Snowstorm, and thaw, and frost, and sun, came after and after each other, and as surely and constantly the various calls upon Winthrop's time; and every change seemed to put itself between him and his books.

Mr.Landholm was kept late in Vantassel, by a long session, and the early spring business came all upon his son's hands.
Letters were rather infrequent things in those days, waiting, as they usually did, for private carriage.

It was near the end of March that the rare event of two letters in one day happened to the quiet little household.
Winthrop got one at the post-office, with the Vantassel mark; and coming home found his mother sitting before the fire with another in her hand, the matter of which she was apparently studying.
"A letter, mamma ?" "Yes -- from Will." "How did it come ?" "It came by Mr.Underhill." "What's the matter?
what does he say ?" "Not much -- you can see for yourself." "And here's one from papa." Mrs.Landholm took it, and Winthrop took Rufus's.
"Little River, March 18, 1809.
"What does papa mean to do?
Something must be done, for I cannot stay here for ever; neither in truth do I wish it.

If I am ever to make anything, it is time now.

I am twenty-one, and in mind and body prepared, I think, for any line of enterprise to which fortune may call me.