He had a very fair taste in matters of art, and a keen relish for prints of a high school--none of your French Opera Dancers, or tawdry Racing Prints, such as had delighted the simple eyes of Mr.Spicer, his predecessor--but your Stranges, and Rembrandt etchings, and Wilkies before the letter, with which his apartments were furnished presently in the most perfect good taste, as was allowed in the university, where this young fellow got no small reputation.

We have mentioned that he exhibited a certain partiality for rings, jewellery, and fine raiment of all sorts; and it must be owned that Mr.Pen, during his time at the university, was rather a dressy man, and loved to array himself in splendour.

He and his polite friends would dress themselves out with as much care in order to go and dine at each other's rooms, as other folks would who were going to enslave a mistress.

They said he used to wear rings over his kid gloves, which he always denies; but what follies will not youth perpetrate with its own admirable gravity and simplicity?
That he took perfumed baths is a truth; and he used to say that he took them after meeting certain men of a very low set in hall.
In Pen's second year, when Miss Fotheringay made her chief hit in London, and scores of prints were published of her, Pen had one of these hung in his bedroom, and confided to the men of his set how awfully, how wildly, how madly, how passionately, he had loved that woman.

He showed them in confidence the verses that he had written to her, and his brow would darken, his eyes roll, his chest heave with emotion as he recalled that fatal period of his life, and described the woes and agonies which he had suffered.