ht about a reform in
the Trinity Fellowship examination that secured to it the character for
fair play, and efficiency, which it has ever since enjoyed. In his copy
of the Cambridge Calendar for the year 1859, (the last of his life,)
throughout the list of the old mathematical Triposes the words "one of
the eight" appear in his hand-writing opposite the name of each of these
gentlemen. And I can never remember the time when it was not diligently
impressed upon me that, if I minded my syntax, I might eventually hope
to reach a position which would give me three hundred pounds a year, a
stable for my horse, six dozen of audit ale every Christmas, a loaf and
two pats of butter every morning, and a good dinner for nothing, with as
many almonds and raisins as I could eat at dessert.

Macaulay was not chosen a Fellow until his last trial, nominally for
the amazing reason that his translations from Greek and Latin, while
faithfully representing the originals, were rendered into English that
was ungracefully bald and inornate. The real cause was, beyond all
doubt, his utter neglect of the special study of the place; a liberty
which Cambridge seldom allows to be taken with impunity even by her most
favoured sons. He used to profess deep and lasting regret for his early
repugnance to scientific subjects; but the fervour of his penitence in
after years was far surpassed by the heartiness with which he inveighed
against mathematics as long as it was his business to learn them.
Everyone who knows the Senate House may anticipate the result. When the
Tripos of 1822 made its appearance, his name did not grace the list. In
short, to use the expressive vocabulary of the university, Macaulay was
gulfed--a mishap which disabled him from contending for the Chancellor's
medals, then the crowning trophies of a classical career. "I well
remember," says Lady Trevelyan, "that first trial of my life. We were
spending the winter at Brighton when a letter came giving an account of
the event. I recollect my mother taking me into her room to tell me, for
even then it was known how my whole heart was wrapped up in him, and
it was thought necessary to break the news. When your uncle arrived at
Brighton, I can recall my mother telling him that he had better go at
once to his father, and get it over, and I can see him as he left the
room on that errand."

During the same year he engaged in a less arduous competition. A certain
Mr. Greaves of Fulbourn ha