e 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 a