, but you ought at least to remember your
old fags."

The change of countenance between fifteen and eighteen is however very
great, and it was not without an effort that Bruce recalled in the tall
strong fellow who was talking to him his quondam fag, little Walter
Thornley, now in his turn captain of the eleven, and Head of the school,
whose admiration of Bruce we have already recorded in the first chapter
of this eventful history.

"Where are you off to now?" said Thornley.

"To the Doctor's."

"Well, you'll come and see me afterwards?"

Bruce promised and then walked to see the Doctor, and his old tutor. To
both he opened his piteous tale, and both of them gave him the most
generous and liberal assistance; they promised also to procure him such
other aid as might lie in their power. A little lighter in heart, he
went to pay his visit to Thornley, whom he found occupying his old
rooms. As Bruce recrossed the familiar threshold, the contrasts of past
and present were almost too much for him, and he found it difficult to
restrain his tears. He stayed but a short time, and then returned to
London to his poor and lonely lodgings.

Walter Thornley heard his story from the tutor, and besides getting a
large subscription for him among his own friends, wrote to ask if Julian
could procure for the emigrant any assistance in Camford. Julian
received the letter about the middle of the October term in his third
year, and it ran thus:--

"DEAR HOME--Beyond knowing by rumour that I am head of the school, you
will, I suppose, hardly remember a boy who was so low in the school as
I was when you were monitor. But though you will perhaps have
forgotten me, I have not forgotten you, or the many kinds acts I
experienced from you and Lillyston when I was a little new fellow.
Remembering these, I am emboldened to write, and ask if you or any of
the old Hartonians are willing to assist poor Bruce to settle in New
Zealand, now that he has no chance of succeeding well in England? I
am sure that _you_ personally will be glad of any opportunity to help
an old school-fellow in his distress and difficulty, for report tells
me that Julian Home is as kind-hearted and generous as he was when he
won the Newry scholarship at Harton.--Believe me to be, my dear Home,
yours very truly,--WALTER THORNLEY."

Julian had almost forgotten the very existence of Thornley when this
letter recalled him to his mind; but it