I cannot plagiarise, I assure you, from any scholastic designs you might have been giving vent to." Aram looked on him for a moment, and then breathing heavily, turned away.
"Pardon me," he said; "I am a poor half-crazed man; much study has unnerved me; I should never live but with my own thoughts; forgive me, Sir, I pray you." Touched by the sudden contrition of Aram's manner, Walter forgot, not only his present displeasure, but his general dislike; he stretched forth his hand to the Student, and hastened to assure him of his ready forgiveness.

Aram sighed deeply as he pressed the young man's hand, and Walter saw, with surprise and emotion, that his eyes were filled with tears.
"Ah!" said Aram, gently shaking his head, "it is a hard life we bookmen lead.

Not for us is the bright face of noon-day or the smile of woman, the gay unbending of the heart, the neighing steed, and the shrill trump; the pride, pomp, and circumstance of life.

Our enjoyments are few and calm; our labour constant; but that is it not, Sir ?--that is it not?
the body avenges its own neglect.

We grow old before our time; we wither up; the sap of youth shrinks from our veins; there is no bound in our step.