"I start to-morrow for St. Joseph, in Missouri, going by way of St. Louis. Mr. Donald Ferguson, a middle-aged Scotchman, is my companion. A younger and livelier companion might prove more agreeable, but perhaps not so safe. Mr. Ferguson is old enough to be my father, and I shall be guided by his judgment where my own is at fault. He is very frugal, as I believe his countrymen generally are, and that, of course, just suits me. I don't know how long I shall be in reaching St. Joseph, but I shall write you once or twice on the way. Give my love to father, Sarah, Walter, and Harry, and keep a great deal for yourself.
"Your loving son,
"Tom."
"Tom is growing manly, Mary," said Mark Nelson to his wife. "It's doing him good to see a little of the world."
"I suppose it is, Mark," said his wife; "but the more I think of it the more I feel that he is very young to undertake such a long journey alone."
"He is young, but it will make a man of him."
"He must be having a tip-top time," said Walter; "I wish I were with him."
"You would be more of a hindrance than a help to him, Walter," said Mark Nelson.
"You are only a child, you know," said Sarah, in an elder-sister tone.
"What do you call yourself?" retorted Walter. "You are only two years older than I am."