"What a charming place this field is," he said, "on a summer evening, while the sunset lets fall upon it the last innocuous arrows of its golden sheaf. When I am wearied to death with work or vexation--which, alas! is too often--I always run down here, and it gives me a fresh lease of life." Julian smiled at his tutor's metaphorical style of speech, which he knew was in him the natural expressions of a glowing and poetic heart, that saw no reason to be ashamed of its own warm feelings and changeful fancies; and Mr Carden, wrapped in the scene before him, and the sensations it excited, murmured to himself some of his favourite lines-- "Alas that one Should use the days of summer but to live, And breathe but as the needful element The strange superfluous glory of the air Nor rather stand in awe apart, beside The untouched time, and murmuring o'er and o'er In awe and wonder, `These are summer days!'" "Shall we stroll across the fields, sir, before lock-up?" said Julian, as a triumphant shout proclaimed that the game was over, and the Parkites had defeated the Grovians. "Yes, do. By the bye, what was it that you had to ask me about?" "Oh, sir, I don't think I've told you before; but I'm going up to Saint Werner's as a sub-sizar." Mr Carden looked surprised. "Indeed! Is that necessary?" "Yes, sir; it's a choice between that and not going at all. And what I wanted to ask you was, whether it will subject me to much annoyance or contempt; because, if so--" "_Contempt_, my dear fellow!" said Mr Carden quickly. "Yes," he added, after a pause, "the contempt of the contemptible--certainly of no one else." "But do you think that any Harton fellows will cut me?" "Unquestionably not; at least, if any of them do, it will be such a proof of their own absolute worthlessness, that you will be well rid of such acquaintances." Julian seemed but little reassured by this summary way of viewing the matter. "But I hope," he said, "that no one, (even if they don't cut me), will regard my society as a matter of mere tolerance, or try an air of condescension." "Look here, Julian," said the master; "a sub-sizar means merely a poor scholar, for whom the college has set apart certain means of assistance. From this body have come some of the most distinguished men whom Saint Werner's has ever produced; and many of the Fellows, (indeed quite a disproportionate number), began their college career in this manner. Now tell me--should you care the snap of a finger for the opinion or the acquaintance of a man who could be such an ineffable fool as to drop intercourse with you because you are merely less rich than he? Don't you remember those grand old words, Julian-- "Lives there for honest poverty, Who hangs his head and a' that? The coward slave we pass him by, And dare be poor for a' that." "And yet, sir, half the distinctions of modern society rest upon accidents of this kind."