"Very well," returned Peter; "then let us commence and pledge ourselves not to smoke, or drink ale, for one month from this date. Every night we will lay away a quarter of a dollar, and at the end of the week we'll put our savings all together, and then go on our mission. What say you?" With one voice the other five joined in the plan. The novelty of the thing may have pleased them; but the real incentives lay deeper down in the natural goodness of their hearts. There was no written pledge, but they took a more speedy method. Peter laid his hand upon the table, and said: "Here's my hand, pledged to the work." "And mine too," cried Sam, laying his broad palm atop of Peter's. "And mine," "and mine," "and mine," chimed the rest, placing their hands atop of the other until the six right hands lay upon the table in a pyramid. "This is Tuesday," resumed Peter. "Will we meet next Saturday?" "Yes," answered Sam, "and call it a week. Let's throw in two days." And so the week was begun. On the next day, as Sam Green sat atop of his bench after dinner, he felt rather lost without his cigar, and for awhile he argued the question with himself, whether it wouldn't be just as well for him to put an extra quarter into his box and have his cigars as usual. But he remembered his pledge. He looked forward to Saturday, when he should find himself an ambassador of mercy to the sick and needy--and his resolution grew strong again. That was his last real hesitation, though it must be confessed he had some trials and hankerings. And so with the rest, they had some moments of doubt and mental warfare with appetite and habit, but conquered, and were true. Saturday came, and the six youths left their work at noon, having done more than enough overwork to make up for the loss of the half day. "Must have a time once in awhile, eh?" said Sam's boss, as the young man pointed to the work he had done, and informed him that he should not work the rest of the day. "Some sort of a time," replied Sam. "Very well, but you're too good a fellow to go very deep into dissipation." "I'll be up bright in the morning, sir;" and with this he left. The new Benevolent Society met at Walter Mason's tin-shop. Each took out his money and they had in all nine dollars, it being in thirty-six silver quarters. "Now," says Peter, "let's visit the three families we have taken under our charge. We'll go together, and expend the money as we see it is most needed. Let us go to Uncle Israel's first." So off they went to Uncle Israel Trask's. The old couple lived in a small hut at the edge of the village, which was reached by a narrow lane, and here the six philanthrophists found the old lady, who was now in her eightieth year, suffering with a severe attack of the rheumatism, while the old man sat crouched over the fire, shivering with cold. "Good day, good day, Uncle Israel."