202 BRAGGADOCIO.

then snapped his jaws, as though he were mak-
ing his mouth a fly-trap.

Bessie was manufacturing a housewife
needle-book, as she called it, for Tom to carry
to Philadelphia. In it she put buttons of all
sorts and sizes, needles, pins, thread, sewing-
silk, and tape.

Tom was packing up his books, and some
retorts, receivers, and other apparatus that he
thought he might want for his own use. He
was now a tall lad, near sixteen years of age,
stoutly, but not awkwardly built, with a high
forehead, a clear blue eye, a large, well-formed
chin, and a mouth expressive of firmness and
decision of character.

Tom.—How often I shall think of you,
Bessie dear, while I am absent. Here is one
of Mr. Starr’s sketches of you, that he drew on
the island. Here you are under a tree, with
your hand laid on Sancho’s head, as he lies by
you, and the other holding a branch of ever-
green for a parasol. I shall take this with me,
and hang it up in my room.

“Everything here will remind me of you,
brother,” said Bessie, and a large tear-drop fell