ide him on
such occasions, only tapping her feet, or swinging her bonnet by its
strings, as a relief for the superabundant vitality thus held in check.
And she was Everett's _confidante_ in all his schemes, wishes, and
anticipations. To her he would unfold the various plans he was
continually cogitating. Agnes would listen, sympathizingly sometimes,
but reverently always. _She_ never called or thought him a Visionary. If
his plans for the regeneration of the world were Utopian and
impracticable, it was the world that was in fault, not he. To her he was
the dearest of brothers, who would one day be acknowledged the greatest
of men.

And thus Everett grew to early manhood, till the time arrived when he
was to leave home for Cambridge. It was his first advent in the world.
Hitherto, his world had been one of books and thought. He imagined
college to be a place wherein a studious life, such as he loved, would
be most natural, most easy to be pursued. He should find a
brother-enthusiast in every student; he should meet with sympathy and
help in all his dearest aspirations, on every side. Perhaps it is
needless to say that this young Visionary was disappointed, and that his
collegiate career was, in fact, the beginning of that crusade, active
and passive, which it appeared to be his destiny to wage against what is
generally termed Real Life.

He was considerably laughed at, of course, by the majority of those
about him. Some few choice spirits tried to get up a lofty contempt of
his quiet ways and simple earnestness,--but they failed,--it not being
in human nature, even the most scampish, to entertain scorn for that
which is innately true and noble. So, finally, the worst that befell him
was ridicule,--which, even when he was aware of it, hurt him little.
Often, indeed, he would receive their jests and artful civilities with
implicit good faith; acknowledging apparent attentions with a gentle,
kindly courtesy, indescribably mystifying to those excellent young men
who expended so much needless pains on the easy work of "selling Old
Gray."

However, from out the very ranks of the enemy, before he left college at
the end of his first term, he had one intimate. It would, perhaps, be
difficult to understand how two-thirds of the friendships in the world
have their birth and maintain their existence. The connection between
Everett and Charles Barclay appeared to be of this enigmatical order.
One would have said the two could po