just begun to love with interest, and despatched to college.

The separation of the son from the father, however beneficial it might
be to the former in certain respects of education, proved fatal to the
latter. He had loved the boy even more than he knew; had learned to live
mostly in the contemplation of the youth's growth and development; and
his absence preyed upon his heart, adding to his sense of defeat in
fortune, and the loneliness and waste of his life. The solitude in which
he dwelt, after the boy's departure, he no longer desired to disturb;
and he pined as hopelessly in his absence, as if he no longer had a
motive or a hope to prompt exertion. He had anticipated this, in some
degree, when he yielded to his brother's arguments and entreaties; but,
conscious of the uses and advantages of education to his son, he felt
the selfishness to be a wrong to the boy, which would deny him the
benefits of that larger civilization, which the uncle promised, on any
pretexts. A calm review of his own arguments against the transfer,
showed them to be suggested by his own wants. With a manly resolution,
therefore, rather to sacrifice his own heart, than deny to his child the
advantages which were held out by his brother, he consented to his
departure. The reproach of selfishness, which William Colleton had not
spared, brought about his resolve; and with a labored cheerfulness he
made his preparations, and accompanied the youth to Georgia, where his
uncle had agreed to meet him. They parted, with affectionate tears and
embraces, never to meet again. A few months only had elapsed when the
father sickened. But he never communicated to his son, or brother, the
secret of his sufferings and grief. Worse, he never sought relief in
change or medicine; but, brooding in the solitude, gnawing his own heart
in silence, he gradually pined away, and, in a brief year, he was
gathered to his fathers. He died, like many similarly-tempered natures,
of no known disorder!