was as slovenly as ever, and was clad in the same threadbare cloak, and the same little collar.
During the professor's lecture, it was customary for strangers to occupy a bench, appropriated for their use; and for one half hour, from half-past eleven to twelve o'clock, they might argue, if they pleased, upon any subject connected with the thesis of the day. One of the students was always expected to speak in reply to the stranger. A day seldom passed without some priest, monk, or Jesuit, taking a seat on the bench.
One morning an Abbé took his seat, who was dressed with the utmost elegance; Mr. De la Bussiere followed close after him. The students began to exchange glances and crack jokes upon the slovenly appearance of the latter, and they continued to do so, even after the professor had made them a signal to stop their ill-timed mirth.
I spoke in a whisper to those near me. "Restrain your laughter," said I, "until you have heard him."
Mr. L'Abbé had prepared himself with three or four arguments in opposition to one of our theses. He gave them out, and he was answered, in the usual way, by a student. He then bowed most politely to the professor, and with much courtesy complimented both him and the students on their skilful solutions, and he resumed his seat.
Mr. De la Bussiere's turn had now come. He began in Latin, with a complimentary address to the professor; he then turned round and said, "Mr. L'Abbé, you have expressed yourself satisfied with the answers you have received; I am of opinion that you yielded too soon, for your argument admits of being carried much further." He then took up the subject where the Abbé had left it, and handled it in so masterly a
