"Grit Morris," said Jesse, scanning the envelope. "Who can it be from?"
The letter was postmarked Boston, and was addressed in a bold, business hand.
Grit opened the envelope, read it through hastily, and with a look of evident pleasure.
"What's it all about, Grit?" asked Jesse.
"Read it for yourself, Jesse," said the young boatman, handing the letter to his friend.
This was the letter:
"Dear Sir: I need a young person on whom I can rely to travel for me at the West. I don't know you personally, but you have been recommended to me as likely to suit my purpose. I am willing to pay twelve dollars per week and traveling expenses. If this will suit your views, come to Boston at once, and call upon me at my private residence, No. ——, Essex Street.
"Yours truly,
"Solomon Weaver."
"What are you going to do about it, Grit?" asked Jesse, when he had finished reading the letter.
"I shall go to Boston to-morrow morning," answered Grit promptly.