llege.

The doctor gave him letters recommending him as a young man of
extraordinary talents and of excellent moral character, to the
particular attention of several of the most eminent professors.

His mother bore this second parting with more cheerfulness, especially
as the separation was enlivened by frequent letters from Traverse, full
of the history of the present and the hopes of the future.

The doctor did not forget from time to time to jog the memories of his
friends, the professors of the medical college, that they might afford
his protege every facility and assistance in the prosecution of his
studies.

Toward spring Traverse wrote to his friends that his hopes were sanguine
of obtaining his diploma at the examination to be held at the end of the
session. And when Traverse expressed this hope, they who knew him so
well felt assured that he had made no vain boast.

And so it proved, for early in April Traverse Rocke returned home with a
diploma in his pocket.

Sincere was the joyful sympathy that met him.

The doctor shook him cordially by the hands, declaring that he was the
first student he ever knew to get his diploma at the end of only three
years' study.

Clara, amid smiles and blushes, congratulated him.

And Mrs. Rocke, as soon as she had him alone, threw her arms around his
neck and wept for joy.

A few days Traverse gave up solely to enjoyment of his friends' society,
and then, growing restless, he began to talk of opening an office and
hanging out a sign in Staunton.

He consulted the doctor upon this subject. The good doctor heard him out
and then, caressing his own chin and looking over the tops of his
spectacles, with good-humored satire, he said:

"My dear boy, you have confidence enough in me by this time to bear that
I should speak plainly to you?"

"Oh, Doctor Day, just say whatever you like!" replied the young man,
fervently.

"Very well, then. I shall speak very plainly--to wit--you'll never
succeed in Staunton! No, not if you had the genius of Galen and
Esculapius, Abernethy and Benjamin Rush put together!"

"My dear sir--why?"

"Because, my son, it is written that 'a prophet hath no honor in his own
city!' Of our blessed Lord and Saviour the contemptuous Jews said, 'Is
not this Jesus, the carpenter's son?'"

"Oh, I understand you, sir!" said Traverse, with a deep blush. "You mean
that the people who used some years ago to employ me to put in their
coal and saw their