e, and hit Mr. Adeane."

After no long while he removed within the walls of Trinity, and resided
first in the centre rooms of Bishop's Hostel, and subsequently in the
Old Court, between the Gate and the Chapel. The door, which once bore
his name, is on the ground floor, to the left hand as you face the
staircase. In more recent years, undergraduates who are accustomed to
be out after lawful hours have claimed a right of way through the window
which looks towards the town;--to the great annoyance of any occupant
who is too good-natured to refuse the accommodation to others, and too
steady to need it himself. This power of surreptitious entry had not
been discovered in Macaulay's days; and, indeed, he would have cared
very little for the privilege of spending his time outside walls which
contained within them as many books as even he could read, and more
friends than even he could talk to. Wanting nothing beyond what his
college had to give, he revelled in the possession of leisure and
liberty, in the almost complete command of his own time, in the power of
passing at choice from the most perfect solitude to the most agreeable
company. He keenly appreciated a society which cherishes all that is
genuine, and is only too out-spoken in its abhorrence of pretension and
display:--a society in which a man lives with those whom he likes,
and with those only; choosing his comrades for their own sake, and so
indifferent to the external distinctions of wealth and position that
no one who has entered fully into the spirit of college life can ever
unlearn its priceless lesson of manliness and simplicity.

Of all his places of sojourn during his joyous and shining pilgrimage
through the world, Trinity, and Trinity alone, had any share with his
home in Macaulay's affection and loyalty. To the last he regarded it as
an ancient Greek, or a mediaeval Italian, felt towards his native city.
As long as he had place and standing there, he never left it willingly
or returned to it without delight. The only step in his course about the
wisdom of which he sometimes expressed misgiving was his preference of
a London to a Cambridge life. The only dignity that in his later days he
was known to covet was an honorary fellowship, which would have allowed
him again to look through his window upon the college grass-plots,
and to sleep within sound of the splashing of the fountain; again to
breakfast on commons, and dine beneath the portraits of Newton a