relief from the hardships and restraints of my present condition.
For some time I was not aware of the mode in which it might be
rendered subservient to this end.



Chapter II.


My father's sister was an ancient lady, resident in
Philadelphia, the relict of a merchant, whose decease left her the
enjoyment of a frugal competence. She was without children, and
had often expressed her desire that her nephew Frank, whom she
always considered as a sprightly and promising lad, should be put
under her care. She offered to be at the expense of my education,
and to bequeath to me at her death her slender patrimony.

This arrangement was obstinately rejected by my father,
because it was merely fostering and giving scope to propensities,
which he considered as hurtful, and because his avarice desired
that this inheritance should fall to no one but himself. To me, it
was a scheme of ravishing felicity, and to be debarred from it was
a source of anguish known to few. I had too much experience of my
father's pertinaciousness ever to hope for a change in his views;
yet the bliss of living with my aunt, in a new and busy scene, and
in the unbounded indulgence of my literary passion, continually
occupied my thoughts: for a long time these thoughts were
productive only of despondency and tears.

Time only enchanced the desirableness of this scheme; my new