I was saving every dollar; I was looking ahead.

I knew what I wanted--wealth, education, a refined home, and a conscientious, cultured lady for a wife; for, Mr.Dodd"-- this with a formidable outcry--"every man is bound to marry above him: if the woman's not the man's superior, I brand it as mere sensuality.

There was my idea, at least.

That was what I was saving for; and enough, too! But it isn't every man, I know that--it's far from every man--could do what I did: close up the livest agency in Saint Jo, where he was coining dollars by the pot, set out alone, without a friend or a word of French, and settle down here to spend his capital learning art." "Was it an old taste ?" I asked him, "or a sudden fancy ?" "Neither, Mr.Dodd," he admitted.

"Of course I had learned in my tin-typing excursions to glory and exult in the works of God.