sight, that all hope of seeing any shore in that quarter had been banished from every breastbut his own. One night, however-the memorable night of the 15th of October, 1492-as the admiral sat on the poop of the 'Santa Maria' peering into the darkness itself, he thought he beheld moving lights in the distance; then the crew were called up to watch them, and eye after eye began to see the same bright fiery specks wandering about in the haze as the admiral himself; until, at length, doubt grew into conviction, and a wild exulting cry of Land! land!' arose from every voice.

"And when the morning dawned, and the eyes of Columbus gazed upon that strange coast, crimsoned over and gilt with the rays of the rising sun, who shall describe the passions that crowded in his bosom? who shall tell the honest pride he felt at the power of the will which had led him to summon, into existence as it were, the very land before him? or how even he himself marveled over that stanch fortitude of purpose which had sustained him through years of trial to such an end ?"

"It was, then," said the boy, half stricken down with wonder at the thought, now that he could grasp it in all its grandeur, "the will of Columbus that gave America to us."

"It was, lad, the will of the heroic Genoese sailor, expressing the will of God; and if it was the will of a simple mariner that first made known this enormous continent-this new world, as we call it why, it was merely the same inflexible resolution that first peopled it with the very race that now possesses it."

"Indeed!" cried the boy, in greater amazement than ever.

"Yes, Ben," was the answer. "The same iron

determination was in the souls of the Pilgrim Fathers as in that of Columbus himself; but theirs was one of a holier nature. They sought these lands neither quickened by a life of adventure nor stirred by the lust of riches. They had merely one immovable purpose in their heart to worship the Almighty after the dictates of their own conscience-and it was this that led the pious band to quit the shores of the Humber in the old country; this that sustained them for years as exiles in Holland; and this which ultimately bore them across the Atlantic in the 'Speedwell' and the 'Mayflower,' and gave them strength to fight through the terrors of the first winter here in their adopted father-land."

"How strange!" exclaimed the musing lad; "will discovered the land, and will peopled it."

"Yes, Benjamin; it was to make you comprehend the power of this same will in man that I brought you out here to-day. I wanted to let you see almost with a bird's eye the mighty territory that has been created by it. The plains, which a few years back were mere wild and halfbarren hunting-grounds possessed by savages, are now studded with large and noble towns-the fields striped with roads and belted with canals -the coast pierced with harbors—the land rich with vegetation-the cities busy with factories— the havens bristling with shipping-ay, and all called into existence by the indomitable will of the one man who originally discovered the country, and that of the conscientious band who afterward came from England to make a home of it. It was the will of the Almighty that first summoned the land out of the water, lad; and it is the same God-like quality in man-the great creative and heroic faculty-that changes barren plains into fertile fields, and builds up cities in the wilderness."

CHAPTER X.

HOW TO MAKE WORK PLEASANT AND PROFITABLE.

It was now time for the uncle and nephew to think about returning to Boston harbor. They had promised to be home to a late dinner at two; but the promise had been made irrespective of the wind and the tide, and the couple were then some miles out at sea, without a breath of wind strong enough to waft a soap-bubble through the air, and with a strong ebb current drifting them farther from land.

The head of the vessel was at length, by dint of sculling, brought round to the shore, but still the sail hung down as limp and straight as the feathers of barn-door fowls after a heavy shower, and even the paper that the uncle threw overboard (as he opened the packet of bread and meat they had brought with them) floated perpetually by the ship's side, as motionless as the pennant at the mast-head.

"Heyday, my man, we seem to be in a pretty fix here," cried Uncle Benjamin, as he munched the bread and beef, while he kept his eyes riveted on the piece of the old "Boston Gazette" swimming beside them in the water. "What do you say, my little captain-what's to be done? Remember, I'm in your hands, youngster."

"There's nothing to be done that I see, uncle," returned the youth, as he smiled with delight at the idea of being promoted to the captaincy of the vessel "nothing but to wait out here patiently till sundown, and then a breeze will spring G

YOUNG BENJAMIN FRANKLIN.

up, most likely; it generally does, you know, at
that time. But I thought it 'ud be so, to tell you
the truth, while you were talking; and I should
have whistled for a wind long ago, but I fancied
you might think I wasn't attending. It's impos-
sible to pull back with this heavy tide against us;
and if you look out to sea, uncle, there isn't a puff
of wind to be seen coming up along the water
any where;" and as he said the words the little
monkey put his hand up before his brows, in im-
itation of his old sailor friends, and looked under
them in all directions, to observe whether he
could distinguish in the distance that ruffling of
the glassy surface of the water which marks the
approach of a breeze in a calm.

"Well, captain, what must be must," said the godfather, calmly resigning himself with all the gusto of a philosopher at once to the position and the victuals. "There's no use railing against the wind, you know, and it's much better having to whistle for a breeze than a dinner, I can tell you. So come, lad, while you fall foul of the meat and the cider, I can be treating you to a little snack of worldly philosophy by way of salt to the food; and so, you see, you can be digesting your dinner and your duty in life both at the same time."

The youngster proceeded to carry out his uncle's order in good earnest, for the sea-trip had whetted his bodily appetite as much as the story of Columbus had sharpened the edge of his wits; so, pulling out his clasp-knife, he fell to devouring the buffalo hump and the old man's discourse almost with equal heartiness.

"Well, my son," proceeded the elder Benjamin, "I have shown you the power of the will in great things, and now I want to point out to you the use of it in what the world calls 'little things.'

I have made you understand, I think, that the prime necessity of life is labor. But labor is naturally irksome to us. You remember, boy, it was the primeval curse inflicted upon man.'

"So it was!" exclaimed the lad, in haste to let his uncle see that he knew well to what he referred. "In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread,' were the words, uncle."

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Good, good, my son. I'll make a fine, upright man of you before I have done, that I will,” added the delighted godfather. "But labor, though naturally irksome and painful, still admits, like hunger itself, of being made a source of pleasure to us."

"How can that be ?" the nephew inquired.

"Well, Ben," the uncle went on, "there are three means—and only three, so far as I know— by which work may be rendered more or less delightful to all men. The first of these means is variety; the second, habit; and the third, purpose, or object."

"I don't understand you, uncle," was all the boy said.

"You know, my little man," the other went on, "that as it is hard and difficult to remain at the same occupation for any length of time, so does it become a matter of mere recreation to shift from one employment to another as soon as we grow tired of what we have been previously doing. Child's play is merely labor made easy, and what boys call amusement is often very hard work. But it is the change of occupation that makes even the severest muscular exercise a matter of sport to youth. A whole life of foot-ball, however, or fifty years at leap-frog, would be far more fatiguing, I can tell you, than the hewing of wood or the drawing of water. And even this boating, which is so delightful to you, lad, when

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