Roland returned to his room with a grateful heart. Another star had arisen upon his night-season, and, as he looked out upon the spangled heavens, they seemed to smile upon the bright young aspirant, as he sank to sleep. Next morning, his examination took place, his studies were appointed, and his duties in the house defined. When he took the boots the first time from the students' doors, many of them were in the passage. "I told you that he was only a charity student," said George Stanley; "he's to be our boot-black, I see--it's a capital joke, by jingo! with his princely airs." But though performing these menial offices, his deportment in the class-rooms, and his superior recitations, commanded respect, in spite of the slurs cast upon him by mean spirits. He had marked out his course, notwithstanding all that might be done, steadily to perform his duties, to avoid the students generally, and, above all things, to employ all his leisure time in preparing for his recitations. It was a hard lot that Roland Bruce had chosen--it took him several hours at night to clean the boots, although he was aided by a little fellow in the employ of the institution; before the dawn of day, he was busy carrying up wood and making the fires, aided by the same little fellow. He allowed himself but six hours' sleep, and husbanded his time so carefully, that, with all his hard labor, he really accomplished more than half the students in the college. Added to his industry, Roland's talents were of no common order, and the faculty soon perceived that the humble boot-black of the college, would carry off most of its honors. "Holloa, Boots!" exclaimed George Stanley one morning, as Roland was passing through the halls with wood for the rooms. He passed on without noticing the insolence. As he returned, Stanley was at the door. "Here, Boots! I want to see you." "When you speak to me as you ought, I am ready to listen," answered Roland, with quiet dignity. "Well, Mr. Bruce, I want to say to you, that you don't polish my boots well." "Complain to the authorities, Mr. Stanley," and Roland passed on. "Proud as Lucifer! I wish I could humble him, with his grand airs of superiority," said Stanley, as he banged the door of his room. "You humble him!" answered Edmund Norris; "a pigmy might as well try to reach the sun." "Why, what is he, Norris? but a mere boot-black for the college. I won't stand his pride." "Go to the recitation room, if you want to see what Roland Bruce is--there is not a fellow in the college that can compete with him, notwithstanding all his hard labor." "I suppose that he is a prince in disguise, Norris, from the airs which he puts on."