“Perhaps, I shall be the stay of the family, yet,” said Ruth, with an approach to gaiety; “When we move into a little house in town, will thee let me put a little sign on the door:  Dr. Ruth Bolton?”

“Mrs. Dr. Longstreet, thee knows, has a great income.”

“Who will pay for the sign, Ruth?” asked Mr. Bolton.

A servant entered with the afternoon mail from the office.  Mr. Bolton took his letters listlessly, dreading to open them.  He knew well what they contained, new difficulties, more urgent demands fox money.

“Oh, here is one from Philip.  Poor fellow.  I shall feel his disappointment as much as my own bad luck.  It is hard to bear when one is young.”

He opened the letter and read.  As he read his face lightened, and he fetched such a sigh of relief, that Mrs. Bolton and Ruth both exclaimed.

“Read that,” he cried, “Philip has found coal!”

The world was changed in a moment.  One little sentence had done it.  There was no more trouble.  Philip had found coal.  That meant relief.  That meant fortune.  A great weight was taken off, and the spirits of the whole household rose magically.  Good Money! beautiful demon of Money, what an enchanter thou art!  Ruth felt that she was of less consequence in the household, now that Philip had found Coal, and perhaps she was not sorry to feel so.

Mr. Bolton was ten years younger the next morning.  He went into the city, and showed his letter on change.  It was the sort of news his friends were quite willing to listen to.  They took a new interest in him.  If it was confirmed, Bolton would come right up again.  There would be no difficulty about his getting all the money he wanted.  The money market did not seem to be half so tight as it was the day before.  Mr. Bolton spent a very pleasant day in his office, and went home revolving some new plans, and the execution of some projects he had long been prevented from entering upon by the lack of money.

The day had been spent by Philip in no less excitement.  By daylight, with Philip’s letters to the mail, word had gone down to Ilium that coal had been found, and very early a crowd of eager spectators had come up to see for themselves.

The “prospecting” continued day and night for upwards of a week, and during the first four or five days the indications grew more and more promising, and the telegrams and letters kept Mr. Bolton duly posted.  But at last a change came, and the promises began to fail with alarming rapidity.  In the end it was demonstrated without the possibility of a doubt that the great “find” was nothing but a worthless seam.

Philip was cast down, all the more so because he had been so foolish as to send the news to Philadelphia before he knew what he was writing about.  And now he must contradict it.  “It turns out to be only a mere seam,” he wrote, “but we look upon it as an indication of better further in.”