h a due regard for economy, in the
mathematics by his father, and in the prevailing theology of the district
by his mother. The village schoolmaster had also assisted in the
completion of his education by teaching him a little bad Latin. He was
ultimately sent to college, his parents inferring that he would make a
success of the study of books, because he had always shown a singular
inaptitude for anything else. At college he had read hard. The common
sights and sounds of University life had been unheeded by him. They
passed before his eyes, and they entered into his ears, but his mind
refused to receive any impression from them. After taking a high degree,
and being elected a fellow, he had written a novel of a strongly
melodramatic cast, describing college life, and showing such an intimate
acquaintance with the obscurer parts of it, that a great many ladies
declared that "they always thought so;--it was just as they supposed."
The novel, however, did not meet with much success, and he then turned to
the more lucrative but far less noble occupation of "coaching." He could
not be said to be absolutely unintellectual. As he had not profited by
the experience of life, so he had not been contaminated by it. He was
moral, chiefly in a negative sense, and was not inclined to irreligion.
The faith of his parents sat, perhaps, uncomfortably upon him; and he had
not sufficient strength of mind to adopt a new pattern. He was in short
an amiable mathematician, and a feeble classic; and I think that is all
that could be said of him with any certainty. There seemed to be an
absence of character which might be called characteristic, and a
feebleness of will so absolute as to disarm contempt.

A portion of Porkington's hard earned gains was transmitted regularly to
his two aged parents, while he himself, partly from habit and partly from
indifference, lived as frugally as possible.

"Bless me!" cried Mrs. Porkington, within six months of her marriage, "To
think that you should have squandered such large sums of money upon
people who seem to have got on very well without them."

"My dear," replied he, "they are very poor, and in want of many
comforts."

"Of course I am sorry they cannot have them now," retorted she, "and it
is therefore a pity they ever should have had them."

Porkington sighed slightly, but had already learned not to contend, if he
could remember not to do so. Mrs. Porkington was of large stature and