and mingled with the sobs of
childhood. Men, women, youth, and little children alike wept, when their
pastor departed from the village. He who had been the shepherd of his
flock so long, was now cast aside as a worthless thing, and the old
man's heart was wellnigh broken. In a rude cot, forced on his acceptance
by a wealthy parishioner, situated some eight or ten miles from the
scene of his happiness, he took up his abode, and to him would the
villagers still throng each Sabbath, as formerly to the humble church,
and old Myrvin, in the midst of his own misfortunes, found time to pray
for that misguided and evil-directed man who had succeeded him in his
ministry, and brought down shame on his profession, and utterly
destroyed the peace which Llangwillan had enjoyed so long.

Resignation by degrees spread over Myrvin's mind, but the conduct of his
son caused him fresh anxiety. The news of the change in his father's
life awakened Arthur from his lethargy; he saw the folly, the imprudence
of which he had been guilty; his father could no longer support him at
college. In three years he had squandered away that which, with economy,
would have served as maintenance for ten, and now he must leave the
college, or do that from which at first his very soul revolted; but the
image of his father, his injured father, rose before him. He could not
inflict upon him a disappointment so severe as his departure from
college would be. He would yet atone for his folly, and fulfil his
father's long-cherished hopes, and without consulting him, in a moment
of desperation, he sought the resident head of the University, and
imparted his wishes. The preliminaries were quickly settled, and the
next letter from Oxford which Mr. Myrvin received, contained the
intelligence that his son had reconciled his mind to the change, and
become a servitor.

A glow of thanksgiving suffused the old man's heart, but he knew all the
inward and outward trials with which his son had to contend. Had he at
the first joined the college in the rank which he now held, he might not
have felt the change so keenly; but as it was, the pride and haughtiness
which had characterised him before, were now, as we have seen, returned
tenfold upon himself. He clothed himself outwardly in an invulnerable
armour of self-control and cold reserve, but inwardly his blood was in
one continued fever, until the friendship of Percy and Herbert soothed
his troubled feelings. The name of Hami