Mr. Copernicus sought out “Arma virumque” and “Tityre, tu patulæ,” and one or two other passages he was sure of, and the studious young porter read them in the artless accent which the English attribute to the ancient Romans, and translated them with sufficient accuracy. “Where did you learn to read Latin?” “I p–p–picked it up in odd hours.” “What else have you studied?” “A little Gig–Gig–Greek.” “Any thing else?” “Some algebra and some Fif–Fif–French.” “Where do you come from?” “From Baltimore,” drawled the prodigy, utterly unmoved by his employer’s manifest astonishment. “I was janitor of a school there, and the principal lent me his bib–bib–books.” “What is your name?” “M–M–Michael Quinlan.” “And what was your father’s business?” “He was a bib–bib–bricklayer,” the young man replied calmly, adding, reflectively, “when he wasn’t did–did–drunk.” “Bless my old soul!” said Mr. Copernicus to himself, “this is most extraordinary! I’ll see you again, young man. Barney!” he called to the head porter, “this young man will remain with us for the present.” [Illustration] A couple of days later, Mr. Copernicus sent for Michael Quinlan, and invited him to call at the Copernican residence on Washington Square, that evening. “I want to have Professor Barcalow talk with you,” he explained. At the hour appointed, Mr. M. Quinlan presented himself at the basement door of the old house, and was promptly translated to the library, where Professor Barcalow, once President of Clear Creek University, Indiana, rubbed his bald head and examined the young man at length. Quinlan underwent an hour’s ordeal without the shadow of discomposure. He drawled and stuttered with a placid face, whether his answers were right or wrong. At the end of the hour, the Professor gave his verdict. “Our young friend,” he said, “has certainly done wonders for himself in the way of self–tuition. He is _almost_ able—mind, I say _almost_—to pass a good Freshman examination. Of course, he is not thorough. There is just the same difference, Mr. Copernicus, between the tuition you do for yourself and the tuition that you receive from a competent teacher as there is between the carpentering you do for yourself and the carpentering a regular carpenter does for you. I can see the marks of self–tuition all over this young man’s conversation. He has never met a competent instructor in his life. But he has done very well for himself—wonderfully well. He in entitled to great credit. Try to remember, Quinlan, what I told you about the use of the ablative absolute.” [Illustration] Quinlan said he would, and made his exit by the basement door. “If he works hard,” remarked the Professor, “he will be able to enter Clear Creek by June, and work his way through.”