Not far from our humble dwelling stood the residence of Dr. Gray, the village physician. His only child was a son of nearly the same age as myself, and we had been firm friends from the days of early childhood. When of sufficient age we were sent to the same school, where we occupied the same desk, and often conned our daily lessons from the same book. The uncommon friendship existing between us had often been remarked by the villagers. This intimacy was somewhat singular, as our natures were very dissimilar, it may be this very dissimilarity attracted us the more strongly to each other. From infancy the disposition of Charley Gray was marked by peculiarities which will appear in the course of my story. When at school he made but few friends among his companions; and the few friendships he did form were marred by his exclusive and jealous nature. He possessed very strong feelings, and for a chosen friend his affection was deep and abiding. My own nature was exactly the opposite. I was frank and joyous, and inclined to make friends with all. For all that Charley and I were so intimate, even as boys, his peculiar temperament was often a source of unhappiness to both. Charley was the child of wealthy parents, while I, being poor, was often obliged to attend school dressed in clothing which looked almost shabby beside my well-dressed companions, but with all this I was ever Charley Gray’s chosen companion, in fact he seemed to care little for any other companionship, and his parents, who had known both my father and mother long and intimately, were much pleased with his preference for my society, and took much pains to encourage the friendship existing between us. Charley was as much delighted as my sister when I returned home; he had two or three times ventured to visit me at Mr. Judson’s, but his visits always made the Farmer angry, and he chanced one day to come into the field when we were unusually busy, and, as a matter of course the Farmer was cross in proportion, and he finally ordered Charley to “clear out,” “its bad enough,” said he “to get along with one boy, but two is out of the question, and the sooner you make tracks for home the better.” Charley was thoroughly frightened, and he followed the Farmer’s advice at once by “making tracks” out of the field, and he never attempted to repeat his visit. I returned home in the month of June. Dr. Gray intended sending Charley to a distant school, the coming autumn; and we both keenly felt the coming separation. He was to be absent a year before visiting his home, and that time seemed an age to our boyish minds. The long midsummer vacation soon arrived, and now, memory often turns fondly to that happy period. My companion and I certainly made the most of the time allowed before the coming separation.