oncern minute points of their own reading and
personal matters; and they were reduced to silence with the wish to
speak.

The season had changed, and reminded them that Horsley was a place for
summer sojourn, not a dwelling. There were heavy raw fogs hanging about
the hills, and storms of wind and rain. The grass no longer afforded
them a seat; and when they betook themselves indoors it was discovered
that the doors and windows did not shut close, and that the chimney
smoked. Then came those fruits, the funeral feast of the year,
mulberries and walnuts; the tasteless, juiceless walnut; the dark
mulberry, juicy but severe, and mouldy withal, as gathered not from the
tree, but from the damp earth. And thus that green spot itself weaned
them from the love of it. Charles looked around him, and rose to depart
as a _conviva satur_. "_Edisti satis, tempus abire_" seemed written upon
all. The swallows had taken leave; the leaves were paling; the light
broke late, and failed soon. The hopes of spring, the peace and calm of
summer, had given place to the sad realities of autumn. He was hurrying
to the world, who had been up on the mount; he had lived without jars,
without distractions, without disappointments; and he was now to take
them as his portion. For he was but a child of Adam; Horsley had been
but a respite; and he had vividly presented to his memory the sad
reverse which came upon him two years before--what a happy summer--what
a forlorn autumn! With these thoughts, he put up his books and papers,
and turned his face towards St. Saviour's.

Oxford, too, was not quite what it had been to him; the freshness of his
admiration for it was over; he now saw defects where at first all was
excellent and good; the romance of places and persons had passed away.
And there were changes too: of his contemporaries some had already taken
their degrees and left; others were reading in the country; others had
gone off to other Colleges on Fellowships. A host of younger faces had
sprung up in hall and chapel, and he hardly knew their names. Rooms
which formerly had been his familiar lounge were now tenanted by
strangers, who claimed to have that right in them which, to his
imagination, could only attach to those who had possessed them when he
himself came into residence. The College seemed to have deteriorated;
there was a rowing set, which had not been there before, a number of
boys, and a large proportion of snobs.

But, what was a re