st, the College being
new and without muscular traditions, and the students chiefly young
men of narrow means and broad ambitions.

On the rare occasions when he had time for recreation, he either made
a few friends in the world of books--Emerson's "Essays" influenced him
most--or tried his own hand at literature. Once he even went so far as
to write a poem and send it to a Belfast newspaper, signing it "C'est
Moi." It was printed, and, being short of money at the time, he wrote
his father that his first published writing had appeared, and received
from his proud parent L10 by way of encouragement.

But his literary success was short-lived. When he tried the same
editor with another effusion signed with the same pen-name, the
unfeeling man actually printed in his columns: "'C'est Moi's' last is
not worth the paper it is written on." Alas! for the prophet in his
own country. Years afterwards he got another criticism just as harsh
from another Irish paper. It was a review of his book "These from the
Land of Sinim," and the Irish reviewer for some unknown reason rated
the book thoroughly, declared its opinions were ridiculous, its
English neither forcible nor elegant, and concluded with the biting
remark, "We hear that the writer has also composed poems which were
lost in the Peking Siege, thank God."

In 1853 Hart was ready to pass his final Degree Examinations.
They were held in Dublin, where the three newly established Irish
Colleges--Cork, Galway and Belfast--took them together. Belfast had
been fortunate the year before in carrying off several "firsts," and
the men were anxious to do as well as, or even better than on the
previous occasion. So they arranged amongst themselves that each
should cram some particular subject and try for honours in it.

Young Hart, with his character compounded of energy and ambition,
agreed to take two as his share. One was English, the other Logic,
which he had studied under the famous Dr. McCosh, which he delighted
in, and which undoubtedly developed his natural talent for getting
directly at the point of an intricate matter. He worked eighteen hours
a day during the last three weeks before the Literature Examination,
and when it came he did well--at least, so he supposed.

The rule was that only those in each class who had shown marked
ability and knowledge of their subject at the "pass" examination
should be recommended for re-examination for honours. But to his
surprise, when t