loomy as he sat beside his
sister at their early breakfast, of which he was not able to eat a morsel.
"Do eat something, Clary," said she, coaxingly; "only look what nice
buckwheat cakes these are; cook got up ever so early on purpose to bake
them for you."

"No, sis," he replied, "I can't eat. I feel so miserable, everything chokes
me."

"Well, eat a biscuit, then," she continued, as she buttered it and laid it
on his plate; "do eat it, now."

More to please her than from a desire to eat, he forced down a few
mouthfuls of it, and drank a little tea; then, laying his arm round her
neck, he said, "Em, you must try hard to learn to write soon, so that I may
hear from you at least once a week."

"Oh! I shall soon know how, I'm in g's and h's now. Aunt Esther--she says I
may call her Aunt Esther--teaches me every day. Ain't I getting on nicely?"

"Oh, yes, you learn very fast," said Esther, encouragingly, as she
completed the pile of sandwiches she was preparing for the young traveller;
then, turning to look at the timepiece on the mantel, she exclaimed,
"Quarter to seven--how time flies! Mr. Balch will soon be here. You must
be all ready, Clarence, so as not to keep him waiting a moment."

Clarence arose from his scarcely tasted meal, began slowly to put on his
overcoat, and make himself ready for the journey. Em tied on the warm
woollen neck-comforter, kissing him on each cheek as she did so, and whilst
they were thus engaged, Mr. Balch drove up to the door.

Charlie, who had come down to see him off, tried (with his mouth full of
buckwheat cake) to say something consolatory, and gave it as his
experience, "that a fellow soon got over that sort of thing; that
separations must occur sometimes," &c.--and, on the whole, endeavoured to
talk in a very manly and philosophical strain; but his precepts and
practice proved to be at utter variance, for when the moment of separation
really came and he saw the tearful embrace of Em and her brother, he caught
the infection of grief, and cried as heartily as the best of them. There
was but little time, however, to spare for leave-takings, and the young
traveller and his guardian were soon whirling over the road towards New
York.

By a singular chance, Clarence found himself in the same car in which he
had formerly rode when they were on their way to Philadelphia: he
recognized it by some peculiar paintings on the panel of the door, and the
ornamental border of the ceiling. Thi