"UNIVERSITY INTELLIGENCE. After a contest more severe than any known for years, MR JOHN SMITHSON, _of Trinity College, Cambridge_, has been declared THE SENIOR WRANGLER of his year. Mr Smithson is, we understand, the son of a humble curate in Norfolk, whose principal support has been derived from the exertions of his son during his residence in the University. The honour could not have been conferred on a more deserving child of Alma Mater." A hundred recollections crowded on my brain. My heart was torn with anguish. The perseverance and the filial piety of Smithson, so opposite to my unsteadiness and unnatural disloyalty, confounded and unmanned me. I burst into tears before the faithful Thompson, and covered my face for very shame. "What is the matter, lad?" exclaimed the good fellow, pale with surprise, his eye trembling with honest feeling. "Have I hurt you? Drat the paper! Don't think, Stukely, I wished to get rid of you. Don't think so hard of your old friend. I thought to help and do you service; I know you have the feelings of a gentleman about you, and I wouldn't wound 'em, God knows, for any thing. There, think no more about it. I am so rough a hand, I'm not fit to live with Christians. I mean no harm, believe me. Get rid of you, my boy! I only wish you'd say this is your home, and never leave me--that would make me happy." "Thompson," I answered, through my tears, "I am not deserving of your friendship. You have not offended me. You have never wronged me. You are all kindness and truth. I have had no real enemy but myself. Read that paper." I pointed to the paragraph, and he read it. "What of it?" he asked. "Thompson," listen to me; "what do you say of such a son?" "I can guess his father's feelings," said my friend. "Earth's a heaven, Stukely, when father and child live together as God appointed them." "But when a child breaks a parent's heart, Thompson--what then?" "Don't talk about it, lad. I have got eleven of 'em, and that's a side of the picture that I can't look at with pleasure. I think the boys are good. They have gone on well as yet; but who can tell what a few years will do?" "Or a few months, Thompson," I answered quickly, "or a few days, or hours, when the will is fickle, principles unfixed, and the heart treacherous and false. That Smithson and I, Thompson, were fellow students. We left home together--we took up our abode in the University together--we were attached to the same college--taught by the same master--read from the same books. My feelings were as warm as his. My resolution to do well apparently as firm, my knowledge and attainments as extensive. If he was encouraged, and protected, and urged forward by the fond love of a devoted household--so was I. If parental blessings hallowed his entrance upon those pursuits which have ended so successfully for him--so did they mine. If he had motive for exertion, I had not less--we were equal in the race which we began together--look at us now!"