the aunt I was leaving was the same I
had found there, so softened and kind had she become. "It's not my way,"
said she, "to make many words; you have been a good, obedient boy Walter,
and I am sorry, that you must leave us, but we could not expect to keep
you always. Always do as you have done here, and you will get along, go
where you will; always look upon this house as a home, and if you ever
stand in need of a friend remember you have an Aunt Lucinda, who, if she
does fret and scold sometimes, has learned to love you very dearly, and
that is all I am going to say about it." It was well that she had no
wish to say more, for her voice grew tremulous before she had finished;
and these few words more than repaid me for the endeavours I had made to
please her during my stay with them. "My boy," said Uncle Nathan, "you
are now leaving us. I am not going to spoil you, by giving you money,
for if you wish to ruin a boy there is no surer way than by giving him
plenty of money; and I want to make a man of you, and have you learn to
depend on yourself and save your money: so at present I only intend
giving you enough money to bear the expenses of your journey home, and
buy any clothing you may require before going to a situation; but I have
deposited a sum of money, to remain on interest for six years; if your
life is spared, you will then be twenty-one years of age, and if you
make good use of your time, may save something yourself. I will not say
how large a sum I have deposited, but at any rate it will help you along
a little, if you should wish to go into business for yourself at that
time; and now you had best go to bed and sleep soundly, for you must be
up bright and early in the morning."

The good-byes were all said, and I was seated in the train which was
to convey me from Fulton. As the train passed out of the village I
rose from my seat to obtain a last look at the Academy whose white walls
shone through the trees which surrounded it. I suppose if the Widow
Green had been there she would at once have said I would never see the
Academy again, it being a saying of hers, "that to watch a place out of
sight was a sure sign we would never behold it again." I certainly tested
her saying upon this occasion, for I gazed upon the dear old Academy
till it faded in the distance from my sight, and since then I have both
seen and entered it. When my mother met me at the depot at Elmwood, I
could hardly believe the tall girl who