MY TERMINAL MORAINE

A man's birth is generally considered the most important event of his
existence, but I truly think that what I am about to relate was more
important to me than my entrance into this world; because, had not these
things happened, I am of the opinion that my life would have been of no
value to me and my birth a misfortune.

My father, Joshua Cuthbert, died soon after I came to my majority,
leaving me what he had considered a comfortable property. This consisted
of a large house and some forty acres of land, nearly the whole of which
lay upon a bluff, which upon three sides descended to a little valley,
through which ran a gentle stream. I had no brothers or sisters. My
mother died when I was a boy, and I, Walter Cuthbert, was left the sole
representative of my immediate family.

My estate had been a comfortable one to my father, because his income
from the practice of his profession as a physician enabled him to keep
it up and provide satisfactorily for himself and me. I had no profession
and but a very small income, the result of a few investments my father
had made. Left to myself, I felt no inducement to take up any profession
or business. My wants were simple, and for a few years I lived without
experiencing any inconvenience from the economies which I was obliged
to practice. My books, my dog, my gun and my rod made life pass very
pleasantly to me, and the subject of an increase of income never
disturbed my mind.

But as time passed on the paternal home began to present an air of
neglect and even dilapidation, which occasionally attracted my attention
and caused, as I incidentally discovered, a great deal of unfavorable
comment among my neighbors, who thought that I should go to work and
at least earn money enough to put the house and grounds in a condition
which should not be unworthy the memory of the good Dr. Cuthbert. In
fact, I began to be looked upon as a shiftless young man; and, now and
then, I found a person old enough and bold enough to tell me so.

But, instead of endeavoring to find some suitable occupation by which I
might better my condition and improve my estate, I fell in love, which,
in the opinion of my neighbors, was the very worst thing that could have
happened to me at this time. I lived in a thrifty region, and for a man
who could not support himself to think of taking upon him the support of
a wife, especially such a wife as Agnes Havelot would be, was considered
more than folly and looked upon as a crime. Everybody knew that I was in
love with Miss Havelot, for I went to court her as boldly as I went to
fish or shoot. There was a good deal of talk about it, and this finally
came to the ears of Mr. Havelot, my lady's father, who, thereupon,
promptly ordered her to have no more to do with me.