“You’d have to go to Damon’s with the men, evenings, if you had no books,” the young woman suggested. Damon’s was the store where the post-office was kept; and there the male portion of the population were wont to congregate in the evening to talk politics, nonsense, and lewdness, according to circumstances. It was a motley crowd, whose appearance would have terrified Mrs. Garfield, could she have seen them; and yet her James was in worse company, for him, every evening, poring over those fascinating and corrupting books. He did not know his danger, and so his danger was greater. To the young woman’s suggestion James replied:

“I couldn’t go there.”

“Why?” she asked.

“I don’t like that sort of company.”

“It’s not very attractive, I think,” she conceded.

“My mother would be frightened to see me in such company.”

If James had only known, he might have said, with equal truth, perhaps, that his mother would be frightened to see him in the company of such books. But he had no thoughts in that direction. He had become infatuated over these mute, yet loquacious, companions.

When the family retired at night, James would take his light and book and go to his room, but not to bed. Twelve o’clock often found him reading, almost oblivious to the cold that pinched his flesh and made him shiver. But his young blood seemed to be warmed by the excitement and enthusiasm begotten by his reading.

One night he retired, excited and wakeful. As he lay musing, he said, within himself:

“I will see some of the world yet. I shan’t always follow this business.”

Then he turned over to invite sleep, but was still wakeful.

“A black-salter!” he continued. “It is not the sort of work for me. Can’t see much of the world, tied down here.”

He turned over again, restless and nervous; but sleep was chary.

“I should like to be a sailor, and see more of the world; go to other countries, and see the great cities; it’s splendid,” his mind said; and he was not sleepy at all.

“What’s the use of staying at home always, and seeing nothing, when the great world is open? I mean to try it some time.”

And so he went on discussing the matter within himself, and reasoning away many of the staid and valuable ideas that had kept him a noble boy.

“I wonder what mother will say to it? Women are always afraid, and want to keep their boys at home all the time. I s’pose she will make a terrible fuss about it; but I mean to see more of the world, somehow.”

Sleep finally came to his relief, and he dreamed of ships bearing him over the ocean to other lands, where fairy-like cities delighted his vision; and other enrapturing scenes, that exist only in dreams, made him thrice happy. It was quite evident now that Satan was opening the door of the future wide, instead of that Providence whose watch and care his good mother had invoked.