The summer passed in the diligent companionship of the oxen and Sam Doolittle.  But when the harvests were gathered, and the fall work was pretty well done; the winter grain in the ground, and the November winds rustling the dry leaves from the trees, —­ the strongest branch was parted from the family tree, in the hope that it might take root and thrive better on its own stock elsewhere.  It was cheerfully done, all round.  The father took bravely the added burden with the lessened means; the mother gave her strength and her eyesight to make the needed preparations; and to supply the means for them, all pinched themselves; and Winthrop had laid upon him the threefold charge of his own, his brother’s, and his father’s duty.  For Mr. Landholm had been chosen a member of the State Legislature; and he too would be away from home all winter.  What sort of a winter it would be, no one stopped to think, but all were willing to bear.

The morning came of the day before the dreaded Saturday, and no one cared to look at another.  It was a relief, though a hated one, to see a neighbour come in.  Even that, Winthrop shunned; he was cleaning the harness of the wagon, and he took it out into the broad stoop outside of the kitchen door.  His mother and brother and the children soon scattered to other parts of the house.

“So neighbour,” said Mr. Underhill, —­ “I hear tell one of your sons is goin’ off, away from you?”

“Yes,” —­ said Mr. Landholm, pride and sorrow struggling together in his manner, —­ “I believe he is.”

“Where’s he goin’?”

“To Asphodel —­ in the first place.”

“Asphodel, eh? —­ What’s at Asphodel?”

“What do you mean?”

“What’s he goin’ there for?”

“To pursue his studies —­ there’s an Academy at Asphodel.”

“An Academy. —­ Hum. —­ And so he’s goin’ after larnin’ is he?  And what’ll the farmer do without him to hum?”

“Do the best I can —­ send for you, neighbour Underhill.”

“Ha, ha! —­ well, I reckon I’ve got enough to do to attend to my own.”

“I guess you don’t do much but fish, do you? —­ there under the mountain?”

“Well, you see, I hain’t a great deal of ground.  You can’t run corn straight up a hill, can you? —­ without somethin’ to stand on?”

“Not very well.”

“There be folks that like that kind o’ way o’ farming —­ but I never did myself.”

“No, I’ll warrant you,” said Mr. Landholm, with a little attempt at a laugh.

“Well —­ you say there’s an Academy at Asphodel; then he aint going to —­ a —­ what do you call it? —­ Collegiate Institution?”

“No, not just yet; by and by he’ll go to College, I expect. —­ That’s what he wants to do.”

“And you want it too, I suppose?”

“Yes —­ I’ll do the best I can by my children.  I can’t do as I would by them all,” said the father, with a mixture of pride expressed and pride not expressed, —­ “but I’ll try to make a man of Will!”