inspiring person as Benson.

So he set himself to work, attending lectures by day, reading every
night into the small hours, spending scarcely anything, shrinking from
all acquaintanceships, taking only a minimum of recreation, and living
almost the life of a hermit, until I could see his cheeks grow pale, and
his eyes dark round the rims, and feared for his health.

He treated me uniformly well. Of course, as the gift of his fellow-
villagers, he prized me highly, but by no means consigned me to the
stately repose of a purely ornamental treasure. I lay nightly beside
his elbow on the table, and counted for him the hours as they sped from
night to morning. I lay beneath his pillow at night, and helped him to
rise betimes. I insured his punctual attendance at lectures, and drove
him home from his scanty walks in the fresh air more quickly than I
myself would have cared to do if I could have helped it. In short, I
found myself in the satisfactory position of one thoroughly useful in
his sphere of life, and on the whole, though my first young master
returned constantly to my thoughts, I contrived to be very happy in my
new capacity.

Two events, however, both of a pleasant nature, served to vary the
monotony of George's second term at college. The first of these was a
visit from his friend and patron, Dr Wilkins, the rector of
Muggerbridge.

George was sitting at his modest breakfast one morning, when his door
suddenly opened, and the well-known and beloved face of his old tutor
lit up the apartment.

My master sprang to his feet, and with unaffected joy rushed forward to
welcome his guest, before it had do much as occurred to him into what
uninviting quarters he was receiving him.

"How good of you to come, sir!" he cried. "I never expected such
happiness."

"You don't suppose I should go through Cambridge and never beat up your
quarters, my boy! But, dear me, how ill you are looking!"

"Am I? I don't feel ill."

"Humph! you're overdoing it. But aren't you going to offer me some
breakfast?"

George coloured, and his spirits sank as his eyes fell on the scanty
fare of which he himself had been partaking.

"It's only bread-and-butter," he said.

"And what better?" said Dr Wilkins, sitting down; "and I warrant the
butter's good if it's your mother's making."

"So it is," said George, beginning to recover his spirits. "And how did
you leave them at home, sir?"

"First-rate, my boy;--looking much