flowing down the centre. Portraits of old
divines, in ugly skull caps, hung on the walls
of the staircase, and at the bottom of a
passage I found the bell that I had set in
motion, still swinging faintly in a corner.
My guide pushed open a door, and then
another door, covered with black cloth and
studded with nails; and I found myself in a
long room lined with books on shelves, and
saw a young lady sitting writing at a table at
the bottom.

"A blue stocking," thought I; for she
dipped her pen into the great round pewter
inkstand, and went on writing without
seeing us; but my guide went forward, and
she looked up.

"Mr. Thaine is not in, miss?" I said.

"No, sir. ls it anything about the
library?"

"About the scholarships——"

"O yes. There will be no examination till
next October; for the last examination has
just taken place. You can send in your
testimonials. You will be examined in the
Iliad—first four books; the Antigone and
the Medea; and generally in Horace, Virgil,
Tacitus, and Terence. In English, the
authors are Paley, Locke, and Lardner. There
are some other subjects which you will find
in this paper." She looked very serious, as
if it was quite natural for a young lady to
know all about such things; and then putting
her hair behind her ears, she bent forward,
and went on with her writing. I was awed.
I had been taught to consider a learned
woman as necessarily something old and
ugly: a pretty young lady who could speak
so familiarly of the classics deprived me of
utterance. I could only stammer out " Good
morning," and retreat.

I found by the paper she had given me
that the successful competitors were allowed
a bursary of forty pounds per annum, for
their support during their studies—not a large
sum, truly; but many great scholars that I
could call to mind would, at one period of
their lives, have thought themselves rich
with such an income; and in Scotland
perhaps it would be a fortune. I almost
wished it had been less—for how noble it reads
in the life of a scholar, that he nourished his
body with bread and water, while his mind
banqueted with the wisest and the mightiest.
The following day I presented myself again
at the library, and saw Mr. Thaine the
librarian. He was a man in the prime of
life, tall, and dressed like a clergyman. There
was a certain severity in his tone and manner,
which struck me at first: but it wore off when
I had explained to him the object of my
ambition.

"Are you well versed in the authors in
which you will be examined? " he asked.

"In some of them." I said.

"You must lose no time, then. There is
rarely a great competition; indeed, we have
had no applicants on some occasions. But
the examiners will not appoint you unless
you show considerable proficiency."

"If I have only health," I answered, " I
doubt not of being ready."

My confidence seemed to please him. He
offered me the use of the library; and,
promising to assist me in any way in his power,
he bade me good morning.

And now behold me wandering no more
in galleries and museums, loitering no more
at shop windows, reading no more in Inns of
Court! That feeling of vagabondage which
pursues the idler in a bustling city was gone.
I could sit in my solitary room, poring over
my beloved books all day, and feel no jealousy
of the crowd who went about their own business
and left me to myself. Whatever might be
my ulterior object—whether I might become
a college professor, a tutor, or a lawyer—I
too was doing my part, with that individual
perseverance, by which the great aggregate
business of life is carried on. From early
morning till night I pursued my studies near
my window, looking out sometimes for a few
moments upon the quiet street, and the great
house opposite, which seemed to me now the
only Temple of Fame. I rarely went out,
unless it was to cross the road to refer to
some book in the library. I did not often
see there the young lady that I had spoken to
the first time; but the librarian visited me,
and chatted with me upon the authors I was
reading, till, by degrees he grew more
friendly with me. One day he said, " Would
to Heaven I had still a son who would devote
himself as you do to the pursuit of a worthy
object!"

"You have only daughters," I said, for I
had seen several young ladies, younger than
the first.

"I had a son once," he replied, " but"—he
paused a moment, and then added, " he is
dead." His voice faltered and his agitation
was so evident, that I thought his loss must
have been recent, but he did not wear mourning.
Such a display of tenderness in a man
who had at first seemed to me naturally stern,
surprised me; but I said nothing, and soon
afterwards he left me abruptly. I read in the
library for some time, but he did not come
back. The next time I found his daughter
there, and asked her if her father was at home,
but she said that he had left London for a few
days.

"Perhaps," I said, "you can direct me
where to find an Euripides with the best
notes;" and then she smiled, and said, "I think
I can; our catalogue is very incomplete."
She went to a shelf and took down a book.
"There is the best edition, I believe."

She looked at me, and seeing me smiling in
my turn, she divined my thoughts. " You
think it very strange to find I know these
books," she said. " But I am not such a blue
stocking as I seem."

"A lady will never admit that she
understands Greek," I said.