"How can you be anything better, Will?" "Do you think all the world lies under the shadow of Wut-a- qut-o?" "What do you mean?" "Do you think all the world is like this little world which those hills shut in?" "No," -- said Winthrop, his eye going over to the blue depths and golden ridge-tops, which it did not see; "-- but --" "Where does that river lead to?" "It leads to Mannahatta. What of that?" "There is a world there, Winthrop, -- another sort of world, -- where people know something; where other things are to be done than running plough furrows; where men may distinguish themselves! -- where men may read and write; and do something great; and grow to be something besides what nature made them! -- I want to be in that world." They both paused. "But what will you do, Rufus, to get into that world? -- we are shut in here." "_I_ am not shut in!" said the elder brother; and brow and lip and nostril said it over again; -- "I will live for something greater than this!" There was a deep-drawn breath from the boy at his side. "So would I, if I could. But what can we do?" How difficult it was to do anything, both felt. But after a deliberate pause of some seconds, Rufus answered, "There is only one thing to do. -- I shall go to College." "To College! -- Will?" The changes in the face of the younger boy were sudden and startling. One moment the coronation of hope; the next moment despair had thrown the coronet off; one more, and the hand of determination, -- like Napoleon's, -- had placed it firmly on his brow; and it was never shaken again. But he said nothing; and both waited a little, till thoughts could find words. "Rufus, -- do papa and mamma know about this?" "Not yet." "What will they think of it?" "I don't know -- they _must_ think of it as I do. My mind is made up. I can't stay here." "But some preparation is necessary, Rufus, ain't it? -- we must know more than we do before we can go to College, mustn't we? How will you get that?" "I don't know, I will get it. Preparation! -- yes!" "Father will want us both at home this summer." "Yes -- this summer -- I suppose we must. We must do something -- we must talk to them at home about it, -- gradually." "If we had books, we could do a great deal at home." "Yes, if, -- But we haven't. And we must have more time. We couldn't do it at home." "Papa wants us this summer. -- And I don't see how he can spare us at all, Rufus." "I am sure he will let us go," said the other steadily, though with a touch of trouble in his face. "We are just beginning to help him." "We can help him much better the other way," said Rufus quickly. "Farming is the most miserable slow way of making money that ever was contrived." "How do _you_ propose to make money?" inquired his brother coolly. "I don't know! I am not thinking of making money at present!" "It takes a good deal to go to College, don't it?" "Yes."