“Before Adoniram was twelve years of age, he had heard visitors at his father’s talk a great deal of a new exposition of the Apocalypse, which they pronounced a work of rare interest. Now, the Revelation was the book that, of all others in the Bible, he delighted most to read; and he had searched the few commentators his father possessed without getting much light upon its mysteries. The new exposition was owned by a very awe-inspiring gentleman in the neighborhood; but Adoniram felt that he _must_ have it, and after combating a long time with his bashfulness, he at last determined on begging the loan of it. He presented himself in the great man’s library, and was coldly and sternly refused. For once, his grief and mortification were so great that he could not conceal the affair from his father. He received more sympathy than he anticipated. ‘Not lend it to you!’ said the good man, indignantly; ‘I wish _he_ could understand it half as well. You shall have books, Adoniram, just as many as you can read, and I’ll go to Boston myself for them.’ He performed his promise, but the desired work on the Apocalypse, perhaps for judicious reasons, was not obtained.” In the year 1800 the family removed to Braintree, and two years later, when Adoniram was fourteen years old, took up their abode in the old historic town of Plymouth. In 1804 he entered Providence College—subsequently called Brown University—one year in advance. During his college course he was a hard student; and in 1807, at the age of nineteen, was graduated the valedictorian of his class, in spite of the fact that for six weeks of the Senior year he was absent, engaged in teaching school in Plymouth. He was ambitious to excel; and a classmate says of him, he has “no recollection of his ever failing, or even hesitating, in recitation.” He had a powerful rival in his friend Bailey,[1] and this probably added zest to his ambition. When he received the highest appointment in the commencement exercises, his delight knew no bounds. He hurried to his room, and wrote, “Dear father, I have got it. Your affectionate son, A. J.” He then took a circuitous route to the post-office, that he might quiet the beatings of his heart, and appear with propriety before his classmates, and especially before his rival friend. To his circumspect and studious behavior while in college, a letter to his father from the President of the College bears unequivocal witness: “BROWN UNIVERSITY, _April_ 30, 1805.