Dr. Newlyn, with some of the ejected Fellows and scholars, returned to the College, after the Restoration, in 1660. The old President lived to be over 90, dying within a few months of the Revolution of 1688, and having been President, including the years of his expulsion, over 47 years. He is finely described in the monument to his memory, which still exists in the College Chapel, as “ob fidem regi, ecclesiae, collegio servatam annis fere XII. expulsus.” But the College does not seem to have gained in learning, discipline, or quiet, by the change of government. The constant appeals to, or intervention of, the Visitor (George Morley) revealing to us, as they do, the internal dissensions of the Society itself, recall the troubled days of Cole’s presidency. Nor does Newlyn himself seem to have been free from blame. His government appears to have been lax, and his nepotism, even for those days, was remarkable. During the first fourteen years after his return, no less than four Newlyns are found in the list of scholars, while, in the list of clerks and choristers (places exclusively in the gift of the President), the name Newlyn, for many years after his return, occurs more frequently than all other names taken together. It would appear as if there had been a perennial supply of sons, nephews, or grandsons, to stop the avenues of preferment to less favoured students. It is pleasing to turn from these unsatisfactory relations among the seniors to a contemporary account[243] of his studies and his intercourse with his tutor, left by one of the scholars of this period, John Potenger, elected to a Hampshire Scholarship in 1664. From the account of his candidature, it appears that, even then, there was an effective examination for the scholarships, though it only lasted a day and seems to have been entirely _vivâ voce_. It is curious to find Potenger largely attributing his success to his age, “being some years younger” than his rivals,[244] “a circumstance much considered by the electors.” Can the well-known preference of the Corpus electors for boyish candidates in the days of Arnold and Keble, and even to a date within the memory of living members of the College, have been a tradition from the seventeenth century? It appears that the tutor was then selected by the student’s friends. “I had the good fortune,” says Potenger, “to be put to Mr. John Roswell” (afterwards Head Master of Eton and a great benefactor of the Corpus library), “a man eminent for learning and piety, whose care and diligence ought gratefully to be remembered by me as long as I live. I think he preserved me from ruin at my first setting out into the world. He did not only endeavour to make his pupils good scholars, but good men. He narrowly watched my conversation” (_i. e._ behaviour), “knowing I had too many acquaintance in the University that I was fond of, though they were not fit for me. Those he disliked he would not let me converse with,