“I, you see, am nothing,” continued the old man--“nay, do not interrupt me. You will tell me, as you have already told me, that I am much, and have done much, here in Charlemont. But, for all that I am, and have done here, I need not have gone beyond my accidence. My time has been wasted; my labors, considered as means to ends, were unnecessary; I have toiled without the expected profits of toil; I have drawn water in a sieve. It is not pleasant for me to recall these things, much less to speak of them; but it is for your good that I told you my story. You have, as I had, certain defects of character--not the same exactly, but of the same family complexion. To be something, you must be resolved. You must devote yourself, heart and mind, with all your soul and with all your strength, to the business you have undertaken. Shut your windows against the sunshine, your ears to the song of birds, your heart against the fascinations of beauty; and if you never think of the last until you are thirty, you will be then a better judge of beauty, a truer lover, a better husband, a more certain candidate for happiness. Let me assure you that, of the hundred men that take wives before they are thirty, there is scarcely one who, in his secret soul, does not repent it--scarcely one who does not look back with yearning to the days when he was free.” There was a pause. The young man became very much agitated. He rose from his chair, walked apart for a few moments, and then, returning, resumed his seat by the old man. “I believe you are right, sir--nay, I know you are; but I can not be at once--I can not promise--to be all that you wish. If Margaret Cooper would consent, I would marry her to-morrow.” The old man shook his head, but remained silent. The young one proceeded:-- “One thing I will say, however: I will take to my studies after this week, whatever befalls, with the hearty resolution which you recommend. I will try to shut out the sunshine and the song. I will endeavor to devote soul and strength, and heart and mind, to the task before me. I KNOW that I can master these studies--I think I can”--he continued, more modestly, modifying the positive assertion--“and I know that it is equally my interest and duty to do so. I thank you sir, very much for what you have told me. Believe me, it has not fallen upon heedless or disrespectful ears.” The old man pressed his hand. “I know THAT, my son, and I rejoice to think that, having given me these assurances, you will strive hard to make them good.” “I will, sir!” replied William, taking up his cap to depart. “But whither are you going now?” The youth blushed as he replied frankly:-- “To the widow Cooper's. I'm going to see Margaret.”