“I should imagine that it had not been any too pleasant even for the rich,” said Mr. Morris, shivering slightly.  But Mr. Jefferson paid no attention to the sufferings of the rich suggested by Mr. Morris, and only stirred the blazing logs uneasily.

“At any rate it serves to make our welcome here seem the warmer, sir,” said Calvert, from where he stood divesting himself of his many-caped top-coat.

“Ah! that is spoken like you, Ned!  But stand forth, sir!  Let me see if you are changed, if four years at the College of Princeton have made another fellow of my old Calvert of Strathore.”  He went over to the young man and drew him into the middle of the room, where the cold, brilliant sunshine struck full on the fine young face.  There was no shadow or line upon it.

“You are much grown,” said Mr. Jefferson, thoughtfully, “much taller, but ’tis the same slender, athletic figure, and the eyes and brow and mouth are not changed, thank God!”

“Is there no improvement, sir?  Can you note no change for the better?” said Calvert, laughing, and attempting to cover his embarrassment, at the close scrutiny he was undergoing.  “But I fear not.  I fear my college life has left as little impress on my mind as on my body.  I shall never be a scholar like you, sir,” he added, with a sigh.

“And yet, in spite of your disinclination to study, you have gone through college, and most creditably.  Dr. Witherspoon himself has written me of your career.  Does that say nothing in your favor?”

“To be sure it does,” broke in Mr. Morris, laughing.  “There is no merit in being a scholar like Mr. Jefferson here, who was born a student.  He couldn’t have helped being a scholar if he had tried.  But for you, Mr. Calvert, who dislike study, to have made yourself stick to the college curriculum for four years, I consider a great and meritorious achievement!”

“I agree with you entirely, Mr. Morris,” said Mr. Jefferson, joining in the laugh, “and as for that, Ned has done more than merely stick to the curriculum of the college.  Dr. Witherspoon, in writing me of his progress, was pleased to say many complimentary things of several excursions into verse which he has made.  He especially commended his lines on ‘A View of Princeton College,’ written something after the manner of Mr. Gray’s ‘Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College.’”

“What!” said Mr. Morris, “an ode on ‘A View of Princeton College’!  My dear Mr. Calvert, couldn’t a young man of your years find a more inspiring theme than a college building to write upon?  Instead of an alma mater, you should have chosen some filia pulchra to make verses to,” and he gave Mr. Jefferson a quizzical look.

“I agree with you again, Mr. Morris,” said that gentleman, laughing heartily, “and I think that you and I would have made no such mistake at Ned’s age,” and he sighed a little as he thought of the gay pleasures of his own youth, the dances and walks and talks with “Belinda,” and his poetic effusions to her and many another.