Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1889-09-23

Verv end oil Ine last century, anu, diVei 0NN
cessivelv filling the posts of Scholar, Fellow,
and Tutor of his college, with great credit to
himself, his college, and his university, had
in his old age, despairing of ever obtaining
the Mastership, accepted the living OF VII
bury. There in the little village, hldoen
away in a narrow yalley that ran ike
long furrow through the plains OF Down
shire, the brilliant mathematician mao
passed the evening of his life, forgotten py
the world, buried in his books, correspond
inc with a few learned societies, and giving
his narisbioners a kindly nod and word or
reel, davs. and on Sundays sermon which
they valued all the more because they could
not understand its learning.
The end had been expected for some time,
and vet there was no little commotion in
the Combination Room of ST. Martins when
his death was officially notified to the col
lege: for twas a tradition that the living,
although it was of no great value, should be
held by a scholar of reputation and attain
ments. For nearly two centuries success
sion of the most learned men in the college
had retired to spend their last days in the
old rectorv on the edge of the Downs; and to
have the refusal of the living was high
compliment, and an honor that set the seal
to a notable career.
That evening after Hall, the Combination
Room was fuller than usual; the younger
Fellows, instead of looking in for moment
and then hurrying off TO some musical
party, or returning to wife and family IN
brand-nev villa residence in the outskirts,
hung about in groups talking nervousiy and
fidgeting from ore leg to the other, avoid
ing the topic of the vacant living, and yet
unwilling to go and leave the held TO
Others Not that there was any great
choice of candidates for the DoWnshlre rec
tory; most of the junior Fellows were lay-
men and the senior Fellows who were In
orders either held college offices or better
livings than Wilburv.
The Bursar. the master-mind of the col
lece. sat in his accustomed armchair by the
the fire. every now and then glancing with
grim amusement al the unwonted assem-
blage, but uttering no word. Opposite TO
him sat the senior Tutor, thin shy man,
with a painfully nervous manner, whose
habtual unrest was aggravated BY the feel
ing that all men were thinking of him as
the new rector. He sat twiddling his fingers
anu SudDluS NlG OdclASo VI MS tOhAh AZ NAiS
glowing embers Of the fire with twitching
lips and elevated brows. The younger Eel
lows stood in a wide circle round the hearth
or by the table, discussing the situation in
low tones. until the old French clock that
ticked solemnly on the mantel-piec
warned them that the occupants of the
modern villas were awaiting their
coming with impatience. One by
one they trooped out until only the usual
three or four renamed. and then at last the
Bursar spoke: 81 suppose you will take the
rectory, Bowles?"
The Tutor started guiltily from his day
dream. "No, think not, !" he stammered.
81 am too old; am untitled; and could not
leav, the college"
We'll, well. Best have some leaven in
the mass" growled Roebuck, the Bursar,
glancing contemptuously toward the door,
which had just closed on the youngest Eel
low.
"Poor old Cawthorn!'' went on the Tutor
after a pause; she was clever man."
BORA three-quarters of a century too
soon. II he had deferred his entry into the
world, he might have had as many pups
and have made as much money as any
coach in the universIty,-I think that is
the correct form of words, is it not, Nal
ton ?"
The man addressed by the Bursar an
swered in low, soft voice rather labored in
its precision of accent and phraseology: Il
believe so; have heard some such expires.
sion made use Of by members of this col
lege."
There are few men of his standing LETT
said the tutor, still thinking of the late
rector. 81 suppose it will be offered to
Thompson"
'He won't take it." said Roebuck; "his
own place is much better, and not such an
exile.-You'll have to take it, Bowles.''
81? Oh no. L should never make a
parish priest; could not live away from
the college"
"Then Nation must have it."
Nation blushed. He was man not much
over 80, with small eyes, no features to
speak OF, complexion like pale yellow
soap, and on each cheek a wisp of black
whisker that looked as if it had accidentally
slipped down from his hair. He hesitated,
and muttered something about the offer be-
ing great compliment. Here was new
idea, and one that seemed likely to be the
ultimate solution of the difficulty. Some
how the suggestion seemed to have put an
end to the conversation. They sat in
silence, looking into the fire and turning
the matter over in their minds but without
pursuing the subject any further. AS
usual, Nation was the first to retire, leav-
ing the two elder men sitting BY the fire.
with the founder of the college, a chan
cellor, three bishops and several noblemen
looking solemnly down at them from the
walls.
The Rev. Joseph Nation went back to his
rooms with his mind in an unusual state of
ferment. He lighted his lamp, which his
gyp had placed ready for him, and seating
himself at his desk, tried to take up the
thread OF his work as on every other even
ing. He was engaged on learned treatise.
which the undergraduates averred dealt
completely and exhaustively with the
subtler properties of the common pump:
but his hand had lost its cunning and
strange visions kept floating before his
eyes. He sighed, put away his papers, and
drawing his heavy armchair nearer to the
fire, settled himself down to read-but to no
purpose. The Bursar's suggestion that he
should be the new rector of Wilbury had
strangely agitated him. After all, vhv |
should he not take It, and-he only thought
it in a whisper-marry? 1t was true he could
marry as he was; but the position of a married
Fellow, with a wife and family in a
draughty villa outside the town, did not
appeal to his imagination; whereas the
status of rector in country parish seemed |
TO him full of dignity and of ali that gives
interest to life. The book he was irving to |
read slipped from his grasp and slid into
the fender; but he took no heed of il. he |
was so absorbed in his reflections. BE was |
IS. aud Fellow, Dean and Classical Lecturer
of st. Martins. He had almost reached |
the summit of his ambition: but never till |
that evening had the idea of merging the |
college don in the country rector crossed his
mind.
The entry of his gyp Turner to put out the |
fea-things and give q last Look rnnnd inter