So one fine morning he set out, with a light heart and a pocket equally
light, for the infant institution from which he hoped so much.

The Board of Trustees were in session, as we learn from the account
given by one of their number, when James arrived and sought an audience.

After a little delay, the doorkeeper was instructed to bring him in.

James was nineteen at this time. He was no longer as homespun in
appearance as when he sat upon a log with Dr. Robinson, in the seclusion
of the woods, and asked his advice about a career. Nevertheless, he was
still awkward. He had grown rapidly, was of slender build, and had no
advantages of dress to recommend him. One who saw him in after-life,
with his noble, imposing presence, would hardly recognize any similarity
between him and the raw country youth who stood awkwardly before the
Board of Trustees, to plead his cause. It happens not unfrequently that
a lanky youth develops into a fine-looking man. Charles Sumner, at the
age of twenty, stood six feet two inches in his stockings, and weighed
but one hundred and twenty pounds! Yet in after-life he was a man of
noble presence.

But all this while we are leaving James in suspense before the men whose
decision is to affect his life so powerfully.

"Well, young man," asked the Principal, "what can we do for you?"

"Gentlemen," said James, earnestly, "I want an education, and would like
the privilege of making the fires and sweeping the floors of the
building to pay part of my expenses."