ent's heart, Thompson--what then?"

"Don't talk about it, lad. I have got eleven of 'em, and that's a side
of the picture that I can't look at with pleasure. I think the boys are
good. They have gone on well as yet; but who can tell what a few years
will do?"

"Or a few months, Thompson," I answered quickly, "or a few days, or
hours, when the will is fickle, principles unfixed, and the heart
treacherous and false. That Smithson and I, Thompson, were fellow
students. We left home together--we took up our abode in the University
together--we were attached to the same college--taught by the same
master--read from the same books. My feelings were as warm as his. My
resolution to do well apparently as firm, my knowledge and attainments
as extensive. If he was encouraged, and protected, and urged forward by
the fond love of a devoted household--so was I. If parental blessings
hallowed his entrance upon those pursuits which have ended so
successfully for him--so did they mine. If he had motive for exertion, I
had not less--we were equal in the race which we began together--look at
us now!"

"How did it happen, then?"

"He was honest and faithful to his purpose. I was not. He saw one object
far in the distance before him, and looked neither to the right nor
left, but dug his arduous way towards it. He craved not the false
excitement of temporary applause, nor deemed the opinion of weak men
essential to his design. He had a sacred duty to perform, which left him
not the choice of action, and he performed it to the letter. He had a
feeling conscience, and a reasoning heart, and the home of his youth,
and the sister who had grown up with him, the father who had laboured,
the mother who had striven for him, visited him by night and by day--in
his silent study, and in his lonely bed, comforting, animating, and
supporting him by their delightful presence."

"And what did you do?"

"Just the reverse of this. I had neither simplicity of aim, nor
stability of affection. One slip from the path, and I hadn't energy to
take the road again. One vicious inclination, and the virtuous resolves
of years melted before it. The sneer of a fool could frighten me from
rectitude--the smile of a girl render me indifferent to the pangs that
tear a parent's heart. Look at us both. Look at him--the man whom I
treated with contemptuous derision. What a return home for him--his
mission accomplished--HIS DUTY DONE! Look at me, the outcast, the
begga