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Alas! for the instability of human happiness! Just before the
fatal vacation of which we have spoken, Mrs. Mitten was as happy
as she could be on this earth. Her two daughters had married men
of worth, position and fortune, and were comfortably settled in
counties adjoining that in which she resided. Her son, already distinguished,
was on the high road to preferment, and her mind was at
peace with her Maker and the world. What changes a few months
more wrought in her destiny!

The events with which we concluded the last chapter, occurred on
Friday night, running into Saturday morning. On Monday morning
the Faculty met and Mr. Mitten was summoned before them.

“Mitten,” said the President, “you are charged with keeping a
disorderly room—with keeping intoxicating liquors in your room—
with drinking intoxicating liquors—with playing cards, and with insulting
Professor Plus on Friday night last.”

“May I be permitted,” enquired Mitten, “to ask upon what evidence
these charges are brought against me?”

“I do not think,” said the President, “that you have a right to
demand the evidence, until you deny the charges.”

“I hope,” said Professor Plus, “that I shall be permitted to put
Mr. Mitten in possession of the evidence upon which the charges
are founded, before he is required to answer them.” The President
nodded assent. “About twelve o'clock or a little after, on Friday
night last, I was waked out of sleep by a noise in the dormitory
adjoining mine. It was not continuous, but fitful, and therefore the
more annoying; for with every intermission I flattered myself it
would cease, and I would just get into a doze, when I was roused by
it again. I endured it for about an hour, when I rose, dressed myself,
went out, and found that the noise proceeded from Mitten's
room. I approached the door, and paused for a moment; just as I
reached it, I heard five thumps on a table in quick succession, followed
by a yell and profane swearing. `But for Mitten's Jack of
Hearts,' said a voice that I took to be Johnson's, `I should have
taken the pool. He plays the devil with hearts.' `Rabb,' said one,
`you were looed.' `No, I wasn't,' said Rabb, `I didn't stand.' `It's
Mitten's deal,' said another. `No, it isn't,' said a third, `he dealt
last time.' Here I knocked and was told to walk in, but I found
the door locked. After much shuffling and rattling of glasses, I was

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admitted. Upon entering the room, my olfactories were assailed
strongly with the fumes of wine and brandy.” The Professor proceeded
with the details which we have already given the reader.

“President S****,” said Mitten, “suppose a Professor of this
Institution should take up a strong prejudice against a student, should
seek all opportunities of mortifying him and wounding his feelings,
and in order to bring him before the Faculty, plainly and palpably
violate the laws of College—has the student any redress, and how?”

“Mr. Mitten,” said the President, “our time is too precious to be
occupied with the discussion and settlement of hypothetical cases;
but if you have been thus aggrieved, you should seek redress of the
Faculty, and if you do not find it here, you should appeal to the
Trustees.”

“So I supposed,” said Mr. Mitten, “and I am now ready to answer
the charges brought against me, and to lay my complaints before
the Faculty.”

He now delivered a flaming speech, in a remarkably fine style for
one of his age. As to the first charge, he said that “keeping a disorderly
room,” certainly implied something more than having disorder
in his room for a single evening. So of “keeping intoxicating
liquors in his room.” As to “drinking intoxicating liquors,” he
said he would answer that with the last charge. He admitted there
was card-playing, but asserted positively that there was not a bank
bill, a piece of gold or silver staked on the game—that the pool
spoken of consisted of nothing but button-molds—”

“Mr. Mitten,” said the President, “didn't those button-molds
represent quarters, half dollars or dollars, or some other denomination
of money?”

“Really, Dr. S****, I cannot see how little bits of bone could
represent money. A bill represents money, because it contains on its
face a promise to pay money; but—”

“Go on with your defence, Mr. Mitten,” said the President.

“Before I answer the last charge,” continued Mitten, “I beg
leave to read a law of the College: `One of the Professors shall
room in each dormitory, whose special duty it shall be to visit the
rooms, and keep order therein.' Now, gentlemen of the Faculty, (I
only address such,) you perceive that Professor Plus had no right to
visit rooms out of his dormitory. My dormitory was in charge of
Professor Syncope, a man not more remarkable for his gigantic intellect
than he is for his courtesy, kindness and easy familiarity with
the students. He heard no noise, `continuous or fitful.' He was

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not disturbed, and it is very strange that one out of the dormitory
should have been annoyed and disturbed by noises kept up for near
an hour, which one in the dormitory heard nothing of. I know that
one Professor may have much more sensitive nerves than another,
and be much more given to watchings and other imbecilities, but
these differences will hardly account for the wonderful fact, that the
one should have been kept awake an hour by noises, which the
other, more likely to be disturbed by them, should not have heard at
all. But, admitting that Professor Plus was disturbed by the noise,
and admitting that the noise was twice as loud and twice as long
continued as it was, I deny his right to come into another Professor's
dormitory to suppress it. The law is clear upon this point. The
law says, there shall be one Professor in each dormitory; Professor
Plus says there shall be two—at least when he takes a nervous fit.
How far his interference with Professor Syncope's prerogative comported
with courtesy and delicacy, it is not my province to determine;
but I have a right to see to it that I am not injured by the intrusion.
While Professor Plus was in that dormitory, I regarded him as no
Professor at all—as having no right to enter my room. No one has
a higher respect for the Professors of this institution, than I have;
but when a Professor so far forgets his high and dignified position,
as to turn persecutor of those over whom he is placed as a protector
and instructor, to trample the laws of college under foot, to usurp
authority which does not belong to him, to forget the comity due to
his associates, to pretend to superhuman powers of the `olfactories,'
in distinguishing the odor of liquors assailing them at one and the
same time, to consort with owls, bats, wolves and hyenas—”

“Stop, Mr. Mitten,” said the President, “I cannot sit here and
hear a Professor so grossly insulted without interposing for his protection.”

“I mentioned no names,” said Mitten, “and if the cap fits—”

“I hope,” said Professor Plus, smiling in common with the other
Professors, “I hope that the young gentleman will be permitted to
finish his speech. I speak candidly and sincerely, when I say that
I have rarely, if ever, had such an intellectual entertainment from
one of his years. I will thank him, however, to explain to me,
wherein I assumed the character of a `persecutor.' All the rest of
his speech I understand perfectly, but as to this part I am wholly in
the dark.”

“You have called upon Marshall, Morton and myself to recite
oftener, than any other three students in the class,” said Mitten.

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“I was not apprised of that,” returned the Professor, “though in
all probability it is true. The class is alphabetically arranged, and I
commonly begin the recitation first at one extreme of the list, then
at the other, and then at the middle. It is frequently the case that
there are not propositions enough to engage the whole class, and
whenever that is the case, those near the middle will have to recite,
no matter at which end I begin. Now as Mitten's name stands right
between Marshall's and Morton's, and in the middle of the class, I
commonly begin at him, if I do not commence at either extreme,
and if I go up from him, Morton will not be called—if I go down,
Marshall will not be. This will explain the matter, and I am very
happy to find that you have no other ground to base the charge of
persecution upon than this. Time was, when Mitten regarded it no
persecution to be called on often to recite.”

“How much oftener have Marshall and Morton been called up
than the rest of the class?”

“Once.”

“And you?”

“Twice.”

“Mr. Mitten,” said the President, “you will retire if you please.”
He did so, and in a few minutes he was recalled to receive the
judgment of the Faculty, which, without a dissenting voice, was,
that he be expelled. In delivering the sentence, the President addressed
him very feelingly—deplored the abuses to which he was
subjecting his extraordinary mind, and exposed the absurdity of any
student's supposing that a Professor could take up a prejudice against
a moral, orderly student. He referred to a law, which Mr. Mitten
had entirely overlooked, making it the general duty of all the Professors
to preserve order in the College, and see that its laws were
obeyed. The President having concluded,

“Dr. S****,” said Mittten, “will you favor me so far as to tell me
what I am expelled for?”

“Certainly,” said the President; “for keeping—or if you like the
term better—for having a disorderly room; for having and drinking
intoxicating liquors in your room, for gambling in your room, and for
grossly insulting a Professor in your room, and still more grossly before
the whole Faculty.”

“Was there any proof that I drank liquor?”

“No positive proof, but quite enough to satisfy our minds of it.”

“Gambling implies that we played for money—was there any
proof of that?”

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“Abundant proof; but we have not time now to give the reasons
of our opinion upon the several charges. Suffice it to say that you
have not denied a single one of them; and as for this one, we are
constrained to believe that six young gentlemen would not have set
up till one o'clock in the morning playing for button-molds.”

“But four of them had actually gone to bed, and another was undressing
to go to bed when Professor Plus entered.”

“Yes, but they must have sit up very late; for they were so completely
exhausted that they could not take time to undress; and so
sleepy, that between the knock at the door and the opening of it,
they all fell sound asleep. They monopolized all the beds in the
room, too, leaving you and your studious companion no place to
sleep; which was exceedingly impolite, to say the least of it And
here, Mr. Mitten, is the end of questions and answers.”

Mitten retired very much incensed, and appealed, not to the Trustees,
but to his fellow-students, for justice. Nine espoused his
cause. They disguised themselves, serenaded Professor Plus with
tin pans, horns, and other noisy instruments, broke his windows,
broke up his black-boards, and placarded him in various ways and
places. Six were detected and expelled, of whom David Thompson
was one. Three escaped for want of proof against them. Thus far
Thompson had been hurried on by blind impulse; but now the hour
of sober reason had returned, and he was overwhelmed with the
troubles which gathered upon him. He was disgraced near the
close of a creditable Collegiate career. He had not money to bear
his expenses home. He looked towards home with horror; for his
mother was no Mrs. Mitten, and Mr. Markham was a faithful representative
of his father, and there was the mortification of meeting
his many friends and his father's friends as an expelled student. As
his troubles increased, so did his indignation against his cousin.
“William,” said he, “had you followed Mr. Markham's advice, you
would have taken the first honor in your class; but instead of that,
you have disgraced yourself, disgraced me, and got five more of
your fellow students expelled. Two of the three ringleaders in the
scrape have escaped, while the rest of us who did nothing more than
join in the serenade are dismissed. Had Mr. Markham been inspired,
he could not have foreseen our difficulties clearer, or advised
us better about them than he did. What benefit has our frolic been
to you? How much has it injured Plus? You were justly punished,
and you know it; and I know it; and suppose you had been
unjustly punished, how could such foolery as we went through

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better your case? Bad luck attends every one who links himself to
you. What am I to do? I've not money enough to carry me
home—”

“I've got nearly enough to carry us both home, and I can borrow—”

“And where did you get it? You won it; and I will not touch
a cent of it—I'll tell you what I'm going to do: I'm going
to acknowledge my fault, promise a strict observance of the rules
of the College for the future, and beg the Faculty to restore me—”

“Is there a man in whose veins the Thompson blood runs who can
let himself down so low as that!”

“Yes, and I am that man. I have done wrong, and why not confess
it? I will confess it to everybody else who cannot help me;
why not confess it to the Faculty who may help me?”

“Well, if you can truckle to men who have treated your cousin as
the Faculty has treated me, you can do so; but if you do, I can
never feel to you again as a cousin —”

“Well then, we shall be even, for I certainly do not feel to you as
a cousin —”

“You don't?”

“No, I don't.”

“Then, good morning, Mr. Thompson. You can shape your
course as you please, and I'll do the same.”

Thompson followed his better judgment; and the Faculty, in consideration
of his previous good conduct—that he had never been
charged with an offence before—and that he was nearly related to
Mitten, and therefore exposed to peculiar temptation from him, commuted
the punishment from expulsion to three weeks' suspension.
He rejoiced at his good fortune, and thenceforward improved it
through life. Two of his companions in guilt tried the same experiment;
but as they had nothing to recommend them to clemency,
their sentence was unchanged.

“And there is Nassau Hall justice,” said one of them. “Two
students in precisely the same predicament, one expelled, and the
other suspended for three weeks! A glorious College this!”

Mr. Mitten waited on Miss Ward, and informed her of “the injustice
that had been done him.”

“It only gives me, dear William,” said she, “an opportunity of
proving the sincerity of my attachment. As the ivy clings to the
beauteous column, whether erect, careening, or prostrate, so my
heart's affections cling to my William, through all the changes of

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life. There is a sweet comfort mingled with the bitterness of your
misfortune, my idol: it is, that the hour which is to unite our hearts
in the golden chain of wedlock, will be hastened a full year and a
half or more.”

William looked up to the ceiling, as if he expected to see the gold
chain up there; and Amanda took his upturned eyes as an indication
of heavenly aspirations, and wept.

“I must tear myself from you, Amanda,” said William, presenting
his hand and lips. She threw her arms around him, and then he
threw his arms around her. They kissed.

“Another,” said Amanda.

“And yet another.”

And then a long, long, “farewell!”

She dropped her head upon his bosom and wept. William covered
his face with his handkerchief, blew his nose twice, sympathetically,
heaved theatrically, and waited a sign that the tragedy was over.
But as no sign came, he said:

“We must part, Amanda. I never shall forget you—your all-confiding
nature, your tender, warm-hearted love.”

Here an honest tear filled his eye, conscience stung him, shame
reddened his checks, and he gave her a strong, remorse-forced embrace,
and tore himself from her, in truth. As he left the door, he
muttered:

“Love like that deserves a better return. How sincere, how
ardent! How sweet her breath, how fervid her embrace, how eloquent
her grief! And yet they made no more impression on me,
until I began to utter literal truths and mental lies as a return for
her affection, than the dew-drop makes upon the flinty rock! Heavens
and earth! What progress I am making in iniquity! I am
already a very devil! A deceiver of those who love me most—my
mother—Amanda—I must not reckon up my iniquities, or they will
addle my brain, or drive me to suicide.”

He reached his room, paced it awhile in anguish, then seated
himself and wrote:

“My dearest Louisa—Ill health drives me from college —”

“Another lie!” said he, flinging down the pen and rising furiously.
“How sin begets sin,” continued he, with hurried strides
over the room.

It was long before he could return to his letter; and when he did,
it was only to add:

“To-morrow, I leave for Georgia, whence you will hear from me
more fully and more affectionately, on my arrival.”

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“There,” said he, “there is my last lie, at least. I'll go home,
reform, marry Louisa, and lead a new life.”

He set out for Georgia the next day, and reached home without
delay or accident. The Sanford draft had preceded him just two
days. His mother paid it promptly, and had just closed a long, tearbedewed
letter to him, when he rushed into the room, and advanced
to embrace her. He did embrace her, just in time to save her from
falling to the floor, for she had swooned at the first sight of him.
Assistance was called, and she was put to bed. She revived, embraced
her child and swooned again. The doctors advised him to
retire from her bedside, until she recovered strength to receive him.
So long did the second paroxysm continue, that even the physicians
began to fear that life was extinct. She did revive, however, like
one awaking out of a sweet sleep. Casting her eyes around the
room, she whispered:

“Have they taken him away from me already?”

“He is near at hand, Mrs. Mitten,” said a physician, “and will
be introduced again as soon as you become a little more composed.”

“I am perfectly composed now,” said she, in the same subdued
tone, “let him come in. Do you know what brought him home so
soon?”

“No, Mrs. Mitten, your physicians know better when you will be
prepared to receive him than you do, and we hope you will put
yourself under our direction.”

“Certainly I will, Doctor. I am a poor, weak woman. I try to
do right, but I am always doing wrong. Let it be as soon as you
can, Doctor; but don't yield your judgment to mine, for I have no
confidence in my opinions. I followed brother's advice while he
lived, and Mr. Markham's after he died, and I don't know what
better I could have done. I feel a great deal better now, Doctor;
don't you think I am? I think I could see him now calmly; if
nothing had brought him home.”

One of the physicians withdrew to William's room:

“William,” said he, “for your mother's sake I enquire of you,
what brought you home so soon?”

“I was expelled from College,” said William. “I need not try to
conceal it, for it must soon be known.”

“William,” continued the Doctor, “if you tell your mother that,
I'm confident she will not survive it an hour. She has been declining
in health for several months, and your sudden appearance to her, has
brought her to the very brink of the grave—”

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“Then, I suppose, to the long list of my lies, I must add another
to a dying mother.”

“Why, William, you shock me!”

“I wish heaven's lightning would `shock' me, even unto death.
What I came into the world for, I don't know, and the sooner I go
out of it, the better for both the world and myself, I reckon.”

“Compose yourself, William, and if we send for you, approach
your mother with as much self-composure as possible—”

Just here the Doctor was sent for in haste. He returned to Mrs.
Mitten, and found her sinking, and begging to see her son. He was
sent for, and approached her with marvellous self-command.

She reached forth her arms to him, and he gently bent himself to
their embrace. She held him long to her bosom, a flood of tears
came to her relief, and she brightened wonderfully. Releasing and
gazing on him for a moment, she said:

“My dear boy, you are wonderfully improved in appearance.”

By this time the room was thronged with visitors. The Doctors
requested them to withdraw, in order that Mrs. Mitten might be undisturbed,
and if possible, gain sleep.

“Let William and Mr. Markham remain,” said she.

The rest retired.

“Mr. Markham,” said she, “I am very weak. I do not think the
Doctors know how extremely ill I am. Be as you have been for a
few years past, and as you would have ever been but for my folly, a
father to my boy; and, William, regard Mr. Markham as your father,
and follow his counsels in all things. Mr. Markham, pray with us.
Give thanks for the safe return of my boy, and that I have been permitted
to see him once more before I leave the world. What fortune
brings him home so suddenly I know not, but it is good fortune
to me, for without it I am sure I should never have seen him
again. Give me your hand and kneel, William. Pray, Mr. Markham.”

As they bowed, William thought of Mr. Markham's parting prayer,
and the counsels that preceded it, of his abuses of those counsels,
and the bitter consequences; and his bosom heaved with indescribable
emotions. His mother gave his hand a quick emphatic
pressure at every petition, which she would have him notice particularly.
These signals of attention became less and less sensible as
the prayer progressed, till just before its conclusion they ceased entirely—
her grasp relaxed, and her hand lay motionless and almost
lifeless upon that of her son. Mr. Markham and William rose,

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turned their eyes to the gentle sufferer, and saw on her countenance
every mark of immediate dissolution. They called for the Doctors—
they came, and reached her bed just in time to hear her last words:

“William—meet me in—”

The sentence was never finished. The sweetest, the kindest, the
gentlest, the holiest of the village was gone! We will not pretend
to describe the scenes which followed. Her daughters and sons-in-law
came but to pour tears upon her mortal remains, as they reposed
in the coffin. The elder sister and her husband took charge of the
house; the other two remained a few days, and left for their residence.
William took his room, and never left it for near a month,
save to tread pensively the walks of the garden. At the end of a
fortnight, he addressed a letter to Miss Green, reporting his mother's
death, and telling her that she was the last and strongest tie that
bound him to earth, and his only hope of heaven. In due time he
received an answer, expressing the tenderest sympathy for him in his
bereavement, and concluding as follows:

“I have been tormented by strange reports concerning you which
I cannot, I will not believe, until they receive some confirmation from
your own lips. I will not aggravate your griefs by repeating them
now, farther than just to say, that if true, your last brief epistle from
Princeton was untrue.