"At the same time," continued his father, "I am highly gratified that you have conducted yourself so well as to gain the good opinion of even the governor. I trust that you will continue to conduct yourself with propriety. At twenty-one you will save money enough to set up business for yourself, if your economy holds out."
"I think it will," responded Benjamin. "My wants are few, and so my expenses are small. And I like work as well as ever."
"There is one thing I hope you will avoid, Benjamin. You will, no doubt, be writing for the public press, as you did here. My advice is to avoid lampooning and libeling. You erred in that way here, and furnished occasion for just and severe criticism."
"We have not time to discuss that matter now," answered Benjamin; "but if I were to live my life over again, and edit the Courant in the same circumstances, I should repeat the same thing. But for that fight there would be a censorship over the press of Boston to-day."
"Possibly," rejoined his father; "but I think there is a wiser course.
You must live and learn."
"I regret exceedingly that James can not be reconciled to you," interrupted his mother. "He is indulging a very bad spirit, and my prayer is that he may see the folly of it, before you leave, and be at peace with you."
"I met him more than half way," replied Benjamin, "and he seemed to stand aloof all the more. Whenever he returns to reason he will find me ready and waiting to forget the past."
"It is so painful to see brothers disagree!" And a deep, doleful sigh escaped her heart as his mother said it.
Benjamin's separation from his parents was tender and affectionate. They scarcely expected to see his face again on this side of the River, and they presented him with several gifts as tokens of their undying love. With their sincere blessing upon him he turned away from the old home, where so many of his happiest hours had been spent, and, wiping unbidden tears from his eyes, found himself again out on the world's great highway alone, seeking his fortune.