Nothing could be prettier than Rosamond’s happiness in welcoming her school-boy brothers, and her gratitude to Mrs. Poynsett for inviting them, declaring that she liked boys.  Her sons, however, dreaded the inroad of two wild Irish lads, and held council what covers and what horses could most safely be victimized to them, disregarding all testimony in their favour from interested parties.  When, therefore, Terence and Thomas de Lancey made their appearance, and were walked in for exhibition by their proud and happy sister, there was some surprise at the sight of two peculiarly refined, quiet boys, with colourless complexions, soft, sleepy, long-lashed, liquid brown eyes, the lowest of full voices, and the gentlest of manners, as if nothing short of an explosion could rouse them.

And it was presently manifest that their sister had said rather too little than too much of Terry’s abilities.  Not only had he brought home a huge pile of prizes, but no sooner was the seance after dinner broken up, than he detained Julius, saying, in a very meek and modest tone, “Rose says you know all the books in the library.”

“Rose undertakes a great deal for me.  What is this the prelude to?”

“I wanted to ask if I might just look at any book about the physical geography of Italy, or the History of Venice, or the Phoenicians.”

“Why, Terry?”

“It is for the Prize Essay,” explained the boy; “the subject is the effect of the physical configuration of a country upon the character of a nation.”

Julius drew a long breath, astounded at the march of intellect since his time.  “They don’t expect such things of fellows like you!” he said.

“Only of the sixth, but the fifth may go in for it, and I want to get up to the Doctor himself; I thought, as I was coming to such a jolly library, I might try; and if I do pretty well, I shall be put up, if any more fellows leave.  Do you think I may use the books?  I’m librarian, so I know how to take care of them.”

“You can be trusted for that, you book-worm,” said Julius; “here’s the library, but I fear I don’t know much about those modern histories.  My mother is a great reader, and will direct us.  Let us come to her.”

Quiet as Terry was, he was neither awkward nor shy; and when Julius had explained his wishes, and Mrs. Poynsett had asked a few good-natured questions, she was charmed as well as surprised at the gentle yet eager modesty with which the low-pitched tones detailed the ideas already garnered up, and inquired for authorities, in which to trace them out, without the least notion of the remarkable powers he was evincing.  She was delighted with the boy; Julius guided his researches; and he went off to bed as happy as a king, with his hands full of little dark tarnished French duodecimos, and with a ravenous appetite for the pasture ground he saw before him.  Lower Canada had taught him French, and the stores he found were revelry to him.