e carriage stopped at the grand Norman archway of the court. The
school porter--the Famulus as they classically called him--a
fine-looking man, whose honest English face showed an amount of thought
and refinement above his station, opened the gate, and, consigning
Walter's play-box and portmanteau to one of the school servants,
directed Mr Evson across the court and along some cloisters to the
house of Dr Lane, the headmaster. The entering of Walter's name on the
school books was soon accomplished, and he was assigned as private pupil
to Mr Robertson, one of the tutors. Dr Lane then spoke a word of
encouragement to the young stranger, and he walked back with his father
across the court to the gate, where the carriage was still waiting to
take Mr Evson to meet the next train.

"Please let us walk up to the top of the hill, papa," said Walter; "I
shan't be wanted till tea-time, and I needn't bid good-bye to you here."

Mr Evson was as little anxious as Walter to hasten the parting. They
had never been separated before. Mr Evson could look back for the rare
period of thirteen years, during which they had enjoyed, by God's
blessing, an almost uninterrupted happiness. He had begun life again
with his young children; he could thoroughly sympathise alike with their
thoughts and with their thoughtlessness, and by training them in a
manner at once wise and firm, he had been spared the greater part of
that anxiety and disappointment which generally spring from our own
mismanagement. He deeply loved, and was heartily proud of, his eldest
boy. There is no exaggeration in saying that Walter had all the best
gifts which a parent could desire. There was something very interesting
in his appearance, and very winning in his modest and graceful manners.
It was impossible to see him and not be struck with his fine open face,
and the look of fearless and noble innocence in his deep blue eyes.

It was no time for moral lectures or formal advice. People seem to
think that a few Polonius-like apophthegms delivered at such a time may
be of great importance. They may be, perhaps, if they be backed-up and
enforced by previous years of silent and self-denying example; otherwise
they are like seed sown upon a rock, like thistle-down blown by the wind
across the sea. Mr Evson spoke to Walter chiefly about home, about
writing letters, about his pocket-money, his amusements, and his
studies, and Walter knew well beforehand, without any r