asked his uncle.

"I had my own reasons for that--may be they will be known soon, and may
be they will never be known," replied his nephew--"Whisht! there's a
foot on the stairs," he added; "it's this youth, I'm thinking."

Almost immediately a young man, in a college-gown and cap, entered, the
room, apparently the worse for liquor, and approaching the schoolmaster,
who sat next him, slapped his shoulder, exclaiming:

"Well, my jolly old pedagogue, I hope you have enjoyed yourself since
I saw you last? Mr. Corbet, how do you do? And Cassandra, my darling
death-like old prophetess, what have you to predict for Ambrose Gray,"
for such was the name by which he went.

"Sit down, Mr. Gray," said Corbet, "and join us in one glass of punch."

"I will, in half-a-dozen," replied the student; "for I am always glad to
see my friends."

"But not to come to see them," said Mrs. Cooper--"However, it doesn't
matter; we are glad to see you, Mr. Ambrose. I hope you are getting on
well at college?"

"Third place, eh, my old grinder: are you not proud of me," said
Ambrose, addressing the schoolmaster.

"I think, Mr. Gray, the pride ought to be on the other side," replied
O'Donegan, with an affectation of dignity--"but it was well, and I
trust you are not insensible of the early indoctrination you received