Not far from our humble dwelling stood the residence of Dr. Gray, the
village physician. His only child was a son of nearly the same age as
myself, and we had been firm friends from the days of early childhood.
When of sufficient age we were sent to the same school, where we
occupied the same desk, and often conned our daily lessons from the same
book. The uncommon friendship existing between us had often been
remarked by the villagers. This intimacy was somewhat singular, as
our natures were very dissimilar, it may be this very dissimilarity
attracted us the more strongly to each other. From infancy the
disposition of Charley Gray was marked by peculiarities which will
appear in the course of my story. When at school he made but few friends
among his companions; and the few friendships he did form were marred by
his exclusive and jealous nature. He possessed very strong feelings, and
for a chosen friend his affection was deep and abiding. My own nature
was exactly the opposite. I was frank and joyous, and inclined to make
friends with all. For all that Charley and I were so intimate, even as
boys, his peculiar temperament was often a source of unhappiness to
both. Charley was the child of wealthy parents, while I, being poor, was
often obliged to attend school dressed in clothing which looked almost
shabby beside my well-dressed companions, but with all this I was ever
Charley Gray's chosen companion, in fact he seemed to care little for
any other companionship, and his parents, who had known both my father
and mother long and intimately, were much pleased with his preference
for my society, and took much pains to encourage the friendship existing
between us. Charley was as much delighted as my sister when I returned
home; he had two or three times ventured to visit me at Mr. Judson's,
but his visits always made the Farmer angry, and he chanced one day to
come into the field when we were unusually busy, and, as a matter of
course the Farmer was cross in proportion, and he finally ordered
Charley to "clear out," "its bad enough," said he "to get along with one
boy, but two is out of the question, and the sooner you make tracks for
home the better." Charley was thoroughly frightened, and he followed the
Farmer's advice at once by "making tracks" out of the field, and he
never attempted to repeat his visit. I returned home in the month of
June. Dr. Gray intended sending Charley to a distant school, the coming
autumn; and we both keenly felt the coming separation. He was to be
absent a year before visiting his home, and that time seemed an age
to our boyish minds. The long midsummer vacation soon arrived, and now,
memory often turns fondly to that happy period. My companion and I
certainly made the most of the time allowed before the coming separation.
Together we visited all our favorite haunts, we angled for fish, we
roamed over the fields and through the woods in the vicinity of Elmwood,
and no day seemed long enough for our varied amusements. I often wished
to invite other of our companions to join our sports, but somehow or
other, if this was the case, Charley's enjoyment at once fled. When (as
was often the case) I would mention some of our schoolmates, with a
view to inviting them to accompany us on some excursion of pleasure, a
cloud would instantly come over Charley's countenance, and he would say
in a petulant tone: "What do you want with them, we can surely enjoy
ourselves without their company," and this reply would at once remind me
of his exclusive and peculiar temperament, (which for the moment I had
forgotten) and to please him I would say no more about it. But for this
one fault of my companion's, and a fault it certainly was, I believe had
I had a brother, I could have loved him no better than I loved Charley
Gray. Previous to my mother's marriage her home had been in Western
Canada; her father died while she was quite a young girl, but her
mother, now far advanced in years, still lived in the old home, some
fifty miles from the city of Hamilton. The affairs of the farm and
household were managed by a son and daughter who had never married, and
still resided in their paternal home. My mother was the youngest in the
family, and had been the pet of the household during her childhood and
early youth; she was many years younger than either her brother or
sister, and they had exercised a watchful and loving care over their pet
sister till the period of her marriage and removal to Eastern Canada.
Her brother and sister seldom left their own home, owing to their care
of their aged mother, and for some years past my mother's circumstances
had not allowed her to visit her early home; and, amid the cares of
life, letters passed less and less frequently between them, till they
came to be like "Angels' visits," few and far between. My mother was
equally pleased and surprised, a few weeks after I returned home, by
receiving a kind letter from her brother Nathan. Like all his letters
it contained but few words, but they were dictated by a kind heart. The
most important words (to me) which the letter contained were these:
"Your boy Walter needs more schooling before he goes out into the world,
send him to me and he shall have it. If his disposition is anything like
his mother's at his age I know we shall get along famously together. I
will board and clothe him for two years; he shall attend the best
schools in the place, I promise nothing further, only then, when the boy
leaves me, he shall have all he deserves, if it should be only a cuff on
the ear. In case you should find any difficulty in defraying his
expenses, I enclose money sufficient for that purpose. I know not the
reason, but I feel a strong desire to see your boy, and find out what he
is made of."
My mother was alone when she received this letter; she read it again and
again, and with each perusal her heart warmed toward the brother whom
she had not seen for so many years. "But," thought she, "whatever my own
wishes may be in the matter, Walter must decide for himself. I should
consult his feelings (as far as possible) upon a matter which concerns
him so deeply." When I came home that evening my mother gave me Uncle
Nathan's letter, and with silent amusement watched my face grow sober
as I read it. She really knew this kind-hearted brother--I did not,
and that made all the difference in the world. I suppose my grave
countenance, as I perused the letter, informed my mother that a second
Farmer Judson was rising before my mental vision. When I had finished,
I looked up, and, with an anxious voice, said:
"Tell me, mother, is Uncle Nathan as gruff and crusty as his letter?"
"My son," replied she, "your uncle's manner may seem somewhat short and
crusty to one not acquainted with him; but beneath this rough exterior,
he has a very kind heart. I am well aware that he makes this offer with
sincerity, and that he has your interest at heart. You certainly need
more education to fit you for the duties of life, and now a way is open
for you to obtain it. I can hardly bear the thought of your going so far
from home, and yet I need not expect you always to remain under my own
roof. It is my duty to submit to a temporary separation, if that
separation is for your own interest. I will not advise you too strongly,
for I consider you have a right to a voice in the matter as well as
myself. Should you decide to go, where my advice and influence cannot
reach you, I trust you will retain the good principles I have
endeavoured to inculcate; you are my only son and should you allow
yourself to be led into evil ways, it would be the heaviest trial I have
ever known, and my sorrows have been neither few nor light." I had such
full confidence in the opinions of my mother, that I allowed her to
write to uncle Nathan accepting, for me, his generous offer. Charley
Gray was entirely cast down when he learned that I was to go so far
away. "It's too bad," said he, "that they must send you away to an old
Uncle, who very likely is cross as a bear, and that before the holidays
are over; and then in the fall I'm to be sent off to school, nobody
knows where, so I suppose we may as well call our good times ended." As
Charley said this his lip quivered and the un-shed tear glistened in his
fine dark eyes. I was the only companion with whom he was intimate, and
the swiftly coming separation grieved him deeply. I tried to cheer him
up, but when any thing chanced to cross the wishes of Charley he was
prone to look upon the dark side of every thing, and I fear there are
many older and wiser than Charley Gray who yield to the same failing.