his own; it was taken and held, and the dark-gray, courageous eyes turned to him with a silent assurance which he felt needed no words.
"It is a rough introduction," he then said: "my name is Philip Held. I was on my way to Oakland Station; but if yon are going farther—"
"Why, that is my station also!" Joseph exclaimed, giving his name in return.
"Then we should have probably met, sooner or later, in any case. I am bound for the forge and furnace at Coventry, which is for sale. If the company who employ me decide to buy it,—according to the report I shall make,—the works will be placed in my charge."
"It is but six miles from my farm," said Joseph, "and the road up the valley is the most beautiful in our neighborhood. I hope you can make a favorable report."
"It is only too much to my own interest to do so. I have been mining and geologizing in Nevada and the Rocky Mountains for three or four years, and long for a quiet, ordered life. It is a good omen that I have found a neighbor in advance of my settlement. I have often ridden fifty miles to meet a friend who cared for something else than horse-racing or monte; and your six miles,—it is but a step!"
"How much you have seen!" said Joseph. "I know very little of the world. It must be easy for you to take your own place in life.
A shade passed over Philip Held's face. "It is only easy to a certain class of men," he replied,—"a class to which I should not care to belong. I begin to think that nothing is very valuable, the right to which a man don't earn,—except human love, and that seems to come by the grace of God."
