The young man listened attentively to the words
of his faithful friend and sincerely thanked him for the advice which he
well knew was prompted by affection. During the first year of his
residence in the city, we wrote very frequently to each other, and the
tone of his letters indicated the same pure principles which had ever
governed his actions. Time passed on, and by-and-bye, I could not fail
to notice the change in the style of his letters. He spoke much of the
many agreeable acquaintances he had formed, and of the amusements of the
city, and was warm in his commendations of the Theatre. My heart often
misgave me as I perused his letters, and I mentally wondered where all
this was to end? After a two-years' absence, he returned to spend a few
weeks at home in Littleton, but he seemed so unlike my former friend,
that I could hardly feel at ease in his society. He never once alluded
to any incidents of our school days, as he used formerly so frequently
to do, and objects of former interest possessed none for him now. He
called Littleton a "terribly stupid place," and seemed anxiously to look
forward to his return to Boston. "Surely," said I to him one evening as
we were engaged in conversation, "Littleton must still contain one
attraction for you yet.
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