Montagu has the very soul of honor, and he can set off the conclusions of his vigorous judgment, and the treasures of his cultivated taste, with an eloquence that rises to extraordinary grandeur when he is fulminating his scorn at any species of tyranny or meanness.
It was very pleasant to talk with him about our old school days in his charming home.

We sate by the open window (which looks over his grounds, and then across one of the richest plains in England) one long summer evening, recalling all the vanished scenes and figures of the past, until we almost felt ourselves boys again.
"I have just been staying at Trinity," said I, "and Owen, as I suppose you know, is doing brilliantly.

He has taken a high first class, and they have already elected him fellow and assistant tutor." "Is he liked ?" "Yes, very much.

He always used to strike me at school as one of those fellows who are much more likely to be happy and successful as men, than they had ever any chance of being as boys.

I hope the _greatest_ things of him; but have you heard anything of Duncan lately ?" "Yes, he's just been gazetted as lieutenant.