At the end of April, having passed my examination, paying £140 for the fees, I entered as a Law student in the Middle Temple, my Examiner being kind enough to say that my papers were very satisfactory. The questions in History, although requiring an effort of memory, were not beyond me, except in one instance. I was fully equal to the first question, which was: “Give a list of the Sovereigns of England from William the Conqueror to Queen Victoria, showing how, when, and in what particular there was any departure from strict hereditary succession.” Girls, no doubt, are generally taught History better than our schoolboys, for my wife laughed at me when I returned in the evening stating I had failed entirely to answer the question--“State what you know of the Pilgrimage of Grace.” A charming Queen’s Counsel examined me, and being in the room a few minutes before the hour stated, I had picked up a Virgil, and was reading it, when passing up the room, he looked over my shoulder. He said pleasantly, “Is that your favourite author?” To which I replied, “Yes, it is the only one I know.” Taking the book out of my hand, and seeing I was in the Eleventh Book of the _Æneid_, he opened it at random at the passage in the Second Book-- “Et Jam Argiva Phalanx instructis navibus ibat A Tenedo tacitæ per amica silentia lunæ.” Showing me the passage, he said, “Write out that page.” This I found easy, and when he had looked it over he said, “Well, it is a very good translation; but your rendering, ‘tacitæ per arnica silentia lunæ,’ ‘in the favouring obscurity of a moon in its first quarter,’ is somewhat free.” I said, “Yes, but I am a soldier, and over thirty years of age, and Virgil, who knew a good deal about campaigns, must have meant what I have written.” “Can you quote me any authority for ‘Lunæ tacitæ’ being a moon in its first quarter?” “Yes, Ainsworth’s Dictionary, which if everyone will not admit, is good enough for me, and I looked it out only three weeks ago.” He laughingly said, “Well, if you will tell me that you looked it out only three weeks ago, I also shall accept it.” Then he observed, “After your very frank remark about your limited knowledge, I must put you on in something else;” and to my relief he took up a “Cæsar,” which although I have not read always appears to me to be the easiest of all Latin authors, and I had no difficulty in satisfying him.