of this home, taken at another season of the year, and from a different point of view, that his mother and brother had noticed, and yet failed to identify, when Tony’s pictures were inspected.  Fred’s wife dying, leaving a little boy, Antonio, four years old, Fred wished to return to America, but concluded to remain in Italy, educating his boy in English as well as Italian.  A year before this story opens, he wrote his mother that he was about to sail for a port in Algeria.  It was a wild business enterprise, and he sent his little boy, Antonio, with friends—­also named Blanco—­to New York, expecting soon to follow them, and desiring in the meantime to make sure of a good home for Antonio.  During his absence in Africa he wrote home, but his letters miscarried.  Nothing had been heard since the day he sailed from Italy, and his old mother anxiously thought of him on stormy nights, fearing lest he had gone down into the wide grave of the sea.  The Blanco family that cared for Tony in New York, obliged to leave the city by the failure of their work, came to Seamont to find it there awhile.  When they returned to New York, as Tony was attached to Seamont, they left him with the Badger family for awhile.  They were waiting to hear from Tony’s father about his plans for the boy, when he appeared in an unexpected fashion to look directly after Tony, and visit also his relatives; but they and the club were sorry to know that, contrary to his wishes, he must go back to Italy, and take Tony with him.

“Ah, now I understand about that boy,” said Mr. Walton, to his mother; “why he looked familiar, and if the people who brought him had had a different name, I might have looked into it, but I thought they must be relatives.  Of course, not hearing from Fred, we had no thought that his child was here.”

And the mother said, “I hope my boy will now take his true name, and come again soon, and bring Antonio Walton with him.”

But would he and Tony ever come again?  Tony came to bid good-bye to Charlie, and said, very soberly and touchingly, “We’d better kiss each other, for I feel that we shall never see each other again.  Good-bye, for we shall never see each other any more.”

It was a very pathetic speech, and Charlie said, mournfully, as he kissed him, “Well, good-bye, Tony.”

Tony and his father went to Italy in a bark that left Seamont bound for the Mediterranean.  Charlie watched the vessel from the barn window.

Like a gull that flying afar sinks lower and then disappears behind some rising billow, so the sails of the bark, receding farther and farther, vanished behind that blue rim of the horizon that rises up to check our sight and hide away the vessels that may hold our dearest hopes.

CHAPTER XX.

THE BOUND HIGHER UP.