"Oh, yes, I have nothing to complain of on that score."
"Then it appears to me that your loss is not serious. Your capital still remains."
"My capital?" repeated the young man.
"Yes; your strong arms, your education, your capacity to labor."
"But I shall have to begin over again."
"Beginning over again at your age, when, possibly, fifty years of life lie before you, is not such a serious matter. Were I in your situation,—and I am twice as old as you,—I should not thing of despairing. Don't you think it would be rather foolish for two thousand dollars, which you have been only six months in accumulating, to throw away fifty years, and all that you can make in that time, thereby bringing a life-long grief to your mother and sister?"
The calm, logical tone of the Scotchman had its effect.
"I see that I was about to add to one piece of folly another far greater," said the young man. "I don't know who you are, sir, but I heartily thank you and your son for saving my life."
"This is not my son, but my young friend, Thomas Nelson," said Ferguson. "I am not so fortunate as to have a son."
"Well, God bless you both, and good-night!"