One of the boys once saw a velocipede in a Newark store that he thought he wanted, and began to save his money for that purpose. As I recollect it, the machine was to cost $12. In the meantime the father saw one in New York for $10 that looked to him just as good, and told the youngster about it, and announced that he would bring it out. On arrival it proved to be a size or two smaller—a $10 size—and the boy was disappointed, but instead of telling him it was just as good, he seemed to get down to the lad’s level and appreciate that it was a matter of importance to him, and he made good without a hint of grumble at the extra trouble involved in taking the machine back and bringing out the larger one, and he paid the added $2 himself. He had said he could get one just as good for less money. He seemed to expect no particular thanks, merely giving the impression that he was only doing what he had agreed to do. Mr. Hine’s eldest was probably born with a streak of tar in his composition, for he has been an ancient mariner ever since I first knew him. No sooner was the boy large enough to run around a bit than he wanted a row boat on the river; but his father promptly responded to such a proposition with, “No, young man; not until you can swim across the river”, evidently in the belief that this was still some seasons off. But the lad wanted the boat, and the moment he could stand the temperature he was in the river, and generally several times a day (his mother never suspected how often), and by hard work and much persistence he managed to get the hang of the thing long before the summer was out, and one day announced that he could swim across the river and wanted the boat. Naturally his father was a bit incredulous, but they went to the water’s edge, and while the elder hired a boat at the Point House, the son retired to the privacy of the Melius dock and stripped for the ordeal. His clothes were put in the boat and the two started, and you can be sure that the father kept close by in case of accident, but there was none, and the boy got across all right. Then his father asked if he could swim back, and he said he would try, and did. No sooner were his clothes on again than he said: “Now, can I have that boat?” and quite as promptly came the answer, “Yes; we will go down town now and get it”. There was no quibbling or hesitation or delay, and no matter how the father may have felt in allowing his small son to have a boat, he had given his word and that settled it, and within the hour the lad was rowing up the river in his own boat, as proud as any small boy could be and without any idea of the situation except that both parties to the bargain had lived up to it.