Harclai gave his assent to the Oxford experiment, and with reluctance, to the career in the world that was to follow. Upon this last, however, he continued to be prophetic.

"Go," said he, shaking hands with De Vere; "view the world you so wish to see; if I know you, you will soon be satisfied, and soon shall we see you again at Talbois."

CHAPTER XI.

COLLEGE.

O! 'tis a parlous boy,

Bold, quick, ingenious, forward, capable!

SHAKSPEARE.

DR. HERBERT carried off his pupil in triumph to Oxford, which opened as a new world upon the senses of the then rustic De Vere. Yet were they not dazzled; nor had even a Vice-Chancellor, with his beadles and maces, more terrors for him, than the elephant of Pyrrhus for the firm-nerved Roman. He had more to encounter from the superciliousness of his fellow-students, who arrayed themselves in all the terrors of seniority over a green-horn. It was expected that he would shrink before their scrutiny. Not so; for there was a sturdy defiance in him which they by no means liked; and a very few days enabled him, (in regard to human wonders at least,) properly to appreciate all he

saw.

His independence however, appeared more strongly developed towards the higher powers, than even towards tufted or velvet capped under graduates.

At the end of the very first week, he was called upon to read what is technically denominated a theme. Recluse as he had been, this had no doubt its terrors; he, however, addressed himself to it, in all simple straight-forwardness, as a mere duty, and had no dif

ficulty but of voice to fill the hall. Now, it happened that the functionary who presided over this department, was sometimes deaf, and always peevish. On that day he was both, and, not quite hearing De Vere, sternly called out from the chair of authority, "Eloquere aut descendas." To the astonishment of the whole hall, the command was instantly obeyed, and the youth with perfect composure advancing from the desk to the high table, surrendered his theme and quietly returned to his place.

As this was in the face of the whole college, it was deemed by the tutors an act of most audacious rebellion, and a sort of drum-head court martial was held upon it, in which it was determined that a formal charge of contempt should be laid directly before the President. Dr. Herbert was therefore surprised with an address from the tutors in a body against his young friend. The answer of De Vere was simplicity itself; he meant no disrespect; he had spoken out to the utmost of his physical power, and finding he could do no more, he had obeyed the order by descending from the desk, merely as a thing of course. The tutors smiled incredulous at this apparent singleness of heart, and almost urged it as an aggravation of the offence. No young man in the University, they said, was ever so simple; to which De Vere with a sort of primitive calmness, replied, "If it is simple to tell the truth, I certainly am a simpleton."

The tutors were nettled, but it was more at his selfpossession, contrasted with their own anger, than any feeling that he was acting a part; and Dr. Herbert dismissed the complaint. The affair made a noise, was criticised, and the character of the youth differently estimated; but somehow or other, from that time all ranks agreed in giving him credit for great firmness of character; and this character he never lost. This, and his rapid acquisitions, together with an opening dignity of manner, his known high connections, and the notice of the President, soon converted the fresh man into a personage with whom no one could take a liberty; and the recluse of Talbois rose in a very short period to a full level of respectability with the most

deeply initiated, whether Soph, or fine gentleman of Eton or Westminster.

It was now that his life assumed a colouring and enjoyment, of which he had hitherto formed not even a notion. The acquisitions of learning delighted his spirit of inquiry, and the charms of elegant literature polished his taste. They softened though they did not enervate his heart. The President led him skilfully by the hand through these flowery paths, and gave him golden assistance in all his engaging objects. But he was careful in doing so, not to forget the object he always held to be of still more consequence to him-the acquisition of the sciences most necessary to those who engage in the career of business and ambition. His pleasure in observing the fine taste and high cultivation of De Vere, was not altogether unmixed, when, as he said, he saw him absorbed by them.

"You love an evening walk," said he, "and it is good; but you need not protract it into moonlight; and though it is often good to be alone, it is not good to let it make you shun society."

And when De Vere would talk of the charms of philosophy, to which he was approaching for the first time, and found, so sweet, he would reply,

"I, too, am for philosophy; but it is for that which fits us for the world, not that which teaches us to abandon it."

De Vere would agree, and please him by talking of Homer; but when he said something about lighting his lamp to Seneca, and the philosophical works of Cicero, the President would shake his head, and say he would rather it were to the Orations, or Thucydides.

He was glad, however, to find himself seconded by De Vere's own wishes in pursuing the plan originally laid down, of visiting London, and different parts of England, and even of France and Holland, during the vacations. What he saw, however, in these short intervals, only awakened his desire to see more. The charms of travelling had their usual effect; a little would not content him, where the prospect was so wide, the good so immediate, and the mode of obtaining it so pleasing. He therefore conceived the design (but faintly

opposed by Herbert, and not at all by his uncle) of visiting the whole of the Continent, and studying all its various politics and manners in a regular and lengthened system of travel, as soon as his college studies should be finished. This evidently proceeded more from his desire of general instruction and information, than any impression of its necessity in advancing his intended career. Herbert, therefore, would rather have seen him plunge at once into business, and seek these collateral advantages, as opportunity might offer. But so many things could be, and were offered on the other side, both by De Vere and Lord Mowbray, that the President gave it up, and it was determined that our future man of the world should see it in a less confined sphere than his own country, and pass a year or two on the Continent, as soon as he quitted college.

"It will retard his progress in the House of Commons," said Herbert.

"It will make him fitter for it when he does come,' said Lord Mowbray, "and meantime we shall have his effective vote through his present proxy, Mr. Bromfield."

But romantic he still was, spite of London, and even of Paris, the wonders of which opened, but did not dazzle his understanding. And here, by the entrée it afforded him to the best society, his relationship to Lord Mowbray gave him a considerable advantage. It was the only advantage it did give him.

With all this, Talbois and Needwood, and the Dove and the Trent, were never forgotten, and we may be sure Harclai and Penruddock were not unremembered. The latter, indeed, before De Vere's final departure from college, paid his great debt to nature. His grateful pupil made a journey expressly to honour his obsequies in his village church; and never did fonder or more confiding hope accompany the wish with which he engraved on his tomb the concluding words of his simple epitaph, "Requiescat in pace."

The President, however, was but half satisfied. He loved De Vere for his father's sake, and his own. He loved his high qualities, and admired his abilities; he felt, too, the necessity for his advancement, which, he

said, nothing but his too quick sensibilities could retard. He had had many rising young statesmen under his superintendence, and many who had risen, still communicated with him in confidence. He wished De Vere to add to their number.

There was one quality, among many, in the government of his college, which distinguished the President; the observation of character, and of the suitableness or unsuitableness of the friendships among the young men under his guidance. These he was often known to interfere with, and generally with advantage. Possibly next to De Vere, the young Lord Eustace enjoyed most of his favour. Indeed, it was a wonder he was not first, for he was of a very ardent and aspiring temper, and all his ardours and aspirations carried him towards the world. To shine in court and senate, to lead a party, and brandish the state's whole thunder, was thus early the declared object of his ambition. The son of a minister, he aspired to be a minister himself; and as this could only be effected through politics, party, and parliament, they were his eternal themes; and London, as their only seat, the only sphere of his thoughts.

To Windsor, indeed, where the court then resided, he was not averse: and to walk upon its terrace of a Sunday evening, in the train of royalty, he had been known to escape from the discipline of his college.

Strange to say, an intimacy grew up between Lord Eustace and De Vere, without objection, if not under the auspices of the President. But, dissimilar as they were in tastes, they had many things in common. Both had great ardour and energy; both had talents, powers, industry, and a high sense of honour; both, too, were men of birth, and both designed for public life. The President saw their dissimilarities, but thought they might temper one another, with advantage to both. He therefore rather encouraged an intimacy which nothing forbade on either side, but a mistaken pride on the part of De Vere. This pride, after some little resistance, was fairly beaten down by the experienced Herbert.

"You are courted," said he; "hence, no one can