Tom and Eleen had met at McLaren's wedding, and it did not take long for the old, old story to find a place in their lives. Of course anyone from America who was acquainted with their son was welcomed by the bishop and his wife. But knowing the intimate relations existing between these two, Tom was made doubly welcome. Besides this, Tom had developed into a splendid man in both body and mind. He was six feet high and well proportioned. He had inherited a healthy constitution, lived a clean and natural life, and was in the best sense a handsome man, one whom in passing you would incline to glance at a second time. He soon became quite popular at Heidelberg with both lecturers and students, so when he visited Barnard's Castle, the family of Grandpa Sparrow, received Billy's son with open arms and hearts. The unsophisticated old people just sat and looked at him and listened to his words about his father and mother, and the great farm which he was operating so successfully. Cliff Farm was a little more than a mile from Barnard's Castle, and as Elder Sparrow was very popular with the people, many of them came to see Billy's son, both young men and maidens, and many a delightful time they had together. Though gifted with personal grace of person, Tom's real attractiveness was his naturalness. He was just as simple and natural as when, years ago, he went to the warehouse and talked to God about Carl. And so, now at twenty-one, he had a pleasant greeting and a happy word for everyone. The young girls were charmed and the young men listened admiringly. He talked to the young farmers about farming. Horses, breeds of cows, sheep hogs, fertilizers, until the young men went away feeling that they knew but little about real farming. The aged rector of Ascension Church, who had known Billy when a child, came to Cliff Farm to see Billy's son. He likewise knew something of the Monastery, and more about Bishop Albertson, with whom he had been associated in his collegiate days at Oxford. The aged clergyman was much interested in the curriculum at Monastery University, and perhaps no one was better able to satisfy his quest than Tom. Tom might safely have written, if such had been his ambition, "Veni, vidi vici," but nothing of this spirit inspired this young man of nature; and perhaps while he would not have been adjudged a remarkable scholar, yet he was an encyclopedia of general information, and out of the fullness of a healthy heart and memory his mouth spoke to the edification and enjoyment of all who heard him. We have said that Tom was not a remarkable scholar; yet he was a scholar, he was cyclopaedic. He had a general knowledge, and never forgot anything. He was an unconscious student all the time.