The last link was broken; I followed my only friend to the grave, my master having the humanity to take me in a carriage to the funeral; and I need not tell you that one of the first acts of my life, when I had the power to do it, was to put a stone at the head of poor O’Brien’s grave. But heaven opened one source of pleasure to the poor orphan’s heart. If the living denied me their sympathy, the dead did not; I became fond of reading; and all at once, as it were, a flood of light and knowledge entered my whole soul. To indulge myself in this newly found pleasure was scarcely possible, for my labours seemed to increase as I grew older. Indeed there were greater difficulties in the way now than there would have been at first, for then I was a mere cipher, and was only used as a convenience. But there were certain things going on which made it necessary that there should be no spies or tell-tales about; and as I would not join the young men in their irregularities, they thought I meant to ingratiate myself with Mr. Bartlett by exposing them. As the follies they committed were not injurious to our master’s interest, I had no intention of exposing them, for he was a hard man and showed them but few favours. My companions, however, became shy of me, and I found that they even preferred to do without my assistance than to have me near them; but I held fast by my integrity; and I have the satisfaction of knowing that I was true to my employer’s interests, never injuring them myself nor suffering others to do it. My only chance of reading was after supper; I then went to my room, and there I sat, devouring book after book, night after night, by the light of my little lamp, with my old cat, either on my lap or on my bed, the only living thing that claimed any companionship with me. When I had exhausted the books in the house, I hired others at the libraries; and thus I went on, my appetite increasing as I proceeded; and my eighteenth year found me exactly in the same round of duty, but with a mind that seemed almost bursting its bounds with the knowledge that I had thus crammed into it. Just at this period, my uncle, that cruel man, of whom poor O’Brien had so often to speak, wrote to Mr. Bartlett concerning me. He said that, if I would take the name of Parr he would make over to me a tract of land which he owned in Virginia, and that if money were necessary, towards procuring this change of name, I might draw on a certain firm in New York to the amount of two hundred dollars. I was very indignant at first, but Mr. Bartlett seemed resolute in accomplishing the thing, and I at length reluctantly consented to give up the name. In the course of a year, the whole was arranged. I adopted the name of Parr, and Mr. Bartlett, thinking it better to sell the land at a moderate price than to let it lie unproductive, found a purchaser for it, and the money—twelve hundred dollars—was judiciously placed out at good interest.