There was a canker gnawing at his heart; the noblest inspiration of his soul eluded his endeavor--viz: he could not make of the turnip a climbing vine.

Months went by; the bloom forsook his cheek, the fire faded out of his eye; sighings and abstraction usurped the place of smiles and cheerful converse.

But a watchful eye noted these things and in time a motherly sympathy unsealed the secret.

Hence the letter to me.

She pleaded for attention--she said her boy was dying by inches.
"I was a stranger to Mr.Greeley, but what of that?
The matter was urgent.