more care than was necessary, in order to conceal the sorrow I felt at leaving home; and I was heartily glad to hear the whistle which announced the approaching train, that the parting might be the sooner over. During the few moments we stood upon the platform awaiting the arrival of the train Charley stood by with the most solemn face imaginable. His countenance was always remarkably expressive of either joy or sorrow, and at this time his expression was certainly not one of joy. Many a time since, have I smiled as memory suddenly recalled the woe-begone face of Charley Gray, as I left him that morning. In order to make him laugh I enquired if he could not imagine the look of astonishment with which Farmer Judson would regard us when we should drive past his farm in our fine carriage, which (in imagination) we had possessed the night before. Any one acquainted with Mr. Judson could not have helped laughing at the idea; Charley did laugh but there were tears in his eyes. As the train rapidly neared the station he suddenly extended his hand to me for a last good-bye, and hurried swiftly from the spot, he could not bear to witness my parting with my mother and sister which was yet to come. My mother had borne up until now, but when the time came that I must indeed go, her tears could no longer be kept back. I kissed Flora good-bye, and last of all turned to my mother. She imprinted a parting kiss upon my brow, and as she held my hand with a long, lingering pressure, said in a choking voice, "Remember my counsels, respect yourself, and others will respect you, and may God bless and preserve you from evil!"

I was deeply moved, but to spare my mother's feelings I kept back my tears. The conductor's loud voice was heard calling "All aboard." I hastily entered the car, and taking my seat, the tears I had so long repressed now flowed freely, till some of my fellow-passengers began to question me, when I became ashamed of my weakness. To the many pitying enquiries I replied that I was going a long distance from home and was grieved at parting with my friends.

"Chare up, me man," said a good-natured Irishman who happened to be seated near me. "I was jist yer size (only that I was bigger) when I lift me father and mother in ould Ireland, an' come over to Ameriky."

This remark drew a burst of laughter from several of the passengers, and, though the tears were not yet dry upon my cheek, I could not help joining in the laugh. The man was not in the least disturbed by the merriment of the others, but again turning to me continued:

"As I was a tellin' ye, an older brother an' mesilf crossed the sea to Ameriky, an' the first year we arned money enough to fetch over the ould folks, and we are now livin' altogether agin, in the city uv Montreal, where we have a nate little home uv our own as your two eyes could light upon." The friendly talk of the Irishman both amused and cheered me. How true it is that kind and sympathizing words never fail to cheer the desponding heart.

CHAPTER VIII.

We had written to Uncle Nathan, informing him of the day on which he might expect my arrival; and at the time appointed he drove over to Fulton, the small village two miles from his farm, where was the railway-station. As I stepped from the car I eagerly scanned each face among the crowd to see if I could find any one whose appearance answered to my ideas of Uncle Nathan, but for some time I could see no one whom I could suppose to be my unknown relative. I at length spied a middle-aged gentleman walking backward and forward in a leisurely manner, upon the platform, whom I thought might possibly be my uncle, and, as the crowd had mostly dispersed, I mustered up courage, and in a low voice accosted him with the question. "Please Sir are you my uncle Nathan?" "Your uncle who?" said the old man, as he elevated his eyebrows and regarded me with a broad stare of astonishment. "No I'm not your Uncle, nor nobody's else that I know of," said he, in a sharp crusty voice, then, giving a second look at my downcast face, he seemed suddenly to recollect himself, and said in a much softer tone: "If its Nathan Adams you mean he's just driven round to the other door. Be you a friend of his'n." "Yes Sir," answered I, as I hurried away to the "other door" pointed out by the stranger. From the ideas I had formed of my uncle I was unprepared to meet the kind, hearty looking man whose sunburned face beamed with a smile of welcome, when his eye rested upon me, as I walked with a timid, hesitating manner toward him. He at once held out his hand, saying, "I don't need to ask if you are my nephew Walter, for if I'd a met you most anywhere I should have known you were Ellen Adams' son; just the same dark eyes and happy smile which made your mother such a beauty at your age, for your mother was handsome if she was my sister; but I suppose, like all the rest of us she's beginnin' to grow old and careworn by this time, 'tis the way of the world, you know, boy, we can't always keep young, do our best. Its amazin' how time does fly, it only seems like yesterday since your mother trudged to school over this very road, with her books and dinner-basket on her arm; and now here's you, her son, a great stout boy that will soon be as tall as your old Uncle Nathan. It really does beat all; but I forget that, while I am moralizin' like on the flight of time, you must be famishin' with hunger, to say nothin' of your bein' tired most to death with your long ride in the cars; give me a seat in my wagon behind old Dobbin, with a good whip in my hand, and those who like the cars better may have them for all me. Come right along with me, my boy, and point out your luggage and we'll be off to my farm in no time." Before I reached my new home I had quite got rid of my fears of finding a second Farmer Judson in the person of my Uncle Nathan. As we drove through the village of Fulton, my Uncle directed my attention to a large and tasteful building standing in an open green, on a slightly elevated portion of ground. I said the building stood in an open space, but omitted to mention the thick shade trees which stood in regular rows between the building, and the long street which ran the entire length of the village.

"That," said my Uncle, with no little pride in his voice, "is Fulton Academy, where I mean to send you to school; and I hope when you leave it, you will be a wiser boy than you are now." The homeward drive after leaving the village lay past finely cultivated farms, with their waving fields of ripe grain and beautiful orchards loaded with ripe fruit, which delighted the eye of the passer-by; but the most important object (to me) was the Academy, where I hoped to acquire the knowledge necessary to fit me for the duties of life. During the year I lived with Mr. Judson I many a time thought how I should enjoy my books did my circumstances allow me to do so, and now all this was within my reach. As these thoughts passed rapidly through my mind, I looked up in the kind face of my relative and impelled by a sudden impulse, I seized his hand and, pressing it to my lips, said, "if I am a good boy and do my best to please, you will love me a little, won't you, Uncle Nathan?" "Bless your heart, child," replied my Uncle, "who on earth could help loving you? Yes, Walter, you may be sure I shall love the son of my favorite sister, Ellen; and, were it not so, I think I should soon love you for yourself alone, for, if I am any judge of faces, you are better than the general run of boys of your age."

Can this, thought I, be the man who wrote that short, crusty letter. I must confess, that (at first sight) I was not favorably impressed by the external appearance of the home I was approaching. I had expected to see a handsome tasty building, painted white perhaps; with green blinds, like those we had passed on the way from the village; and when Uncle Nathan said "here we are, Walter, most at home," and I raised my eyes to gain a view of the homestead, the faded dingy appearance of the house and its surroundings