of our connections made us privileged personages; and the professors winked at many things in us, that in others would have been grave offences. The substance of the matter is, we began our studies together, roomed together, and each completed his course at the same time.
From childhood up, I had loved Charles Huntly—or Charley, as I more familiarly termed him—as a brother; and this fraternal feeling I knew he as warmly returned. We walked together, played together, sung together—ever took each other's part on all occasions, whether right or wrong—and, in fact, for our close intimacy, were dubbed the Siamese twins. We were both only sons of wealthy parents. My father was a wholesale merchant in Boston; so was his; the only difference in their occupations being, that the former dealt in dry goods, the latter in groceries. Now there was another strong tie between young Huntly and myself. He had an only sister—a sweet, modest, affectionate creature, some three years his junior—whom I loved with all the ardent passion of a fiery, impetuous youth; and was, I fancied, loved in return. Be this as it might, my passion for his sister he knew and encouraged; and this, as I said before, only added a stronger link to the chain of our friendship.
In age, Charles Huntly was my senior by nearly a year, and was now a little turned of twenty-one. In stature we were much alike—both being about five feet and ten inches, with regular proportions. In complexion we differed materially—he being light, with light curly hair; and I dark, with hair black and straight. In personal appearance my friend was remarkably handsome and prepossessing. His beauty did not consist in the mere perfection of features—though these were, in general, very fine—so much as in the play and expression of the whole countenance, where every thought seemed to make an instant and passing impression. His forehead was high and broad, and stamped with intellect, beneath which shone a bright, blue eye, that could sparkle with mirth, or flash with anger, as the case might be. The contour of his face was a something between the Grecian and Anglo-Saxon, though the nose was decidedly of the former cast. His skin fine, smooth, and almost beardless—gave him an appearance so boyish that I was often mistaken for his senior by many years—a matter which generally irritated him not a little, as he had a strong repugnance to being thought effeminate. His temperament was strongly nervous. At heart he was truly noble and generous; but this, by those who did not know him intimately, was very frequently overlooked in his hot and hasty temper. None was more ready to resent an insult, or redress a wrong; and as he was very tenacious of his own honor, so was he of another's. If you insulted him, you must take the consequences, and they would not be slow to follow, unless ample apology were made, in which case his hand was ever open for friendship. If he did you a wrong, and became convinced of it, he could not rest until he had sued for pardon. He was wild at times in his notions, headstrong, hot-brained, and, in general, a great enthusiast. Whenever anything new took possession of his mind, it was the great all-in-all for the time being; but was very apt to pass away soon, and be supplied by something equally as great, and equally as evanescent.
Such, as I have just enumerated, were the striking points in the appearance and character of Charles Huntly; and though in the latter we were much alike, yet we seldom quarreled, and then only to make it up the next time we met.
Now, as Charles remarked, in language which I have already quoted, we had often, during our leisure moments, laid out plans of adventure for the future, when our collegiate course should be finished. But the plan of to-day had been always superseded by the one of to-morrow, so that, unless we resolved on something steadily, it was more than probable that the whole would result, simply, in speculating visions of the brain. The last proposition was, of course, the one which opens this chapter; and which had, perhaps, less weight with me at the moment, from my remembering the failure of all the others. Still, there was one thing in its its favor which none of the others had Lad. We had completed our studies now, and were at liberty, if we resolved on it, to
