s storms, his
heart was oppressed with the many emotions which were struggling
there. The day had come in which he was to leave the fireside of so
many enjoyments; the friends endeared to him by so many associations--
so many acts of kindness. He was to bid adieu to his mother, that
loved, loved benefactor, who had protected him in sickness, and
rejoiced with him in health. He was to leave a father's protection,
to go forth and act without an adviser, and rely upon his own unaided
judgment. He was to bid farewell to brothers and sisters, no more to
see them but as an occasional visitor at his paternal home. Oh, how
cold and desolate did the wide world appear! How did he hesitate from
launching forth to meet its tempests and its storms! But the hour had
come for him to go; and he must suppress his emotions, and triumph
over his reluctance. He went from room to room, looking, as for the
last time, upon those scenes, to which imagination would so often
recur, and where it would love to linger. The well-packed trunk was
in the entry, waiting the arrival of the stage. Brothers and sisters
were moving about, hardly knowing whether to smile or to cry. The
father sat at the window, humming a mournful air, as he was watching
the approach of the stage which was to bear his son away to take his
place far from home, in the busy crowd of a bustling world. The
mother, with all the indescribable emotions of a mother's heart, was
placing in a small bundle a few little comforts such as none but a
mother could think of, and, with most generous resolution,
endeavoring to preserve a cheerful countenance, that, as far as
possible, she might preserve her son from unnecessary pain in the
hour of departure.

"Here, my son," said she, "is a nice pair of stockings, which will
be soft and warm for your feet. I have run the heels for you, for I am
afraid you will not find any one who will quite fill a mother's
place."

The poor boy was overflowing with emotion, and did not dare to trust
his voice with an attempt to reply.

"I have put a little piece of cake here, for you may be hungry on the
road, and I will put it in the top of the bundle, so that you can get
it without any difficulty. And in this needle-book I have put up a few
needles and some thread, for you may at times want some little stitch
taken, and you will have no mother or sister to go to."

The departing son could make no reply. He could retain his emotion
only by silence. At l