“You have won the race, Frank, and I congratulate you,” said Tony Weston, as the Butterfly came alongside the Zephyr.

“Thank you, Tony; that is noble and generous,” replied Frank.

“But it is the feeling in our club-isn’t it, fellows?”

“Ay, ay, that it is!” shouted Little Paul.  “Let us give them three cheers, to show the folks on shore that there are no hard feelings.”

The cheers were given lustily-at least, as lustily as the exhausted condition of the Butterflies would permit.  Each member of the defeated club seemed to feel it his duty to banish even the semblance of envy; and it was pleasant to observe how admirably they succeeded.

I do not wish my young readers to suppose that Tony’s crew felt no disappointment at the result; only that there were no hard feelings, no petty jealousy.  They had confidently expected to win the race, even up to the last quarter of a mile of the course; and to have that hope suddenly dashed down, to be beaten when they felt sure of being the victors, was regarded as no trivial misfortune.  But so thoroughly had Tony schooled them in the necessity of keeping down any ill will, that I am sure there was not a hard feeling in the club.  Perhaps they displayed more disinterestedness in their conduct after the race than they really felt.  If they did, it was no great harm, for their motives were good, and they were all struggling to feel what their words and their actions expressed.

“Zephyr, ahoy!” hailed Mr. Hyde, from the Sylph.

“Ay, ay, sir!”

“The prize is ready for the winner.”

The oars were dropped into the water again, and the Zephyr pulled up to the judges’ boat.

“You have won the prize handsomely, Frank, and it affords me great pleasure to present it to you,” said Mr. Hyde, as he handed him a purse containing the prize.  “After the noble expressions of kindness on the part of your rival, I am sure the award will awaken no feeling of exultation in the minds of the Zephyrs, and none of envy in the Butterflies.  I congratulate you on your victory.”

Frank bowed, and thanked the schoolmaster for his hopeful words; and the Butterflies gave three cheers again as he took the prize.  The Zephyr was then brought alongside her late rival.

“Starboard oars-up!” said Frank.

“Larboard oars-up!” added Tony.

“What now, I wonder?” queried Fred Harper.

“Forward oarsman, step aboard the Butterfly,” continued Frank.

“Forward oarsman, step aboard the Zephyr,” said Tony.

Then the next member in each boat was passed over to the other, and so on, till the whole starboard side of the Zephyr was manned by Butterflies, and the larboard side of the Butterfly by Zephyrs.

“Ready-up!” said the coxswains, as they proceeded to get under way again.

Thus, with the two clubs fraternally mingled, they slowly pulled towards the nearest shore, while the band played its sweetest strains.  The spectators still lingered; and as the boats neared the land, they were greeted with repeated cheers.  Then, side by side, they pulled slowly along the shore, within a few rods of the lake’s bank, till they reach the Butterflies’ house, where they all landed.

And thus ended the famous boat race, over which the boys had been thinking by day and dreaming by night for several weeks.  The occasion had passed; and if it was productive of any evil effects in the minds of those who engaged in it, they were more than balanced by the excellent discipline it afforded.  They had learned to look without envy upon those whom superior skill or good fortune had favored, and to feel kindly towards those over whom they had won a victory.  It was a lesson which they would all need in the great world, where many a race is run, and where the conqueror is not always gentle towards the conquered-where defeat generates ill-will, envy, and hatred.

“A new commandment I give unto you, that ye love one another,” said Jesus-not only love one another when the sky is clear, and the waters are smooth, but when the clouds threaten, and the stormy sea lashes with its fury; not only when the arm of friendship and kindness holds us up, but when all hearts seem cold, when all hands are closed, and all faces frown upon us.  It was this divine command that the circumstances of the boat race tended to exemplify; and I am sure that both the conquerors and the conquered were better prepared for the duty of life than if they had had no such experience.

I do not mean to say that every boat race is a good thing, most especially when it is made to be a gambling speculation by staking money on the result-only that this one was, because those who conducted it made it subservient to the moral progress of the boys.

“Well, Frank, I am glad you won the race,” said Tony, with a smile which testified to his sincerity.  “Fortune favored us at the bridge, and gave us the opportunity of winning the honors.”

“And the profits too, Tony.  Fifty dollars is nothing to us now,” added Fred, with a laugh.

“Thank you, Tony,” replied Frank.  “You are so noble that you almost make me regret we won.  But, my dear fellow, you have won a greater victory in your own heart.  I can envy you the possession of such noble feelings.”

“Pooh, Frank!”

“I am sure I don’t value the victory, because it has been won over you.”

“We trained ourselves to feel right about the matter whichever way the race went.”

“Your heart is so near right that you don’t need much training.  But it is time for us to return home.”

“How about that picnic on the first of May?”

“My father has consented to it.”

“So have our folks; we will have a glorious time of it.  On Saturday afternoon, if you say so we will visit Center Island, and set the May pole.”

“Agreed.”

“But, Frank, school keeps-don’t it?”

“Whew! does it?”

“It did last year; but the committee have talked of giving us the day.  I hope they will.  Ask your father; he is one of them.”

“I will.  We can get the point settled before Saturday.”

“I guess so.”

“All aboard!”

The Zephyrs hastened on board, and in a few minutes were out of sight.  The Butterfly was hauled into her berth, everything was made “snug” and tidy, and the boys hastened to their several homes.  Of course it was not easy for them to drive out of their minds the exciting events of the day, and while all of them, except Tony, were sorry they had lost the race, they had much to console them.  They had won a victory over themselves; and the consciousness of this triumph compensated for their disappointment.  Each of them, adopting the sentiment of their heroic young leader, thought what a good fellow Frank Sedley was, and tried to feel glad that he had won.

There was one of them, however, who did not think much about it after he separated from his companions.  Other considerations claimed his attention; and before he reached his humble home, the race was banished from his mind.  He had a sick father, and the family had hard work to get along.  This was Little Paul.

His mother insisted upon sending him to school while there was anything left to procure the necessaries of life; and as there was little for him to do at home, he was allowed to join the club, because his parents knew how much he loved the sports on the lake, and that nothing but good influences would be exerted upon him in the association.

Paul Munroe was a good boy, in every sense of the word; and though he had never been able to do much for his parents, they regarded him none the less as one of their choicest blessings.  As Tony expressed it, Little Paul’s heart was in the right place; and it was a big heart, full of warm blood.

His father sat in an easy-chair by the kitchen stove as he entered, and a smile played upon his pale blue lips as his eyes met the glance of his loving son.

“Well, Paul, did you win the race?” he asked, in feeble tones.

“No, father; the Zephyrs beat.  Frank Sedley rather outgeneraled Tony, and his crew were more used to pulling than we.  But Frank is a first-rate fellow.”

“Isn’t Tony?”

“That he is!  They are both first-rate fellows; I don’t know where there are two other such fellows in the world.”

“You are right, Paul; they are good boys, and we shall be sorry to take you away from them.”

Little Paul looked inquiringly at his father.  He had more than once begged to be allowed to work in the Rippleton factories, that he might earn something towards supporting the family; but his parents would never consent to take him away from school and confine him in the noisy, dusty rooms of the mills.  His father’s words suggested the idea that they had consented to his request, and that he was to be allowed to work for a living.

“’Squire Chase has been here to-day,” added Mr. Munroe, sadly.

“Has he?  What did he say?” asked Paul, a shade of anxiety gathering upon his fine, manly face.

“We must leave our house, my son,” replied the father, with a sigh.

“Won’t he wait?”

“No.”

“How did he act while he was here?”

“He was very harsh and unfeeling.”

“The villain!” exclaimed Paul, with emphasis, as his check reddened with indignation.

“He is a hard man, Paul; but reproaches are of no use.  The note is due on the first of May; I cannot pay it, so we must leave the house.”

“Where are we to go, father?”

“Your grandfather, who has a large farm in Maine, has written for me to come there; and your mother and I have decided to go.”

Paul looked sad at the thought of leaving the pleasant scenes of his early life, and bidding farewell to his cherished friends; but there was no help for it, and he cheerfully yielded to the necessity.  It was of no use to think of moving the heart of ’Squire Chase-it was cold, hard, and impenetrable.  He was a close-fisted lawyer, who had made a handsome fortune in the city by taking advantage of the distresses of others, and it was not likely that he, having thus conquered all the nobler impulses of his nature, would have any sympathy for Mr. Munroe in his unfortunate condition.

The poor man had bought the little place he occupied a few years before for seven hundred dollars-paying two hundred down, and giving his note, secured by a mortgage, for the rest.  The person of whom he had purchased the place, whose lands joined it, had sold his estate to ’Squire Chase, to whom, also, he had transferred the mortgage.  The retired lawyer was not content to remain quiet in his new home, and there repent of his many sins, but immediately got up an immense land speculation, by which he hoped to build a village on his grounds, and thus make another fortune.

Mr. Munroe’s little place was in his way.  He wanted to run a road over the spot where the house was located, and had proposed to buy it and the land upon which it stood.  He offered seven hundred and fifty dollars for it; but it was now worth nine hundred, and Mr. Munroe refused the offer.  The ’Squire was angry at the refusal, and from that time used all the means in his power to persecute his poor neighbor.

Then sickness paralyzed the arm of Mr. Munroe, and he could no longer work.  The money he had saved to pay the note when it should become due was expended in supporting his family.  With utter ruin staring him full in the face, he sent for ’Squire Chase, and consented to his offer; but the malicious wretch would not give even that now; and the land was so situated as to be of but little value except to the owner of the Chase estate.  The ’Squire was a bad neighbor, and no one wanted to get near him; so that Mr. Munroe could not sell to any other person.

The crafty lawyer knew that the poor man was fully in his power, and he determined to punish him, even to his ruin.  He hated him because he was an honest, good man; because his life, even in his humbler sphere, was a constant reproach to him.  The note would be due on the first of May, and he had determined to take possession in virtue of the mortgage.

Poor Paul shed many bitter tears upon his pillow that night; and from the depths of his gentle heart he prayed that God would be very near to his father and mother in the trials and sorrows that were before them.