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"I wish I could send you to college, Guy," said Mr. Fenwick, as they sat in the library, reading by the soft light of a student lamp.
The speaker was the Rev. Mr. Fenwick, the pastor of a church in Bayport, a few miles from New Bedford, Massachusetts.
"I don't think I care much about going to college, father," said Guy, a bright, manly, broad-shouldered boy of sixteen.
"When I was of your age, Guy," replied his father, "I was already a student of Harvard. You are ready for college, but my means are not sufficient to send you there."
"Don't worry about that, father. There are other paths to success than through college."
"I am rather surprised to hear you speak so{2} indifferently, Guy. At the academy you are acknowledged to be the best Latin and Greek scholar they have had for years."
"That may be, father."
"It is so. The principal so assured me, and he would not misrepresent just to please me."
"I am glad that I have so good a reputation."
"With such qualifications it seems certain you would achieve success in college, graduate high, and, in time, become a distinguished professional man, or perhaps professor."
"Perhaps I might; but, father, in spite of my taste for study, I have one taste still stronger."
"What is that?"
"A taste for adventure. I want to see the world, to visit strange countries, to become acquainted with strange people."
As the boy spoke his face became flushed and animated.