Sam would gladly have had his father carry the money which was to repay Mr. Bloodgood, and never been known as the procurer of it. But to this the kind parent would not consent. He felt, and truly too, that it would be a mark upon his son's early life, not soon obliterated: and he was willing to have himself forgotten, if the dear boy might but be strengthened in the path of honor and virtue. The next morning Sam was up with the early dawn, and busy with his daily routine, that he might be ready to go on his pleasing errand. Breakfast over, he dressed himself in his best blue suit, and with the money in his pocket and his parent's blessing, started off, his heart as full of happiness as it could well be. Thoughts of the dark scene which he had passed through, when kind friends, like angels of mercy, came to his aid, he could not repress, nor did he wish to; the darker _then_, the brighter _now_. How his heart beat with pleasure as he walked briskly on, and drew near to the humble abode of Billy Bloodgood--rough, to be sure, was the exterior, and the peculiar habits of its owner too visible in the strange confusion around the premises; but Sam thought only of his kind heart and ready hand in an hour of need. Things had not yet been put to rights at neighbor Bloodgood's, and as Sam entered the house, there was not only a confused state of pots and kettles, and relics of the early meal, but the good woman herself was all wrong somehow; she was in quite an undress, and moved about amid the domestic articles surrounding her, with that quick, jerky air, which generally denotes an unsettled state of the inner man or woman. Sam wondered why things did not break, they rang against each other so sharply. If he was somewhat surprised at this, he was much more so at sight of a stranger, seated near the door, but a little behind it, which circumstances prevented him from noticing before. He was a stranger, not only to Sam, but he must have been to all those parts, for he was like nothing seen in that region for many miles' circuit; his air and contour was that of a gentleman. Sam had already seen enough of the world to know that. He was quite a youth, probably not over nineteen years of age; his countenance manly, and rather stern at the first glance; but Sam thought, from a particular twist of the corner of his mouth, that he was more amused than vexed with the state of things around him. His form was slender, and his complexion pale, like one who had never yet been exposed to the wear and tear of life; his light brown hair was thrown carelessly back from his forehead, and displayed to great advantage that index of the mind. He arose almost immediately upon Sam's entering, and with his hat in hand, bowed to the mistress of the house, who cast but a sideling glance at him, and then stooped down to rattle some of the dishes, without, apparently, any other motive than to let him see that she was too busy to attend to _him_.