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"Qni donne an bouquet son embrace?
She replaced the book on the table, and continued her investigations among the other articles lying about. She took a long blue scarf, which I had bun"* over the mirror, and bending it round her head in the form of a turban, stood to contemplate in the glass the picture she represented. Anything more singular than this spectacle could not be conceived. The moonlight lent a pallor to her face, which otherwise her healthy complexion would scarcely have presented; and this ghastly whiteness, coupled with the long white garment she wore, looked almost hideous as contrasted with the bold blue crown which she had assumed. Preparatory, however, to placing the turban on her head, I observed her withdraw from its folds a cameo pin, which I had negligently left therein, and, as I supposed, place it on the table.
Still retaining the novel head-dress she had so ingeniously constructed, she seemed to take an inventory of my jewelry, which was likewise placed in front of the mirror. My watch, which hung from one of the mahogany knobs at the side of the glass, she detached, and held to her ear, with the manner of a child.
"Chick! chick!" I heard her murmur- "men Dieu, quelle vitesse!"
I recognized in this exclamation the same artless ness which had characterized her conversation during the day, and was reminded of the school-boy who boasted to his playmate that "he had got such a splendid watch! such a magnificent watch! he would wager it would go faster than any watch, clock, or timepiece in the town!"
Mademoiselle Denise seemed in no hurry to depart, and my suspense was momentarily becoming greater. WhaP tlje consequences might be of her suddenly awaking from this physical stupor I dared not imagine. I had heard of cases in which the somnambulist had been recalled to consciousness only to fall dead on the spot. And there were many reasons why this strange affair should not be known; to the lady herself the mortification consequent upon her being told of it would, I knew, be inexpressible. •
In a few minutes, however, I was greatly relieved by observing her unwind from her head my scarf, which she hung over the mirror in the same position she had found it. She seemed to bestow a little attention in arranging the objects on the table, probably prompted by that dim consciousness which haunts us sometimes even in dreams. She appeared to be desirous of leaving everything in the order — or in the disorder — in which it had been on her entrance; and after having done this satisfactorily, she turned and walked to the door. As she passed I saw that her dull, glassy eyes were again fixed upon my face, yet still with the same vacant, expressionless stare. She opened the door, disappeared with noiseless steps, and I was left to my own reflections.
I can scarcely tell what had prompted me to get up; but no sooner had she gone than I stepped out of bed, and went to the table which had so interested Mademoiselle Denise. Here I made a discovery which first startled me, and then amused me. My watch had disappeared, likewise my chain, cameo pin, sleeve-links, and a ring set with pearls and diamonds, the gift of my mother. I was some
what alarmed, but a moment's reflection showed me how unjust my first thought had been. Moved by some incomprehensible whim, the unconscious som- I nambulist had carried with her these trinkets, as a' child lifts whatever gay bauble presents itself to its fingers; and I felt assured that when Mademoiselle Denise awoke in the morning and found herself possessed of such strange treasures, her surprise would only be equalled by her desire to restore them to the rightful owner. Probably, I thought, she is an habitual sleep-walker; and, knowing her infirmity, will perceive at once how the jewebr came into her possession, upon which she will, of course, make instant inquiry to insure its restoration. Even in this strange circumstance there was revealed one of the principles which are supposed to govern these fits of aberration. Somnambulistt generally are interested in dreamy excursions br those things which interest them in daytime; «nd reflecting on the peculiar interest which Mademoiselle Denise had taken in my watch when it was first shown to her, I could not wonder that she should make it the subject of her regard when a peculiar fatality had drawn her towards my room, I returned to bed and slept soundly through the night.
Next morning I rose at eight, dressed, went down stairs and had the customary bowl of cafe av W served in the breakfast-room; but though I waited and read the newspaper for a considerable time, neither Mademoiselle nor her companion came into the room.
I rang the bell, and inquired of the waiter at what hour they breakfasted.
"The table-<rii6te, monsieur?"
"At eleven o'clock, monsieur."
"I shall return then."
Feeling sure of meeting mv two friends at breakfast, I resolved to spend the intervening time in exploring those portions of the town which I had not visited. The morning was very beautiful for the time of year (October), and though the cropped and regular rows of limetrees in the central square had scarcely a leaf upon them, their more fortunate neighbors on the banks of the canal-like inlet which leads down to the Gulf of Morbihan were green and pleasant in the early sunshine. This was a portion of the place I had not previously seen; and the old gateway of the massive wall, the clustering barges, the groups of women selling vegetables, and sailors lounging about the quays, were eminently picturesque. Over the gateway, in a recess, is placed » large wooden saint, brightly painted, whose glaring white eyeballs and strongly marked eyelashes produced a strange feeling of mingled amusement and horror. The artist who produced this work was perhaps influenced by the thought that those people who were not drawn to the saint by love would be moved by terror; although the rest of the holy man's countenance was exceedingly insipid and commonplace.
At the appointed hour I returned to the hotel, and walked into the long apartment where I expected to find the residents in the house sitting down to breakfast. But in place of the calm propriety and graceful decorum of such a ceremony, I found the wildest commotion and confusion. There .were a dozen people in the room, all talking »' once; while loudest of all rose the voice of the landlord, who seemed beside himself with despair. No
sooner did he observe my entrance than he sprang rather than came, and in an eager voice, which seemed paralyzed by reason of its very eagerness, he exclaimed, — "Ah, monsieur!"
"Well, what is the matter ?" said I. "Ah, monsieur!" he again cried, overcome by his emotion. "What is it? What has happened?" "I am ruined, monsieur; I am lost 1 I am thrown down, I am trampled upon, I am debased!" I suggested to M. Dutoit that his explanation, so far from being explicit, was the reverse; and that I should have to apply to some of the other gentlemen for an explanation.
"Mais non, monsieur, — c'est moi, moi, — voici le malheureux sujct qui parle 1"
But during these few seconds I had caught a few of the sentences which were being rapidly interchanged by the others. "She seemed so innocent, so ingenue !" said one. "And I, — I should never have spoken of it," said another, "but for M. Dutoit discovering the loss of his plate." "How incomparably cunning!" "How miraculously skilful!" "And by this time they may be anywhere; they must have gone by the first train in the morning." • "Of whom do they speak ?" said I to the landlord, with a sudden alarm.
"Of the gentleman, monsieur, who came yesterday evening, and of mademoiselle his friend. Ah, monsieur, I am ruined, — the honor of the hotel is gone. That any one should be robbed in my house!" "Robbed, — what do you mean?" "Last night, monsieur, mademoiselle went into a gentleman's room, — the hair loose, the eyes fixed, the face pale. She appears to sleep, monsieur he remains still and will not kill her with aifright; she takes his watch, monsieur, the watch she demanded to see last night at table. He observes not this, — be falls asleep, — this morning he misses his watch, but speaks not. Ah, well, monsieur, he expects to meet her, but she comes not; we go to awake them; they are gone, their apartments are empty; they have fled, monsieur!"
"Who is the gentleman who has thus been robbed?"
u I, monsieur," replied one of their number, stepping forward with a slight smile which was very apparently forced.
"And I also," I said, endeavoring to look quite as unconcerned, "have the honor to be your fellowsufferer."
"You, monsieur!" cried they all, having never imagined that besides the unlucky traveller and the landlord there was still another victim.
"Mademoiselle also carries off my watch, chain, ring, and some other little matters 1 But what would you have? Mademoiselle is pleased, and we are too gallant to refuse her any enjoyment."
"Mon Dieu, what courage! This Englishman is, without doubt, French, thus to smile in misfortune." "The wisest thing possible," said another, with a "for mademoiselle and her friend seem to have laid excellent plans, and by this time will be beyond all pursuit."
"With my plate," groaned the poor landlord, "and with the honor of my hotel. Monsieur, am I not a poor miserable?" Certainly M. Dutoit looked sufficiently unhappy;
nevertheless he at once prepared to rush off to the Prefet, and this occupation relieved his mind. For myself, I resigned myself to fate and a French breakfast, judging that I should hear but little further of Mademoiselle Dcnise or her friend Louis. My judgment was correct; in spite of the utmost official vigilance, nothing more was heard of the charming creature who thus suffered from a painful habit which was even more awkward to others than to herself.
Considerable interest attaches to what may be termed the " periodic phenomena" of nature. Of such a character are the appearance and disappearance of animals, as bats and badgers, which conceal themselves during the winter, and pass through a period of hibernation; the change of dress at different seasons by the ermine, the stoat, and their allies; the coming and going of the regular winter or summer migratory birds; the retirement and hibernation of reptiles; the movements of certain fish up and down stream for the purpose of spawning; the appearance, transformations, and disappearance of insects; the leafing of trees; the flowering of plants; the ripening of seeds; the fall of leaves; — all these, and more, are worthy of the attention of the lover of nature, and not beneath the dignity of man. Linnaeus constructed for himself a floral clock, in which the periods of time were indicators by the opening or closing of certain flowers. Gilbert White, and others since his time, not disdaining to be his disciples in such a work, constructed a calendar, of which periodic phenomena presented themselves to their notice. Humboldt observes of the insects of the tropics, that they everywhere follow a certain standard in the periods at which they alternately arrive and disappear. At fixed and invariable hours, in the same season, and the same latitude, the air is peopled with new inhabitants; and in a zone where the barometer becomes a clock (by the extreme regularity of the horary variations of the atmospheric pressure), where everything proceeds with such admirable regularity, we might guess blindfold the hour of the day or night by the hum of the insects, and by their stings, the pain of which differs according to the nature of the poison that each insect deposits in the wound. And the Rev. Leonard Jenyns, the naturalist, remarks,— "If an observant naturalist, who had been long shut in darkness and solitude, without any measure of time, were suddenly brought blindfolded into the open fields and woods, he might gather with considerable accuracy from the various notes and noises which struck his ears, what the exact period of the year might be."
All such observations as we have alluded to are easily made and as easily recorded, and of all, none are of more interest than the migratory movements of birds. We know that some visit us in the spring and abide during the summer; others direct their flight hither late in the autumn, and spend with us their winter. But why this change, whence do they come, and whither do they go? We can partly answer this question, but only partially. We may declare, in general terms, that self-preservation, and the perpetuation of the species, is the great moving cause. That the journey is undertaken in search of food, or a. milder climate, or both, as a consequence the former of the latter, or in search of suitable conditions for rearing their young; yet there are many special circumstances in which this answer is inapplicable or insufficient.
Knapp, in his "Journal of a Naturalist," a fitting companion to White's " Selborne," remarks of the Willow-wren: "It is a difficult matter satisfactorily to comprehend the object of these birds in quitting another region, and passing into our island. These little creatures, the food of which is solely insects, could assuredly find a sufficient supply of such diet during the summer months in the woods and thickets of those mild regions'where they passed the season of winter, and every bank and unfrequented wild would furnish a secure asylum for them and their offspring during the period of incubation. The passage to our shores is a long and dangerous one, and some imperative motive for it must exist; and, until facts manifest the reason, we may, perhaps, without injury to the cause of research, conjecture for what object these perilous transits are made."
The record of periodic phenomena made in the same district over a series of years is always of interest ; but contemporaneous records made at numerous stations, distant from each other, and in which the same kind of observations are made, would be of more interest still. Take, for instance, the first appearance of a swift for ten successive years in twenty stations between the Isle of Wight and Caithness; or the last note of the cuckoo heard between the Land's End and the Tweed. Many such trriles, apparently insignificant in themselves, become of importance when carefully and faithfully recorded, and such a work may be accomplished by those who make no pretensions to be men of science, but are content to call themselves "lovers of nature."
THE SENIOR WRANGLER.
A CAMBRIDGE EPISODE.
The senior wrangler of his year is certainly, for the time being, the greatest personage in the university. The proctors are, indeed, small in importance when compared with the gifted youth whose name appears first in the Mathematical Tripos : even the vice-chancellor himself is but a dim light when beheld by the side of that man whose profound knowledge has enabled him to excite the whole alumni of the university in mathematical science. There is a story you record which declares that a certain senior wrangler, upon going to a theatre in London fresh from his triumphs at Cambridge, imagined that the cheers which greeted her Majesty's entrance into her box were an ovation in his honor, and that, standing up on his seat, with his hand upon his heart, he bowed his thanks to the loyal and enthusiastic audience. On the whole I do not think that this youth, whoever he might be, was altogether so deserving of ridicule as may at first appear. Certainly a great gun at his university, which was his little world, as ignorant as a child, probably, of the usages of society, he might well imagine that his fame had travelled as far as the metropolis, and that a display of enthusiasm in his honor was not more than his labor, industry, and talents deserved. But to my tale. For months previous to the episode I relate, rumor with her many tongues had been busy throughout Alma Mater as to who amongst the many excellent and promising mathematical scholars of the year 18— should be fortunate enough to bind the laurel-wreath of the senior wranglership around his brows. The minds of those students who, though not happy in a talent for figures themselves, still felt an interest in
what was going on around them anent such subjects, had been perplexed and harassed by the respective claims of the various candidates for this distingniAed honor, whose names arose one after another to the surface of that kettle of gossip which was perpetually boiling beside the Cam's turgid stream. >ow it was a scholar of Trinity who was declared to be the coming man, —" The best mathematician, my dear fellow, which Trinity has ever seen," you were confidently informed; rather a bold assertion, considering the numbers of able men that large and venerable college has produced. Again, amongst a certain section a sizar of St. John's held the sway, but no Trinity man could be found to allow for one moment the merits of any individual belonging to the ancient and perpetual rival of their college. Certainly if a ruggy, unwashed, and unkempt tppearance, a palhd7 unwholesome-looking countenance, and a general mouldy and seedy exterior are any indications of the brilliancy of the talent within, the individual pointed out to me as the Johninn favorite ought to have distanced all his competitors for this great university distinction. The names of one or two small college men, whose chances were considered to be pretty equally balanced, were aim mentioned as those amongst which it was not unlikely that the senior wrangler might be found. Still nothing certain was known, and unlike the usual course of things in previous years, no one student had sufficiently—to use a sporting expression — "the call of the others " in the public favor, to warrant his college or his friends looking upon the result as at all sure. Indeed, a sporting undergraduate was heard to declare "that for the wrangler's stakes he would take the field against the favorites for a pony." By which dark and oracular saying he was supposed to intimate, that he preferred the chances that some student as yet unknown to fame might carry off the prize, rather than those of the men whose names were before the public; and that he was ready to uphold his judgment to the extent of risking, not a small horse, as the dictionary telk us the word "pony" means, but the sum of five-amitwenty golden sovereigns, as the term signifies in the phraseology of the betting ring. Such, then, was the state of affairs with reference to the senior wranglership at the close of the October term in the year to which I allude.
"I thought you would not like to dine all alone, sir, — particularly to-day," said old Tom, the porter, as I entered the hall of St. Dunstan's Collefje on Christinas-day, " so I just laid for^-ou at the sizars' table; there is only Mr. Smith beside you in college, but I reckoned as now you might perhaps think that he was better than no company at all."
"All right, Tom," I replied, as I crossed the hall to where a small table had been laid for two close to the stove, whose 'blazing fire burnt cheerful and bright, throwing a warm and comfortable glow over the otherwise gloomy and cold-looking refectory. "As you say, Mr. Smith is better than no company at all, though I doubt if we shall have much in common with one another."
"Not likely, air," said Tom; "not likely that » gentleman like you would have much to say to a poor sizar like Mr. Smith; but they do say be * mortal clever; I knows he reads mighty hard, and I should not a bit wonder if he is not high up among" the wranglers."
"Indeed," I observed carelessly, for I felt M little interest in Mr. Smith or his concerns, thong" not from the reason which the porter seemed to
imagine, but because just at that particular time I had plenty of food for my thoughts, in reflecting whether it was possible I could so make up for past idleness as to manage to scramble through the approaching examination for my degree, not indeed in the distinguished company of Mr. Smith, or any other of the great mathematical geniuses, but amidst the Browns, Joneses, and Robinsons of the poll. "Well, here comes Mr. Smith, Tom, so let us have dinner," I exclaimed, as-I saw a figure, habited in a long gown, and a cap which he wore far at the back of his head, the tassel of which hung streaming like a black cataract of silk down below, now enter the hall, and with a quick, hurried step approach the table at which I was standing.
A friend of mine once commenced a poem descriptive of the several groups to be seen between the hours of two and four in the afternoon on that well-known, well-worn university promenade, the King's Parade. I do not think this poem has ever been given to the public, but as a fair description of the manner and appearance of my dinner companion I cannot forbear quoting just two stanzas from it: —
"Here come two Dons.
That man 's from John's,
With head hung down,
And streaming gown,
"On problem vast
I'll bet he 'll solve it soon;
Whether Mr. Smith had solved the problem, be what it might, upon which his mind was at that moment bent, I do not know; but the sight of me standing in front of the stove in that attitude in which Englishmen so much delight, recalled his thoughts from the moon, if they had travelled so far, to this world below, for he started slightly, and his pale face ■— for he had lifted his head from its stooping position — flushed with surprise at seeing an undergraduate who, he probably knew, was not remarkable either for learning or industry, actually about to dine in hall on Christmas-day. Seeing his look of astonishment, I said, perhaps with a slight degree of patronage in my tone, "Old Tom tells me that you and I are two unfortunates left all alone in our glory in this gloomy old college, at this joyous and festive season. I propose, therefore, if you have no objection, that we should dine together; For it would be truly unsociable if we were to sit down to our meal, each in solitary grandeur at our respective tables."
"O, certainly, I shall be most happy," replied the sizar in a very sweet and gentle voice, as he made a step forward, and advanced to warm himself at the stove, where I had made room for him. It was my torn now to look astonished, for I had never expected tones almost as soft and gentle as a woman to proceed from any one possessing such an uncouth exterior. I looked, doubtless, as surprised as I felt, for Smith rubbed his hands nervously together as, stooping down, he held them to the fire. As he stood in this position, the light falling directly upon his face, showed me, spite of its paleness, and the lines telling of deep thought and hard study, if of nothing else, which it bore, was a very prepossessing one, for the brow was white and lofty, the features
regular, whilst a touching expression of tender, gentle melancholy pervaded the whole.
But just at this moment dinner was placed upon the table, and I deferred the contemplation of Mr. Smith's countenance until I had in some measure appeased an appetite which an excellent constitution and the cold, bracing weather had gifted me with. During our repast, Smith, though by no means anxious to lead the conversation, appeared ready enough to talk when spoken to, and the soft, sweet tones of his voice fell with such a peculiarly pleasant sound upon my ear that I did my best to draw him out, and encouraged him as much as possible to speak of himself and his studies. He told me that he was reading very hard, indeed he had done so ever since he came up to the university; that he was in great hopes of being able to obtain such a position in the honor tripos as would enable him to obtain a fellowship, and thus provide him with the means of supporting in comfort a widowed mother and invalid sister, who were now almost entirely dependent upon his exertions for the necessaries of life. At the mention of his mother and sister the student's pale, rather melancholy face was lighted up with such a bright, beaming smile, and he spoke with such deep feeling about them, that, thoughtless as I was at the time, I could not help being struck with admiration at the poor sizar's filial and brotherly devotion, and a qualm passed through my conscience when I considered that my own mother and sisters would be but badly off if they had to depend upon my exertions and industry for their support.
In return for such confidences as he bestowed upon me, I related to my new acquaintance the difficulties I was in with regard to the approaching examination for my degree, and I declared my firm conviction that, so hard to understand were certain subjects which I had to get up, that it would be perfectly impossible that I could succeed in passing safey through the much-dreaded ordeal.
Most good-naturedly my companion offered, if I liked, to endeavor to explain the, to me, obtuse sciences, a knowledge or ignorance of which would tend to decide my fate. He also told me that during the long vacations he had devoted his time to taking pupils, and that he had been very successful in clearing away the difficulties which surrounded those subjects which I so much dreaded, and which I found so hard to understand. So impelled was I towards him by the sweet gentleness of his voice and manner, that, wishing to see more of one who had so irresistibly attracted me, I gladly accepted his offer, and with many thanks declared my readiness to avail myself of his assistance. After our meal was over, I said, linking my arm in his, " Come, my dear Smith, let us go up to my rooms and have a glass of wine; you can then explain to me some of those horrid subjects which I have to get up." A return of his nervous, shy manner, which had in a great measure disappeared towards the latter part of our social dinner, seized upon Smith at my proposition, for, hurriedly withdrawing himself from my arm, he said, —
"O no! thank you, I am much obliged, not now; I have very little time to spare, and wine would only make me sleepy, as I am unaccustomed to any stimulant stronger than tea."
"Well," I exclaimed, " your offer of helping; me is too good a one for me to lose sight of it, and I am a great deal too ignorant of those things which you have promised to explain to me not to seek your
assistance; so if you will not come to my rooms, I will go with you to yours."
At this proposal of mine Smith blushed scarlet, and looked most uncomfortable, whilst in an earnest, imploring voice, he said, —
"O dear, no! you must not come to my rooms; if I can help you, I will, come to you; but — but—" and he paused, as if reflecting for a moment, and then continued, "Well, perhaps there is no time like the present, and a change from constant study and learning one's self to teaching another may refresh and do me good."
"To be sure," I said; "nothing like a rest. When I am tired of grinding at Euclid, algebra, and such things, I get on a horse and have a good gallop, and you cannot think how much good it does me."
Smith smiled at this remark of mine, whilst he replied, —
"I do not think galloping on horseback would be much rest to me, as I should most likely tumble off, for I have never been on horseback in my life."
I dare say I looked astonished; for any one to have reached the age of manhood, and never to have been on the outside of a horse, as our set used to call riding, was to my mind a wonder indeed. My companion merely said, in his gentle way, "I have had too much dependent upon my exertions, since my poor father died, to enable me ever to indulge in so expensive an amusement as riding."
I led the way to my rooms, and when there insisted upon my tutor, as Smith was now to be, taking some wine, for I felt sure a glass of such good port as I flattered myself mine was, would invigorate and do the pale student good. For the next few days Smith came regularly to my rooms, after dinner in hall; and I had the satisfaction of thinking that the great benefits which his judicious explanations conferred upon me were in some slight measure returned by the good which the single glass of wine (for he would never take more) which I insisted upon his drinking, did him. The eventful day on which the examination for honors commenced at length arrived, and the sizar told me, as he came out of chapel in the morning, that whilst the examination lasted he should be obliged to relinquish his assistance to me. Of course I could not wish my kind instructor to imperil the result of his examination for my sake; but as I thanked him for his past kindness and efforts in my behalf, I said, "I shall be very anxious, my dear fellow, to hear how you get on, so let me know if you possibly can."
For the next few days I saw nothing of my newly found acquaintance. Many men who were engaged in the schools then going on, and who had run down home for a few days at Christmas, had again returned to Cambridge; and the college hall, which a short time before, when Smith and I dined together, was so still and quiet, again assumed somewhat of its ordinary noise and bustle. The pale student evidently avoided me; and, without going to his rooms, from which I shrank in consequence of the dread he seemed to have of my doing so, I could not obtain an opportunity of speaking to him. At length I resolved to know how he was acquitting himself, though I was even obliged to violate his wishes, and seek him in the privacy of his own rooms to do so. It was a dreadfully cold night, the thermometer below zero, and the snow and sleet beating in my face, as I crossed the quad to the staircase where Smith's garrets (for the sizars' rooms in St. Dunstan's are worthy of no better appellation) were situated, ascending the creaking old
rickety stairs, only lighted by the flickering light of the gas-lamp below. "Bless me!" I exclaimed, u I broke my shin over a coal-box which some careless gyp had left upon the landing, — " bless me, how dark it is up here t I suppose the authorities do not allow the sizars the oil-tamps which burn on the other staircases." After stumbling about in the dark, I at length reached the door of Smith's domicile, rapped, but without waiting to be bidden to enter, opened it and went in. I was certainly shocked at the sight which met my gaze. The room was without carpet or curtains; the furniture consisted of only two chairs and an old table, at which, wrapped in an old, rusty, moth-eaten raihm rug, looking paler and thinner than when I had last seen him, my friend was seated, studying by the light of the oil-lamp which he had taken from the staircase, thus accounting for the darkness and Uk breakage of my shin. Not one morsel of fire was in the grate; indeed it looked, as I found out afterwards was actually the case, as if it had had Do fire in it for a long time; the poor sizar begrudging himself the commonest necessaries of life to enable him to send the proceeds of his well-earned scholarships to his widowed parent and ailing sister.
Smith started to his feet as he recognized me; the bright flush which had suffused his face on my proposing a few days before to accompany him to his rooms, again took possession of it, as he said, with a touch of annoyance in his tone, though still with the same soft and gentle voice, " O, why did you come here, when I asked you not to do so? This is not kind, when I do not want you." I Wm conscious that my presence was an intrusion; but, as my motives were pure and honest interest in my new friend's welfare, I felt less awkward and confused than I might otherwise have done. "Mf dear fellow," I replied, " believe me, I have no wish to intrude upon you; I was anxious to know how you got on in the examination, and, as you avoided me in public, I am therefore compelled to seek you in the privacy of your own rooms, if I would obtain any information concerning you."
The sweet, gentle smile again stole over his face, as, looking at me as though, with his large, melancholy, yet deeply-sunken eyes, he would read my sincerity in my face, he said, " It is very good of you to feel an interest in me. I have done even better than I expected, thank you; and if I can only nunage to keep up during the next few days, I shall, I trust, have acquitted myself well; but I do not feel very well, and I have a dread which I cannot ibakt off lest I should break down before my work is over."
As he said this, he placed his hand upon his brow, and sank his head upon the table.
"Cheer up, my dear fellow," I said; "you «*' peg too low, as some of our men say. You want» short rest; just come over to my rooms and click me a little; I sadly want it, and the change from one occupation to another will do you good.
After a long resistance, as he saw he could not get rid of me on any other terms, Smith consented, and I led him in triumph to my rooms, where I took care that he should get thoroughly warm; which be did with the assistance of a good fire, supper, and some brandy and water. When be became more himsel), we read together for an hour or more, as I wished it to appear — as, indeed, was really the case — that I was the person under obligations, and not him. & ter our reading was over, taking his hand, I said,—
"Smith, you cannot think how much good jow