"Do you know his origin?" continued Harry. "I know that he is Scotch, and had a good mother." "His mother was a common huckster, and he no better than a beggar; he lived in my uncle's neighborhood, and I have seen him many a time with old patched clothes, and scarcely a shoe to his feet." "Indeed!" said Edmund. "I know that he is very poor; he has told me much of his history. You have told me now how poor he is--shall I tell you how noble he is in the estimation of all true hearts in this college? You are at mean work, sir, but you will not harm Roland Bruce; he is above your mark, sir. Good morning, Mr. Castleton." Edmund saw that the two were cultivating the intimacy of several of the upstart boys, sons of the merchant princes of New York, with gold watches, full purses, fashionable wardrobes, empty brains, and cold, sordid souls. Brown was one of them--a mean, cowardly fellow, who had not forgotten the attack of Stanley, and was glad to find allies in the two new students. "There comes Boots," said Brown, one evening to Harry Castleton. "Whom do you mean?" was the quick reply; and Brown pointed to Roland, who was walking in the lawn, arm in arm with Edmund Norris. "Why do you call him 'Boots,' Brown?" "I'll whisper the story to you--do you know that in the first two years that he was here, he earned his education by blacking boots, carrying up wood, making fires, &c., and now he has the presumption to hold himself up above us fellows, and the faculty really place him constantly before us as a pattern to follow." "That is a good joke," answered Castleton; "I'll remember that story--a common boot-black! 'pon my word! brought here among gentlemen! Faugh! I shall smell boots every time I pass him." The next week, a drawing was on the wall in the passage to the recitation room, representing a boy blacking boots, and underneath written "Boots" at his profession; and another picture of a boy with a basket of boot-blacking and brushes, receiving a diploma; under which was written "Boots graduates, ready to practise on gentlemen's feet." Roland and Edmund saw the low proceeding--they did not notice it; but, on going out of the hall, Castleton and Davenport passed close to the young men. "Don't you smell boots, Davenport?" said Castleton. Stanley was near; he heard the insult, as also did Norris. Instantly, the two were surrounded; and Stanley, enraged, said, "I will bear it no longer; you shall not insult Roland Bruce;" and he gave Castleton a violent blow in the face. Edmund, too, joined the fight. Castleton and Davenport tried to defend themselves, but in vain; surrounded by several of the boys, they received a sound drubbing. Roland was distressed--he was a brave boy, and though he knew that in the anger of the combatants he was likely to become entangled in the broil, he stepped forward, and placing himself between Edmund and Castleton, he said,