te good nature. His temper was sanguine
and expansive, and he had been noted in college for anything but
concentration of pursuit. He was gregarious in his habits, susceptible
and subject to sudden enthusiasms. His good nature made him a victim
to all the bores and idlers in the class, and his room became a
favorite resort for men on their way to recitation, being on the
ground floor and near the lecture-rooms. They would drop in about half
an hour before the bell rang, and make up a little game of "penny
ante" around Armstrong's center-table. In these diversions he seldom
took part, as he had given it out publicly that he was "studying for a
stand"; but his abstinence from the game in no wise damped the spirits
of his guests. Occasionally his presence would receive the notice of
the company somewhat as follows:

No. 1. "Make less noise, fellows: Charley is digging out
that Puckle lesson."

No. 2. "You go into the bedroom, Charley, and shut the door,
and then you won't be bothered by the racket."

No. 3. "Oh, hang the Puckle! Come and take a hand, Charley.
We'll let you in this pool without an ante."

No. 4. "Why don't you get a new pack of cards, Charley? It's
a disgrace to you to keep such a dirty lot of old
pasteboards for your friends."

In face of which abuse, Armstrong was as helpless as Telemachus under
the visitation of the suitors. The resolute air with which he now
declared his intention of grappling with life had therefore something
comic about it, and Berkeley said, rather incredulously:

"I suppose you'll keep up your reading along with your law?"

"No," replied the other; "Themis is a jealous mistress. No; I'm going
to bone right down to it."

"Haven't you changed your ideal of life lately?" asked Clay, a little
scornfully.

"Perhaps I have," said Armstrong, "perhaps I've had to."

"What _is_ your ideal of life?" I inquired.

"Well, I'll tell you," he answered, draining his coffee-cup solemnly,
and putting it down with the manner of a man who has made up his mind.
The rest of us arranged ourselves in attitudes of attention. "My ideal
is independence," began Armstrong. "I want to live my own life; and as
the first condition of independence is money, I'm going for money.
Culture and taste, and all that, are well enough when a man can afford
it, but for a poor man it means just so many additional wants which he
can't gratify. My father is an educated