yet." Father stared a little at first, and said he was afraid I would get lost; but when he see I was bent upon it, he give it up, and he stepped to his chist, and opened the till, and took out a dollar, and he gave it to me; and says he,— "Jack, this is all I can do for you; but go and lead an honest life, and I believe I shall hear good of you yet." He turned and walked across the room, but I could see the tears start into his eyes. And mother sat down and had a hearty crying-spell. This made me feel rather bad for a minit or two, and I almost had a mind to give it up; and then again father's dream came into my mind, and I mustered up courage, and declared I'd go. So I tackled up the old horse, and packed in a load of axe-handles, and a few notions; and mother fried me some doughnuts, and put 'em into a box, along with some cheese, and sausages, and ropped me up another shirt, for I told her I didn't know how long I should be gone.
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