We have entered thus minutely into the details of our hero's dream, because it was the climax to along series of day-dreams in which he had indulged ever since the discovery of gold in California.Edward Sinton was a youth of eighteen at the time of which we write, and an orphan. He was tall, strong, broad-shouldered, fair-haired, blue-eyed, Roman-nosed, and gentle as a lamb. This laststatement may perhaps appear inconsistent with the fact that, during the whole course of his schoollife, he had a pitched battle every week-sometimes two or three in the week. Ned never began afight, and, indeed, did not like fighting. But some big boys will domineer over little ones, and Nedwould not be domineered over; consequently he had to be thrashed. He was possessed, even inboyhood, of an amount of physical courage that would have sufficed for any two ordinary men. Hedid not boast. He did not quarrel. He never struck the first blow, but, if twenty boys had attackedhim, he would have tried to fight them all. He never tyrannised over small boys. It was not hisnature to do so; but he was not perfect, any more than you are, dear reader. He sometimes punchedsmall boys' heads when they worried him, though he never did so without repenting of it, and doingthem a kindness afterwards in order to make up. He was very thoughtless, too, and very careless;nevertheless he was fond of books-specially of books of adventure-and studied these like ahero-as he was.Boys of his own size, or even a good deal bigger, never fought with Ned Sinton. They knew betterthan that; but they adored him, in some cases envied him, and in all cases trusted and followed him.It was only very big boys who fought with him, and all they got by it was a good deal of hardpummelling before they floored their little adversary, and a good deal of jeering from their comradesfor fighting a small boy. From one cause or another, Ned's visage was generally scratched, often cut, frequently swelled, and almost always black and blue.But as Ned grew older, the occasions for fighting became less frequent; his naturally amiabledisposition improved, (partly owing, no doubt, to the care of his uncle, who was, in every sense ofthe term, a good old man, ) and when he attained the age of fifteen and went to college, and wascalled "Sinton," instead of "Ned," his fighting days were over. No man in his senses would haveventured to attack that strapping youth with the soft blue eyes, the fair hair, the prominent nose, andthe firm but smiling lips, or, if he had, he would have had to count on an hour's extremely hardwork, whether the fortune of war went for or against h