were grey, his forehead was broad, and his face, even at that early age,
clean cut as a cameo, without being pinched or thin. But perhaps his
most attractive point was his hair, which was pure gold in colour and
tightly curled over his shapely head. He cried a little when his nurse
finally tore herself away and left him with us. Never shall I forget the
scene. There he stood, with the sunlight from the window playing upon
his golden curls, his fist screwed over one eye, whilst he took us in
with the other. I was seated in a chair, and stretched out my hand to
him to induce him to come to me, while Job, in the corner, was making a
sort of clucking noise, which, arguing from his previous experience, or
from the analogy of the hen, he judged would have a soothing effect, and
inspire confidence in the youthful mind, and running a wooden horse of
peculiar hideousness backwards and forwards in a way that was little
short of inane. This went on for some minutes, and then all of a sudden
the lad stretched out both his little arms and ran to me.

"I like you," he said: "you is ugly, but you is good."

Ten minutes afterwards he was eating large slices of bread and butter,
with every sign of satisfaction; Job wanted to put jam on to them, but
I sternly reminded him of the excellent works that we had read, and
forbade it.

In a very little while (for, as I expected, I got my fellowship) the
boy became the favourite of the whole College--where, all orders and
regulations to the contrary notwithstanding, he was continually in
and out--a sort of chartered libertine, in whose favour all rules were
relaxed. The offerings made at his shrine were simply without number,
and I had serious difference of opinion with one old resident Fellow,
now long dead, who was usually supposed to be the crustiest man in the