Near the close of a bright June afternoon, two boys were slowly sauntering along a narrow, grass-grown road conducting through a dense oak wood to and from the old Washington Henry Academy, a very venerable, if not a very renowned seat of learning, in the county of Hanover, Virginia. The arm of each was thrown over the neck of the other in the familiar and affectionate manner so common to boys who are very particular friends; and between them they held an open letter, a passage in which one was pointing out to the other. The one to whom the letter evidently belonged was a remarkably handsome youth, with a delicate, graceful figure, regular and aristocratic features, a pale olive complexion, and jetty hair and eyes. But although in the formation of his face nature had strictly adhered to the laws of beauty, yet from within, the soul, in its outbeaming, had imprinted upon this otherwise fair index, some things less agreeable than the perfect lines and curves of the beautifully chiseled features.