for them, that is just one dollar! A great day's work for a boy-carpenter! Now, you count, and I'll count." And he proceeded to count out one hundred cents, making quite a little pile of coin when the dollar, all in cents, was ready for James' pocket.

Reader. We might as well stop here as to proceed further with the history of that day's labor. It would be quite impossible to describe James' feelings to you, as he pocketed the one hundred cents. and started for home. That old jacket never covered just such a breast as it did then. If we could only turn that bosom inside out, and have a full view of the boy's heart, we should learn what no writer can ever describe. It was a man's heart in a boy's breast. There was not room for it under the jacket. It swelled with inexpressible emotions, as groundswells sometimes lift the ocean higher than usual. One hundred cents, all in one day!" The more he thought of it on his way home the prouder grew the occasion. "Seventy-five days like that would yield him as much as Thomas brought from Michigan!" The thought was too great for belief. That would not be half so long as Thomas was gone, and away from home, too. And so he thought and pondered, and pondered and thought, on his way home, his boyhood putting on manhood in more than one respect. He was "Great Heart," bare-footed and in jean trousers.

Whether James intended to ape Thomas or not, we cannot say; but, on reaching home, he unloaded the coppers into his mother's lap, saying,

"Yours, mother."

"All that, James?"

"One hundred cents," was James' reply. "What! earned a dollar to-day?"

"Yes; I planed a hundred boards."

By this time Mrs. Garfield became as dumb as she was over the seventy-five dollars that Thomas brought to her. There was some trouble in her throat, and the power of speech left her. She could not tell what she thought, nor how she felt. If her eldest son had made her cry with kindness, the youngest one was doing the best he could to imitate his example. The little son could be handled as the big one could not be, and so the dear, good mother folded him to her breast, as the only way to tell her love when the tongue was voiceless.

AMES' job at Treat's carpenter-shop introduced him into further business in that line. The winter school, however, intervened, and James attended it without the loss of a single day. The day after the school closed, Mr. Treat called.

"I'm after James," said he to Mrs. Garfield. "I have a barn to build for Mr. Boynton, and can give him a job before his farm-work begins."

"That will suit him," replied Mrs. Garfield. "I think he likes that kind of work better than farming." Just then James made his appearance.

"Young man, I'm after you," said Mr. Treat to him.

"For what?" asked James.
"Another job of work."
"Planing boards?"

"No. Better than that."
"What?"