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past; and as she thought of the pre
sent and the future, the tears would
roll down her sunken cheek. All was
sold, save a few books; and the mo
ney left, after satisfying the crcdi
tors, was used by Mr. Head in pur*,
chasing the humble home, first pre
sented to our readers.
Mrs. Moore had occupied this home
three years at the time our story
opens. Walter was nineteen, and the
beautiful conceptions of his mother’s
mind had been imparted to his, as he
had been capable of receiving and re
taining them; and they had moulds
ed it in strength, beauty and piety.
Reverence for truth seemed to bo an
inherent part of his being.
It was early in Juno. Walter and
Robert had reaped from toil on the
small farm, means sufficient to sup
ply the family with the necessaries,
and many of tho luxurios of life,—
Mrs. Moore’s parents having died in
the meantime, left ber a small prop
erty, which she hoped would enable
her sons, by economy, to acquire an
education. Walter was anxious to
enter college the ensuing winter.
The year passed swiftly. Robert
and Nora, W’th the assistance of
Walter and their mother, made rapid
progress. Walter having advanced
beyond his mother’s capacity to teach
him, sought instruction from Hr.
Head; and when the time was ap
proaching for him to leave home, he
had advanced remarkably well in his
studies. The Christmas holidays
were spent by Walter in arranging
everything for his departure. His
mother, packing his trunk, deposited
in the tray, a bible, having written
on the fly-leaf, “ Read often , care
fully and prayerfully.” She trembled
as She thought of tho temptations to
which he would be liable, away from
tho sacred influences of home, and
prayed God to strengthen birr, for
temptation, shield him when in dan
f ger, and savo him from sin. The
day had been one of trial; she had
reverted to the past —tho ravage of
death, the loss of property, coldness
and neglect of friends. To refloct
upon this, was enough to sudden her
heart; but time, that cures every
wound, had taken the acuteness from
her former pangs Walter’s leaving
home was her present, and bitter sor
row. She had learned to lean upon
bim, arid rely on bis sound judgment;
and she realized in his dutiful affec
tion and provident earn tho happi
ness which only the mother of such a
son can know. She closed the trunk,
and before leaving the room bathed
her face to hide the traces of tears;
for she did not wish to shadow with
grief, the last evening her son would
be at home for months.
\\ alter, Robert and Nora, were
seated round a cheerful fire in the
sitting-room. Nora was perched on
Walter’s knee, while she played with
THE GEORGIA COLLEGIAN.
his jetty hair; and the trio were
building aircastles. Walter drew his
mother’s easy chair to his side, when
she entered the room, and clasped
her hand within his own. Mrs. M.’s
lips trembled, and teais glittered on
her drooping lashes; but she soon
wore a cheerful face and participated
ir. the bright hopes of her children.
The evening glided rapidly away, till
the small clock on tho mantle an
nounced the hour for repose. Walter,
before handing his mother the Bible
for evening prayer, stood a moment
as if struggling with some inward
conviction. He at length asked if be
might read and pray that evening.—
With a heart too full for utterance
she motioned him to proceed. When
they arose from their knees, Mrs.
Moore clasped Walter to her breast
and said, “My son, you will soon
leave your mother to be thrown
among strangers; and you will be
exposed to temptations of which you
never dreamed ; but be prayerful, be
firm, be sincere, and you will be for
tified against all. Bo careful with
whem you associate, avoiding as you
would the deadliest reptile, those
who are profane or obscene. Let the
Bible be your guide, and I have no
fears for your future, either in time
or eternity.”
When she had ended, Walter kiss
ed her good night, and retired, re
solving to remember her counsels.'
Mr. Head called for him early the
next morning, to take him to the
nearest railway station. His fare
wells were uttered, and with his
mother’s kiss as a talisman on his lips
went out into tho world, with untar
nished purity, and a trusting heart.
ciiap. ir.
Mr. Head had given Walter a let
ter of introduction to the Faculty, all
of whom he knew ; and the morning
after his arrival, he entered the pre
sence of Professors and students. For
a moment he thought of the diff'er
ence between his plain garb and the
rich suits of some students present;
but his mind was of too high a caste
to entertain such thoughts long. The
kindness of the Professors who ex
amined him, won his heart; and he
was overjoyed when he found he
could enter Sophomore half advanc
ed.
Walter’s face recommended him
highly to the President; and the lat
ter, having at his house a nephew,
young Ernest Doe, who wanted a
chum, introduced Walter, and re
marked, “ Mr. Moore’s face bespeaks
him a good boy, such as 1 would se
led to share the bed of my relative.”
Ernest greeted Walter cordially, and
insisted that he should accept the
offer of the President. In yielding
his a.-sent, Walter thanked the Pres
ident for the unexpected compliment
and kind offer; and ho and Ernest
returned to the hotel to lock after his
baggage.
Walter had not been at College
long, ere he become a favorite with
the Faculty and most of the students.
The manual labor on tho farm, and
the avidity with which he devoted
every spare moment of his youth to
the acquisition of knowledge, prepar
ed him physically and mentally for
the ascent of the “ Hill
He stood first in his clae%; but his
retiring nature drew back from the
position he had so honestly earned.
He was very sensitive, and his feel
ings had been deeply wounded by
tho jestsof careless, thoughtless hoys,
who aroto be found at every College.
Some gave him the name of “stu
dious plow boy.” While he exulted
in the thought that toil was honora
ble, and that his strenuous efforts
gave him tho advantages he enjoyed,
yet ho could not feel indifferent to
the thrusts of others.
’Tis at College perhaps, that every
boy, raised as Walter was, learns his
first lessons of the world. Human
nature in the boy is human nature in
the man ; the disposition of the boy
is the disposition of the man ; and in
doed tho true character of the boy at
College is seen in the man of after
iife. It would bo well for a sensitive
spirit like Walter’s, to blunt its keen
ness in its younger days. His letters
to his mother, breathed a spirit of
hope arid confidence. He always
omitted the little annoyances that
would trouble him ; indeed, he never
spoke of these except to Ernest, who,
like himself —a Righ-toned, spirited
youth —was struggling with “ chill
penury,” t# obtain an education.
Ernest Doo’s mother died when he
was very young. His only recollec
tions of her, were her daily devo
tions; her descriptions of the angels
and heaven ; and the sad hour when
she was borno from tho darkened
home to the grave. Ilis father, who
had by a life of dissipation, spent the
property that rightfully belonged to
his son, died two years before Ernest
came to College. He had boasted of
his infidelity and left the seed of it
in the soul of his child. This child
was the room-mate and intimate
friend of Walter Moore ; and with his
almost faultless moral conduct, gen
tlemanly manners, and superior intel
lect, he was the boy to win admira
tion from any one.
Notwithstanding Ernest professed
the infidelity of his father, “the
pleasing hope, the fond desire, the
longing after immortality, the secret
dread, and the inward horror of fall
ning into nought,” ail made his soul
“ shrink back on itself, and startle at
destruction.” There were times
when the divinity stirred within him;
hut when he one day, took from his
trunk several infidel works, and invi
ted Walter’s attention to them, he
had but too faint a conception of the
dark poison he was about tw pour in
to the soul of his friend. Walter laid
tho books asido then, however; but
promised to read them during his
summer vacation.
Not long before Commencement, a
little circumstance occurred, which
showed much of Walter’s true moral
worth, and presents him to us, a type
of true manhood. The citizens in the
neighborhood of the College were
greatly annoyed on account of the
depredations on their orchards. As
no other rogue could be found, of
course students were suspected. Two
of Walter’s class, who had not the
disposition nor ability to compete
with him, were envious of his posi
tion, and determined to degrade him.
Accordingly they devised a plan by
which they could make a most hell
ish use of stolen fruit. One rainy
night they robbed the fruit trees of
a man whom, they knew, would
spare neither time nor money, in de
tecting the theif, and went to the
room of Moore and Doe. (leaving as
many tracks in their path as possi
ble,) noiselessly depositing two filled
sacks between a trunk and the wall;
and then going away in such a man
ner that their tracks could not be
seen. Early next morning, Walter
and Ernest, as was their habit, were
up to review their morning recitation
before prayers. Ernest had taken
his book and gone to walk in the
grove, and Walter was alone in their
room, when he heard a knock at the
door. He answered the knock with
a “Come in,” thinking it was a'ser
vant; and was much surprised to see
an old man with several police offi
cers enter. When told their errand,
he winced at the foul suspicion, but
proudly bade them search the room.
In the meantime, the President was
made aware who were in his house,
and Ernest also told that policemen
were in his room. Just as the Pre
sident entered to know the cause of
their mission, a man raised the fruit
from its lurking place, near tho win*
dow. All eyes were turned to Wal
ter; and he, instead of being as pale
as a convict, exhibited the indignant
fire of his soul on his burning cheek.
He sought the eyes of the man who
had been as kind to him as his fa
ther; but when he read in the large
gray eyes, doubt, suspicion—yea, and
a confirmed belief of guilt, he sank
into a chair, and murmured through
the tears which streamed from his
eyes, “ God help m«.” Bitter were
the thoughts thatsurged in his breast.
He knew he was innocent; though
there was the mud on tho window
sill ; tracks outside, which had led
the men to his room ; there the sacks
of fruit; and all appearances against
him. Ho thought of his mother—
could she bear to hear ho was accus
ed of theft ? How it would distress