Sometimes Kennedy, or Owen, or Lord De Vayne, would read with him. This was always in lighter and easier authors, read chiefly for practice, and for the sake of the poetry or the story, which lent them their attraction. It was necessary to pursue in solitude all the severer paths of study; but he found these evenings, spent at once in society and yet over books, full both of profit and enjoyment. Lillyston, although not a first-rate classic, often formed one of the party; Owen and Julian contributed the requisite scholarship and the accurate knowledge, while Lillyston and De Vayne would often throw out some literary illustration or historical parallel, and Kennedy gave life and brightness to them all, by the flow and sparkle of his gaiety and wit. But it must be admitted that Kennedy was the least studious element in the party, and was too often the cause of digressions, and conversations which led them to abandon altogether the immediate object of their evening's work. Kennedy had a tendency to idleness, which was developed by the freedom with which he plunged into society of all kinds. His company was so agreeable, and his bright young face was so happy an addition to all parties, that he was in a round of constant engagements--breakfast parties, wines, supper parties, and dinners--that encroached _far_ too much on the hours of work. At school the perpetual examinations kept alive an emulous spirit, which counteracted his fondness for mental vagrancy; but at college the examinations--at least those of any importance--are few and far between; and he always flattered himself that he meant soon to make up for lost time, for three years looks an immense period to a young man at the entrance of his university career. It was nearly as necessary, (even in a pecuniary point of view), for him as for Julian to make the best use of his time; for although he was an only son, he was not destined to inherit a fortune sufficient for his support. "Just look at these cards," he said to Julian one day; "there is not one of them which hasn't an invitation scribbled on it. These engagements really leave one no time for work. What a bore it is! How do you manage to escape them?" "Well--first, I haven't such a large acquaintance as you; that makes a great deal of difference. But, besides, I make a point of leaving breakfast parties at ten, and wines at chapel-time--so that I really don't find them any serious hindrance. No hindrance, I mean, in comparison with the delight and profit of the society itself." "I wish I could make the same resolution," said Kennedy; "but the fact is, I find company so thoroughly amusing, that I'm always tempted to stay." "But why not decline sometimes?" "I don't know--it looks uncivil. Here, which of these shall I cut?" he said, tossing three or four notes and cards to Julian. "This for one," said Julian, as he read the first:--