“Why, if I were in your place, lad, I’d black boots to get to a college, I would. Don’t lose a day. I know a theological seminary in high standing where you can get as good a training for the ministry as may be secured anywhere in the United States, where your mind will awaken and where you may not feel ashamed after graduating from it. From there you can go to a college, entering the Junior year. That will mean five years more, Albert, five years of blessed privilege, which I shall envy you, lad!” “But I have no money, and it must cost money to enter the theological seminary,” I insisted. “I should have to get there, and there would occur several expenses for books and things when I get there.” “I can get fifty dollars for you on a note, which I will secure. Trust me,” replied Mr. Woodward. “I mean that you shall go ahead. The world can’t afford to let one of its ambitious lads slip up. It’s not good economy. Fifty dollars will start you off. The expenses at the seminary are trivial. There will occur opportunities for self-help. In the summer you may get a church. Come to me tomorrow afternoon. I’ll get busy with the telephone and telegraph right away. The Seminary opens this week. Come tomorrow, lad, and I hope to have good news for you. I feel that you’ve got your chance!” As I left him standing at the door, gazing after me, I hurried home whistling; thinking, too, what an overturn of emotion can occur in a single day. _Chapter XXI. Over the Sea to a New Educational Chance. How I Revenged Myself on the Hungry Days. The Cloistered Serenity of the New Place_ The following afternoon when I arrived at Mr. Woodward’s house, I found a young man with him, whom he introduced as Mr. Blake, a Congregational minister from a nearby town, whom he had invited in to talk to me about the Seminary. “Mr. Blake graduated there a few years ago and can tell you all about it,” added my friend. “Had you better not show him the telegram you have from the President of the Seminary?” suggested the young man. Mr. Woodward smiled, and showed me a telegram which read, “Send the young man at once!” and bore the signature of the Seminary President. Then Mr. Woodward put his hand into his pocket and brought out from thence a cluster of crinkling bills. “Hold your hand, Albert,” he smiled. “It’s money!” He counted into my hand fifty dollars and said, “If you are energetic, this is all the money you will have to borrow for awhile. I am glad for you, my lad. Now I have to attend a funeral. You go out for a walk with Mr. Blake and come back with him in time for supper. We’re to have an informal celebration together.”