g of a learned brother.

Then followed the noontide meal, a stroll with some younger
companions of his own age, to whom he had been specially
introduced, which led them so far afield that they only returned in
time for the vesper service, at the friary.

After the service Martin should have returned to his lodgings at
once, but, tempted by the novelty of all he saw about him, he
lingered in the streets, and saw cause to alter his opinion of the
extreme propriety of the students. Some of them were playing at
pitch and toss in the thievish corners. At least half a dozen pairs
of antagonists were settling their quarrels with their fists or
with quarterstaves, in various secluded nooks. Songs, gay rather
than grave, not to say a trifle licentious, resounded; while once
or twice he was asked: "Are you North or South?"--a query to which
he hardly knew how to reply, Kenilworth being north and Sussex
south of Oxford.

But the penalty of not answering was a rude jostling, which tried
his temper sadly, and awoke the old Adam within him, which our
readers remember only slumbered. He looked through the open door of
a tavern. It was full of the young reprobates, and the noise and
turmoil was deafening.

As he stood by the door, three or four grave-looking men came
along.

"We must get them all home, or there will be bloodshed tonight,"
Martin heard one say.

"It will be difficult," replied the other.

Into the tavern they turned, and the noise suddenly subsided.

"What do ye here, ye reprobates, that ye stand drinking, dicing,
quarrelling? To your hostels, every one of you," said the first.

Martin expected scornful resistance, and was surprised to see that
instead, all the rapscallions evacuated the place, and the
"proctors," as we should now call them, remained to remonstrate
with the host, whose license they threatened to withdraw.

"How can I help it?" he said. "They be too many for me."

"If you cannot keep order, seek another trade," was the stern
response. "We cannot have the morals of our scholars corrupted."

"Bless you, sirs, it is they who corrupt me. I don't know half the
wickedness they do."

Our readers need not believe him, the proctors did not.

But Martin took the warning, and was bent on getting home, only he
lost his way, and could not find it again. It was not for want of
asking; but the young scholars he met preferred lies to truth, in
the mere frolic of puzzling a newcomer, and sent him first